And if we were
no better off than anybody else, what would become of our sense of
gratitude; which,' said Mr Pecksniff with tears in his eyes, as he shook
his fist at a beggar who wanted to get up behind, 'is one of the holiest
feelings of our common nature.'
His children heard with becoming reverence these moral precepts from the
lips of their father, and signified their acquiescence in the same, by
smiles. 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.
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