This Caleb Kersey’s name had suddenly become known throughout the agricultural district of the country—to the labourers as that of their champion; to the farmers as that of their bane. He was a man of short stature and muscular frame; bushy black hair; square forehead and chin; prominent nose and piercing gray eyes. When in repose or speaking to his comrades, his expression was one of earnest thoughtfulness; but it became somewhat sulky when he was addressing his superiors, and fierce with enthusiasm when haranguing a crowd. He was not more than thirty; yet he had worked as a farm-labourer in all the northern and in several southern counties, thus becoming acquainted with the ways and customs of his class in the various districts. On returning to Kingshope he caused much consternation in the neighbourhood of that quiet village, as well as in the town of Dunthorpe, by forming an Agricultural Labourers’ Union, the object of which was to obtain better wages and better cottages. The Union did secure some advantages to the mass of labourers; but it brought little to Caleb Kersey. The farmers were afraid to employ him, lest he should create some new agitation amongst their people; and a large number of the men who had been carried away by the first wave of this little revolution having profited by it, settled down into their old ways and their old habits of respect for ‘the squire, the parson, and the master.’ But Caleb remained their champion still, ready to be their spokesman whenever a dispute arose between them and their employers. He had picked up a little knowledge of cobbling, and when he could not obtain farmwork, he eked out a living by its help. ‘It’s ’long ov them plaguy schools and papers,’ said Farmer Trotman one day to Dick Crawshay. ‘There ain’t a better hand nowhere than Caleb; but it was a black day for him and for us that he larned reading and writing.’ The stout yeoman of Willowmere was scarcely in a position to sympathise with this lamentation, for he had been in no way disturbed by Caleb’s doings. Most of his servants were the sons and daughters of those who had served his father and grandfather, and who would as soon have thought of emigrating to the moon, as of quitting a place of which they felt themselves to be a part, even if it were only to move into the next parish. So, Uncle Dick could say no more than: ‘I don’t have any trouble with my people. They seem to jog on pretty comfortable; and I daresay you’d get on well enough with Caleb if you only got the right side of him. I give him a job whenever there is one to give and he wants it; and he’s worth two any ordinary men. I wouldn’t mind having him all the year round if he’d agree. But that’s somehow against his principles.’ ‘Ah! them principles are as bad as them schools for upsetting ignorant folks. Look at me: all the larning I got was to put down my name plain and straight; and there ain’t nobody as’ll say I haven’t done my duty by my land and cattle.’