As far as the meat is concerned, it may be good enough, though it consists of the coarsest and most inferior part of the animal, but if any care or attention was paid to the cookery of the beef or mutton it would be eatable.
But this is never done. Huge junks of beef are placed in a copper, unsalted, and boiled as rapidly as possible, and when turned out it presents the appearance of horse flesh. As a rule there is very little fat to it, and it presents a most objectionable appearance.
The English are not versed in the science of cookery, and have yet a great deal to learn from their Continental neighbours, but the beef at Newgate requires a very strong stomach to take to it kindly. This is the more surprising, seeing that the City gaol is under the superintendence of the Court of Aldermen and the Court of Common Council, and every member of these august bodies is supposed to have a great relish for the good things of this life.
It is true that they have a great abhorrence of evil-disposed persons who are indiscreet enough to commit acts which bring them under the ban of the law—such persons must be punished, and ought not to be pampered or fed upon the fat of the land during their temporary sojourn in the City prison. And, to say the truth, they certainly are not.
If the object is to make the meat as hard, unpalatable, and indigestible as possible, and at the same time to impart as little flavour and nourishment to the “soup,” the end is attained. But there is really no reason for this—with the same materials properly cooked excellent dinners could be furnished; as it is, the cooking is simply abominable—as bad as can possibly be.
It is to be hoped that a change will very shortly take place in the culinary department of Newgate, for it should be remembered that many persons are sent there who in the due course of time are proved to be innocent of the crimes with which they are charged.
Peace, however, never complained of the food which he partook of without a murmur, but there were others who made wry faces as the unsavoury mess was placed before them.
During the afternoon he was constrained to take another turn round the yard with his companions in misfortune, or, more properly speaking, crime.
On this occasion no detectives or warders paid a visit to the yard, and Peace, therefore, had no misgivings as far as that day was concerned. But he was, however, greatly relieved when he was conducted back to his cell. Anyway he would not be troubled to move out of it again till the following morning.
He was most anxious to see Bill Rawton or his wife. He had more confidence in the former and would much prefer having an interview with the gipsy, but he had already sent letters to both, and expected to see them on the next visiting day.