That he might the better feed and cherish that sacred flame of gratitude in his breast, Mr Pecksniff remarked that he would trouble his eldest daughter, even in this early stage of their journey, for the brandy-bottle.

And from the narrow neck of that stone vessel he imbibed a copious refreshment.
'What are we ?' said Mr Pecksniff, 'but coaches?
Some of us are slow coaches'-- 'Goodness, Pa!' cried Charity.
'Some of us, I say,' resumed her parent with increased emphasis, 'are slow coaches; some of us are fast coaches.

Our passions are the horses; and rampant animals too--!' 'Really, Pa,' cried both the daughters at once.

'How very unpleasant.' 'And rampant animals too' repeated Mr Pecksniff with so much determination, that he may be said to have exhibited, at the moment a sort of moral rampancy himself;'-- and Virtue is the drag.

We start from The Mother's Arms, and we run to The Dust Shovel.' When he had said this, Mr Pecksniff, being exhausted, took some further refreshment.