fairly lost temper, threatened and coerced in various ways, and finally shook his fist in Richardson's face. Some of the onlookers, sympathizing with the elder man, commenced a vigorous attack of hooting, on which Weightman turned his backside to the spectators in a saucy and defiant manner. After this open display of insolence a tragic finale seemed imminent. The ring was broken up in an instant; and the roughs of the crowd, headed by the notorious Tom Ridley, soon worked themselves into a state of furious excitement. They made a rush at the delinquent, some dealing out blows with their fists, while others kept up a constant shower of sods and such like missiles; nearly tore the shirt from the back of their victim; and finally forced him savagely through a thorn hedge on the top of the bank. In describing the _melée_ which took place, Weightman himself said: "Yan shootit, 'Tek th' watter, Weetman!'--anudder shootit, 'Tek th' dyke, thoo greit gowk, thoo!'--bit I niver kent reetly whoar I was, till I fund mysel' on Eden brig, wid Gwordie Maut[12] leadin' me seàfly by the hand. I varily believe," added he, "'at Gwordie Maut seàv't mee life!" Preliminary to this affair, and quite in keeping with its general character, it may be stated that on the morning of the match, as Weightman was riding into Carlisle on a spirited "black-brown" mare, which belonged to his uncle, he threw the money down on the ground, due for passing through the toll-gate at the foot of Botchergate. This Mr. Rayson, the keeper, refused to pick up. Getting annoyed at the delay which ensued, and in order to clear the way, Weightman struck at Rayson across the shoulders with his whip, and then leapt clean over the gate. For this offence he was taken to the police office in Scotch Street, from which place his friends, after some difficulty, managed to get him liberated, by paying a fine of forty shillings. Immediately after the unsatisfactory termination of this match, Weightman issued a challenge to wrestle "any man in Cumberland the best of five falls, for fifteen or twenty guineas." No one came forward to take up the gauntlet thus thrown down; and although, up to this date, Weightman had not won any prize of importance, nevertheless an impression had gone abroad that he was a formidable customer to meet in a number of rounds. The year 1822 was a very chequered one in Weightman's career, suffering in it, as he did, so many minor defeats. An account of his adventures, so far as they are known to us, and are noted in the local papers, may help to illustrate in some measure both his weakness and his strength. In the month of May, Forster of Penton threw him at Kirkbampton, after a very fine and severe struggle. At Micklethwaite races, near Wigton, in June, he was defeated by Jonathan Watson of Torpenhow; and at Durdar, by James Graham of The Rigg, Kirklinton.