Inattentive Boy with hot plates. Inattentive Boy with hot plates.
THE TURKEY.
Female carrying sauces to be heated on the spot.
THE BEEF.
Man with Tray on his head, containing Vegetables and Sundries.
Volunteer Hostler from Hotel, grinning,
And rendering no assistance.

As we passed along the High Street, comet-like, we left a long tail of
fragrance behind us which caused the public to stop, sniffing in wonder.
We had previously left at the corner of the inn-yard a wall-eyed young
man connected with the Fly department, and well accustomed to the sound
of a railway whistle which Ben always carries in his pocket, whose
instructions were, so soon as he should hear the whistle blown, to dash
into the kitchen, seize the hot plum-pudding and mince-pies, and speed
with them to Watts's Charity, where they would be received (he was
further instructed) by the sauce-female, who would be provided with
brandy in a blue state of combustion.

All these arrangements were executed in the most exact and punctual
manner. I never saw a finer turkey, finer beef, or greater prodigality
of sauce and gravy;--and my Travellers did wonderful justice to
everything set before them. It made my heart rejoice to observe how
their wind and frost hardened faces softened in the clatter of plates and
knives and forks, and mellowed in the fire and supper heat. While their
hats and caps and wrappers, hanging up, a few small bundles on the ground
in a corner, and in another corner three or four old walking-sticks, worn
down at the end to mere fringe, linked this smug interior with the bleak
outside in a golden chain.