We have no reliable means of recording all the victories Tom achieved; and we suppose no chronicler is left who can tell where he gained his first belt. We know he became such an enthusiast as to rise often at three or four o'clock in a morning, in order to get his day's work finished by noon; and afterwards has travelled a dozen miles, to wrestle for "a lal bit iv a ledder strap, nūt worth mair ner fifteen-pence." Luckily, there is a record of the more important prizes gained at Carlisle, in 1809, 1810, and 1811--a succession of unbroken victories seldom accomplished by a thirteen-stone man. In the year 1809, Nicholson, then twenty-three or twenty-four years old, attended some sports or merry-making at Penrith. While there, he chanced to see an advertisement setting forth the liberal prizes for wrestling, offered on the following day at the Waterhead, Ambleside. Having some little acquaintance with the Dixons of Grasmere, through working with them at the Bridge-end, Legberthwaite, Tom felt a strong desire to attend the meeting. After dancing all night at Penrith, he left by way of Patterdale and Kirkstone Pass. Having reached Ambleside, he found the head of the lake crowded with pleasure boats and yachts; flags flying, drums beating, and an immense gathering of people assembled in holiday attire, anxiously waiting to witness the sports. Being overcome by fatigue and want of rest, he went into one of the tents for some refreshment, and soon fell fast asleep in a chair. A waller, named James Benson, who belonged to Ambleside, chanced to hear one of the Dixons say incidentally to the Longs: "I suppooàs Tom Nicholson's here. If we don't mind what we're duin', he'll fell us aw!" Seeing a stranger asleep soon after, Benson went and gave him a tap with his foot, saying: "Do they co' yee Tom Nicholson?" Being thus aroused, Tom started hastily to his feet, and replied in the affirmative. "Well, then," said Benson, "if ye've come to russel, ye'll hev to be stirrin' yersel'! _They're thrāwin' t' belt up for t' last time!_" Hastening to the scene of action--a small field near the lake--Tom got his name entered in the list. No doubt, the previous fatigue and consequent exhaustion would, in some measure, detract from the dash and force of his wrestling. Notwithstanding this, he managed to pull off the chief prize, throwing both Rowland and John Long. Two of the Dixons--George and James--of Grasmere, also contended, and both came against the Threlkeld man. The former was unmistakeably thrown; but the latter, in the opinion of a great many spectators round the ring, ought to have had the fall. The umpires, however, came to the conclusion it was a dog-fall, and Dixon felt so chagrined at the decision, that he refused to re-enter the ring.