In the year 1732, one John Barker kept an inn at the West end of the High Bridge, Knaresborough. This man was a manufacturer of linen cloth, and used to bleach his own yarn. At one time, having brought two packs of yarn to the river to wash, he thought he observed a number of wool-packs rolling towards him; but on a nearer view it proved to be a swelling of the current, occasioned by a sudden and very violent rain in the neighbourhood. He had not time to remove his yarn, so that it was swept away, and carried through the arches of the bridge, which stands on a rock. A little below there is a piece of still water, supposed to be about twenty-one feet in depth: as soon as the yarn got to this, it sunk, except a little which caught the skirts of the rock in going down. Metcalf being intimate with Barker, and calling at his house a few days after the accident, found him lamenting his lost. Metcalf told him that he hoped to recover his yarn for him, but Barker smiled at the supposed absurdity of the proposal: finding, however, that his friend was resolved on a trial, he consented. Metcalf then ordered some long cart-ropes to be procured, and fixing a hook at one end, and leaving the other to be held by some persons on the High Bridge, he descended, and hooking as much of the yarn as he could at one time, he gave orders for drawing up. In this way the whole was recovered, with very little damage. Some time after this, Metcalf happened to be at Scriven, at the house of one Green, an innkeeper.—Two persons then present had a dispute concerning some sheep which one of them had put into the penfold. The owner of the sheep, (one Robert Scaif, a Knaresborough man, and a friend of Metcalf’s) appeared to be ill treated by the other party, who wished to take an unfair advantage. Metcalf perceiving that they were not likely to agree about the damages, bade them good night, saying he was going to Knaresborough, but it being about the dead time of night, he was firmly resolved to do a little friendly business before he should get home. The penfold being walled round, he climbed over, and getting hold of the sheep one by one, he fairly tossed them over the wall: the difficulty of the service increased as the number got less, not being so ready to catch;—he was not, however, thereby deterred, but fully completed the exploit. On the return of day, the penfold door being found fast locked, great was the surprise on finding it untenanted, and various the conjectures as to the rogue or rogues who had liberated the sheep; but Metcalf past unsuspected, and enjoyed the joke in silence.