"Pakin" commenced operations by making two or three futile attempts to draw Fawcett up, so that he could hold him more firmly; but the latter being fully prepared for any emergency, skipped about nimbly, and evaded all the attempts made to grip him; then he suddenly slipped under the big-one's chest with his left side, "gat in amang his legs, an' browte him neck ower heels." No sooner was the immense mass of humanity rolled out on the green sward, than the crowd went wild with excitement, and "varra nar split Crossfell wid shootin' an' hurrain'!" The annual Easter sports, held at Lowbyre, Alston, continued for many years to be a centre for wrestlers to congregate, from the districts round Weardale, Harewood, Knarsdale, Nenthead, and Garrigill. To one of these meetings, came Cuthbert Peart from Weardale, a powerful well built man, weighing sixteen stones nine pounds. Being drawn against Fawcett in one of the rounds, Peart lifted him like a child, and while holding him dangling in the air, asked, in a swaggering manner, where he would like to be laid. Jemmy, however, "mannish't to bit on his feet, like a cat;" and then, quick as lightning, down went the Weardale man, like a shot, from the effects of one of Jemmy's deadliest chips. "Noo," said Fawcett, with mock gravity, while stooping over the prostrate figure of Peart, "thoo can lig me whoariver thoo likes!" The brilliant manner displayed in carrying off Peart, filled the fallen man with so much wonder and amazement, that he declared Fawcett to be the cleverest wrestler in Britain, and forthwith took him over to Blanchland, on the borders of Northumberland and Durham. At that place he wrestled a match, with a sixteen-and-a-half-stone man, for a pair of leather breeches, and won easily. On this occasion he had again to resort to the use of a handkerchief. Another fall, similar in some respects to the one with Peart, occurred at Nentberry sports, about three miles from Alston, with one Thomas Stephenson, a man of considerable stature and bulk, who was accounted a good wrestler in his day and generation. On going into the ring for the final fall, Stephenson repeated again and again, with much confidence: "The little man _must_ go down--the little man _must_ go down, this time!" When hold had been obtained, the big one led off very briskly with the swing, but failing signally, Fawcett at once introduced the buttock, and brought him over so quickly and effectually, that as soon as Stephenson had recovered from his surprise, he burst out into passionate language, exclaiming: "Jemmy Fawcett's nūt a man, at aw! He's a _divel_--a fair DIVEL! an' neàbody 'ill convince me to th' contrary!" Jemmy continued to wrestle occasionally till he was nearly fifty years old. Litt speaks of him figuring at Smaledale in Yorkshire, where he resided about 1823.