Charles Dickens,
Our American Holidays - Christmas
(1949)
“ When they were all tired of blind-man's buff, there was a great game at snapdragon, and when fingers enough were burned with that, and all the raisons gone, they sat down by the huge fire of blazing logs to a substantial supper, and a mighty bowl of wassail, something smaller than an ordinary washhouse copper, in which the hot apples were hissing and bubbling with a rich look, and a jolly sound, that were perfectly irresistible. "This," said Mr. Pickwick, looking round him, "this is, indeed, comfort." ”
