“I farther will and desire that the sum of ten thousand pounds, which is now in the hands of William Constantine, gentleman, my executor, may by him, immediately after my decease, be put out to interest for ten years: and I will and desire that, at the end of the said ten years, the said sum of ten thousand pounds, and the interest so accumulated thereon, be given to whichsoever of my aforesaid nephews shall at that time be the richest. “And I trust that the said William Constantine, gentleman, my executor and very good friend, being a clear-headed honest man, will understand and execute this my last will and testament, according to the plain meaning of my words; though it should happen that this my will should not be drawn up in due legal form, of which I know little or nothing.” Mr. Constantine, the executor, being, as described, a clear-headed honest man, found no difficulty either in understanding or executing this trust: the ten thousand pounds were, immediately upon Pearson’s decease, placed out upon interest; and the three nephews were put into possession of their farms. These were of very different value. Goodenough’s wanted improvement, but would pay richly for any that should be judiciously made; Wright’s farm was by far the worst of the three; and Marvel’s the best. The Lincolnshire world was much divided in opinion concerning these young men; and many bets were laid relating to the legacy. People judged according to their own characters; the enterprising declared for Marvel, the prudent for Wright, the timid for Goodenough. The nephews had scarcely been in possession of their farms a week when, one evening, as they were all supping together at Wright’s house, Marvel suddenly turned to Goodenough, and exclaimed, “When do you begin your improvements, cousin Goodenough?” “Never, cousin Marvel.” “Then you’ll never touch the ten thousand, my boy. What! will you do nothing to your marsh? Nothing to your common? Nothing to your plantations? Do not you mean ever to make any improvements?” “I mean not to make any improvements.” “Well, you’ll let me make some for you.” “Not I.” “No! Won’t you let me cut down some of those trees for you, that are spoiling one another in your wood?” “Not a tree shall be cut down. Not a stick shall be stirred. Not a change shall be made, I say.” “Not a change for the better, cousin Goodenough?” said Wright. “Not a change can be for the better, to my mind; I shall plough, and sow, and reap, as our forefathers did, and that’s enough for me.” “What! will you not even try the new plough?” said Marvel. “Not I; no new ploughs for me. No plough can be so good as the old one.” “How do you know, as you never tried it, or would see it tried?” said Wright: “I find it better than the old one.”