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BRIGGS IN LUCK

From "Doctor Birch and his Young Friends"

_Enter the Knife-boy._ Hamper for Briggses!
_Master Brown._ Hurray, Tom Briggs! I'll lend you my knife.

If this story does not carry its own moral, what fable does, I wonder?
Before the arrival of that hamper, Master Briggs was in no better
repute than any other young gentleman of the lower school; and in fact
I had occasion myself, only lately, to correct Master Brown for
kicking his friend's shins during the writing-lesson. But how this
basket, directed by his mother's house-keeper, and marked "GLASS WITH
CARE," whence I concluded that it contained some jam and some bottles
of wine probably, as well as the usual cake and game-pie, and half a
sovereign for the elder Master B., and five new shillings for Master
Decimus Briggs--how, I say, the arrival of this basket alters all
Master Briggs's circumstances in life, and the estimation in which
many persons regard him!

If he is a good-hearted boy, as I have reason to think, the very first
thing he will do, before inspecting the contents of the hamper, or
cutting into them with the knife which Master Brown has so
considerately lent him, will be to read over the letter from home
which lies on top of the parcel. He does so, as I remarked to Miss
Raby (for whom I happened to be mending pens when the little
circumstance arose), with a flushed face and winking eyes. Look how
the other boys are peering into the basket as he reads--I say to her,
"Isn't it a pretty picture?" Part of the letter is in a very large
hand. That is from his little sister. And I would wager that she
netted the little purse which he has just taken out of it, and which
Master Lynx is eyeing.

"You are a droll man, and remark all sorts of queer things," Miss Raby
says, smiling, and plying her swift needle and fingers as quick as
possible.

"I am glad we were both on the spot, and that the little fellow lies
under our guns as it were, and so is protected from some such brutal
school-pirate as young Duval for instance, who would rob him,
probably, of some of those good things; good in themselves, and better
because fresh from home. See, there is a pie as I said, and which I
daresay is better than those which are served at our table (but you
never take any notice of these kind of things, Miss Raby), a cake, of
course, a bottle of currant wine, jam-pots, and no end of pears in
the straw. With this money little