“Unhappy Youth! e’er yet the tomb was closed, And dust to dust conveyed in peace reposed, He sought his father’s closet, searched around, To find a will: the important will was found. Well pleased he read, These lands, this manor, all Now call me master! I obey the call! Then from the window looked the valley o’er, And never saw it look so rich before. He viewed the dairy, viewed the men at plough, With other eyes, with other feelings now, And with a new-formed taste found beauty in a cow. The distant swain who drove the plough along Was a good useful slave, and passing strong! In short, the view was pleasing, nay, was fine, ‘Good as my father’s, excellent as mine!’ Again he reads,—but he had read enough; What followed put his virtue to a proof. ‘How this? to David Wright two thousand pounds! A monstrous sum! beyond all reason!—zounds! This is your friendship running out of bounds. Then here are cousins, Susan, Robert, Joe, Five hundred each. Do they deserve it? No! Claim they have none—I wonder if they know What the good man intended to bestow! This might be paid—but Wright’s enormous sum Is—I’m alone—there’s nobody can come— ’Tis all his hand, no lawyer was employed To write this prose, that ought to be destroyed! To no attorney would my father trust: He wished his son to judge of what was just, As if he said, My boy will find the Will, And, as he likes, destroy it or fulfil. This now is reason, this I understand— What was at his, is now at my command. As for this paper, with these cousiny names, I—’tis my Will—commit it to the flames. Hence! disappear! now am I lord alone: They’ll groan, I know, but, curse them, let them groan.’” Needless to say, Wright inquires for the will, and is told that there is none. After expostulation and discreet delay, the friend is satisfied that the will is destroyed: to the son’s consternation a copy of the first will is produced, and David Wright becomes the lawful heir.