In the summer of 1812, two Irishmen who were paring turf in Skiddaw forest, came to Keswick, and asked Joseph Cherry, the landlord of the Shoulder of Mutton, for Tom Nicholson. Tom being sent for, was soon on the spot; when one of the Irishmen thus addressed him: "Shure, an' I suppose you're the champion of Cumberland?" "Well," replied Tom, "I don't know whedder I is or I issn't." "Faith! but I'm afther telling you, you are," said the Irishman, very crousely; "and by jabers! me and my mate are ready to fight anny two men in Cumberland!" "I know nowte aboot neà mates," replied Tom, whose spirit would never allow him to brook an unprovoked insult--"I know nowte aboot neà mates; but I's willin' to feight t' better man mysel', if that 'ill satisfy yé!" Accordingly, a wager was made for five pounds, and the two combatants went into the market-place without further parley--no county police to interfere at that time--and set to work in good earnest. Pat was beaten in nine rounds; and Tom, who sustained little injury, finished up "as fresh as a lark." In the encounter on the Carlisle race ground, with Ridley, the _glutton_, in 1814, the issue was of a very different character, although the Threlkeld man was never in better "fettle" in his life. After half-an-hour's severe fighting, during which time the waves of victory flowed sometimes to one side, and sometimes to the other, the constables interfered, and very properly put a stop to the brutal sport. As some palliation for the part which our hero took in the combat, Litt says: "We have the best authority for saying, that when Tom left home for Carlisle, he knew nothing of the match in question; and that the behaviour of Ridley, who was on the look-out for him, and the wishes expressed by some amateurs to witness a trial of skill between them, made Tom erroneously think that his character was at stake, and that he could not decline the contest without incurring the charge of having 'a white feather in him.'" Tom's love for daring adventure, or sport, seems never to have forsaken him. Even in middle life, when between forty and fifty years old, this idiosyncrasy would manifest itself. Among other pursuits, he has been known to follow salmon poaching in the river Derwent and its tributaries. Once when working at Mirehouse, for Mr. Spedding, he was joined by Pearson of Browfoot, John Walker, weaver and boatman, and four or five other men from Keswick, as lawless as himself, and almost as daring. The meeting had been previously arranged at the Shoulder of Mutton, then kept by Betty Cherry. Having chosen Tom as their captain, the gang started for Euse bridge, at the foot of Bassenthwaite lake, which place they reached a couple of hours after nightfall. Operations were commenced by placing two sentinels in commanding positions, one on the bridge, and the other--John Walker--on the opposite side of the hedge, a little lower down the river.