Summary

Various Punchinello, Volume 2, No. 38, December 17…

A shade more of leanness in the legs, one jot less of rotundity in the breast—what misery might not these seemingly trivial incidents have created? A failure in the supply of turkeys?—it would have been a national calamity! What were life, indeed, without the turkey?
As for Thanksgiving, the turkey he is it. Paris, c'est la France! Remove the turkey, and you undermine Thanksgiving. How could a conscientious man go to church on Thanksgiving morning, knowing within himself that he shall return to beef, or mutton, or veal for his dinner, as on work-days?
Source: Gutenberg

Various Punchinello, Volume 2, No. 38, December 17…

I tell you, religion would disappear with the turkey.
Toward the close of Thanksgiving, how manifest becomes the influence of this feathered sovereign. Observe yonder jaundiced youth pacing the street moodily, his lips set in a cynic sneer. His turkey was lean. I know it. He cannot hide that turkey. The gaunt fowl obtrudes himself from every part. On the other hand, none but the primest of prime turkeys could have set in motion this brisk old gentleman with the ruddy check and hale, clear eye, whom we next pass.
Source: Gutenberg

Various Punchinello, Volume 2, No. 38, December 17…

Every kernel of grain which he picks from the barn-floor may represent an instant of masticatory joy held in store for some as yet unconscious maxillary; we may weigh the bird by the amount of happiness he will afford. When we go to market, to barter for our Thanksgiving turkey, we inquire substantially of the spruce vender, glistening in his white apron: "How much gustatory delight does yonder cock contain?" And he, gross slave of matter, doth respond, giving the estimate in dollars and parts of dollars!
Source: Gutenberg

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