Like William Jackson of Kinneyside, Rowantree was brought up a shepherd, and followed this pastoral occupation, with scarcely a break in the chain, throughout an extraordinarily prolonged life. He stood fully six feet one inch, his general wrestling weight being fourteen stones. "A lang-feàc't, strang, big-limb't man, carryin' varra lile flesh on his beàns," was the description given of Rowantree by a brother athlete, who, like himself, had carried off the head prize once from the Carlisle ring. Litt speaks of him as attached to loose holds, and as being an extremely awkward customer to get at. It cannot be said that he was a quick, good, scientific wrestler, being too strong limbed and heavily built throughout, for excelling in these requisites. Nevertheless, he had tremendous powers when he could get them set agoing in full swing. His famous cross-buttocks in the Carlisle and other rings, which made men fly upwards, like a bull tossing dogs, are spoken of to this day. When young, like many another, Rowantree was such an enthusiastic follower of the wrestling ring, that he frequently went on foot twenty miles to wrestle in the evening for a common leather belt, not worth eighteen pence. He won his first prize at "Mumps Ha'," Gilsland, at that time a noted hedge ale-house, whereat border farmers--most of them nothing loth to spend a jovial hour or two when happening to meet a neighbour--used to stop and refresh themselves with a "pint" or two, and enjoy a "good crack." The hostelry was at that time kept by a daughter of old Margaret Teasdale, immortalized as "Mumps Meg," in Sir Walter Scott's _Guy Mannering_. Rowantree afterwards attended some sports at Stanners Burn, in North Tyne; and in the final wrestle up, he came against an exceedingly powerful man, named William Ward, a rustic Titan, with a grip like a giant, resident in the neighbourhood. In the previous rounds the stranger from Kingwater had astonished the North Tyners, by disposing of his men without the least difficulty. In the last round, Ward lifted Rowantree clean off his feet, and caused much amusement among the spectators by crying out, whilst holding him in that position: "Hey, lads! See! I can haud him, noo!" No sooner, however, did Rowantree set foot on _terra firma_, than in an instant the position of the two men was reversed, a sweeping cross-buttock sending Ward's feet "fleein' i' the air," amid loud plaudits--the loser being sadly crestfallen by this unexpected turn of the wheel.