“Then as for firmness and nerves,” continued Nicholas, “you should see him _make_ a young horse, though, that, perhaps, has not much to do with the matter in question—it is beautiful to see him put a young, raw, five-years-old, at a fence; seriously speaking, he is the boldest and coolest fellow you ever saw, though you are a soldier. I may say this of him, for he has been tried. Last year there was a dreadful fight between the preventive service men and the smugglers, in which the former were driven off, and one or two of them killed. Seaforth, who was the nearest magistrate, took it up, and never rested till he had apprehended the murderers, though he had to go into places where half the men in England would not venture to set foot, and to fight his way through some desperate scuffles. He got Jem Emlett, who has been ringleader in every row, robbery, or smuggling transaction for the last twenty years, and his whole gang; and though Jem broke out of prison the night before the assizes, that was not his fault. Besides, Charley is bred to be a good one. There have been wild ones of his blood, perhaps, but never any that wanted game.” “Mr. Seaforth is the man for me,” said Warenne; “get your friend out of court, and introduce me to him.” Nicholas had not overrated Seaforth. Warenne found him a person of great intelligence, and peculiar animation of character, far more so, indeed, than he had anticipated. The unassuming demeanour of Seaforth amongst his brother magistrates had led Warenne to consider him a sensible, and Nicholas’s panegyric to believe him a brave, man; but neither the one nor the other had prepared him for meeting an eager, impetuous spirit, ready to devote his whole powers to what he conceived to be his duty, and in whom mind so far predominated over body as to cause alarm, lest by its restless activity it should undermine and exhaust the physical strength. But a few minutes had elapsed from the time of their introduction, before Warenne was perfectly satisfied with the choice he had made of a coadjutor. He recounted to Seaforth what he had seen; and they were soon in deep consultation. It seemed evident to them that the nightly meetings originated in an organised combination to resist the law,—a combination extending far beyond the immediate neighbourhood of Fisherton. The agricultural labourers were not persons likely, without some strong external excitement, to sacrifice a night’s rest to an employment they hated so sincerely as learning the manœuvres of soldiers; neither were the smugglers, though they were doubtless to a man engaged in the business; and the conclusion to which Warenne and Seaforth came was, that agents from London and Manchester must have lighted up this strong flame of disaffection.