The nice china jar, which Oliver had held so sturdily, was very precious to him. His uncle had just sent him two jars of fine West India sweetmeats. One of these he had shared with his companions: the other he had kept, to give to Mrs. Howard, who had once said, in his hearing, that she was fond of West India sweetmeats. She accepted Oliver's little present. Children sometimes feel as much pleasure in giving away sweetmeats as in eating them; and Mrs. Howard too well understood the art of education, even in trifles, to deny to grateful and generous feelings their natural and necessary exercise. A child can show gratitude and generosity only in trifles. "Are these all the sweetmeats that you have left, Oliver?" said Mrs. Howard. "Yes--all." "Was not Rousseau wrong, Dr. B.," said Mrs. Howard, "when he asserted, that no child ever gives away _his last mouthful_ of any thing good?" "Of any thing _good_!" said the doctor, laughing; "when I have tasted these sweetmeats, I shall be a better judge." "You shall taste them this minute, then," said Mrs. Howard; and she rang for a plate, whilst the doctor, to little Oliver's great amusement, exhibited various pretended signs of impatience, as Mrs. Howard deliberately untied the cover of the jar. One cover after another she slowly took off; at length the last transparent cover was lifted up: the doctor peeped in; but lo! instead of sweetmeats there appeared nothing but paper. One crumpled roll of paper after another Mrs. Howard pulled out; still no sweetmeats. The jar was entirely stuffed with paper, to the very bottom. Oliver was silent with amazement. "The sides of the jar are quite clean," said Howard. "But the inside of the paper that covered it is stained with sweetmeats," said Dr. B. "There must have been sweetmeats in it lately," said Mrs. Howard, "because the jar smells so strongly of them." Amongst the pieces of crumpled paper which had been pulled out of the jar, Dr. B. espied one, on which there appeared some writing: he looked it over. "Humph! What have we here? What's this? What can this he about a lottery?--tickets, price half a guinea--prizes-gold watch!--silver ditto--chased tooth-pick case--buckles--knee-buckles. What is all this?--April 10th, 1797--the drawing to begin--prizes to be delivered at Westminster school, by Aaron Carat, jeweller? Hey, young gentlemen," cried Dr. B., looking at Oliver and Charles, "do you know any thing of this lottery?" "I have no concern in it, sir, I assure you," said Howard. "Nor I, thank goodness--I mean, thank you, Charles," exclaimed Oliver; "for you hindered me from putting into the lottery: how very lucky I was to take your advice!"