Charles Dickens
 
  Chapter 1

    My father's family name
        being Pirrip,
           and my Christian name Philip,
         my infant tongue
            could make of both
                  names nothing longer
                      or more explicit than Pip.

    So,
           I called myself Pip,
         and came
              to be called Pip.

    I give Pirrip
           as my father's family name,
         on the authority
               of his tombstone
          and my sister -
            Mrs. Joe Gargery,
         who married the blacksmith.

    As I never
          saw my father
              or my mother,
           and never
              saw any likeness of
                   either of them
         (for their days were long
             before the days of photographs),
          my first fancies regarding
             what they were like,
               were unreasonably
                  derived from their tombstones.

    The shape of the
        letters on my father's,
           gave me an odd idea
             that he was a square,
         stout,
           dark man,
         with curly black hair.

    From the character
           and turn of the inscription,
         "Also Georgiana Wife
               of the Above,"
            I drew a childish conclusion
             that my mother
                was freckled and sickly.

    To five little stone lozenges,
           each about a foot
               and a half long,
         which were
              arranged in a neat row
                   beside their grave,
           and were sacred
               to the memory
                   of five little brothers
                 of mine -
             who gave up trying
                  to get a living,
         exceedingly early in
             that universal struggle -
               I am indebted
                   for a belief
             I religiously entertained
               that they
                had all
                    been born
                           on their backs
                         with their
                        hands in their trousers-pockets,
           and had never
              taken them
                   out in
                       this state of existence.

    Ours was the marsh country,
           down by the river,
         within,
           as the river wound,
         twenty miles of the sea.

    My first most vivid
           and broad impression
               of the identity of things,
           seems to me
              to have been gained
                on a memorable raw afternoon
                         towards evening.

    At such a time
         I found out for certain,
           that this bleak place
               overgrown with nettles
            was the churchyard;
        and that Philip Pirrip,
           late of this parish,
         and also Georgiana wife
               of the above,
           were dead and buried;
        and that Alexander,
           Bartholomew,
         Abraham,
           Tobias,
         and Roger,
           infant children of the aforesaid,
         were also dead and buried;
        and that
               the dark flat wilderness
             beyond the churchyard,
           intersected with dykes
               and mounds and gates,
         with scattered cattle feeding
               on it,
           was the marshes;
        and that
               the low leaden line beyond,
           was the river;
        and that
               the distant savage lair from
              which the wind was rushing,
           was the sea;
        and that the small bundle
               of shivers
             growing afraid of it
                   all and
                  beginning to cry,
           was Pip.

    "Hold your noise!"

    cried a terrible voice,
           as a man started
               up from
             among the graves
                   at the side
                       of the church porch.

    "Keep still,
           you little devil,
         or I'll cut your throat!"

    A fearful man,
           all in coarse grey,
         with a great iron
               on his leg.

    A man with no hat,
           and with broken shoes,
         and with an old rag
              tied round his head.

    A man
         who had been soaked
               in water,
           and smothered in mud,
         and lamed by stones,
           and cut by flints,
         and stung by nettles,
           and torn by briars;
        who limped,
           and shivered,
         and glared and growled;
        and whose teeth chattered
               in his head as
             he seized me
                   by the chin.

    "O!

    Don't cut my throat,
           sir," I pleaded in terror.

    "Pray don't do it,
           sir."

    "Tell us your name!"

    said the man.

    "Quick!"

    "Pip,
           sir."

    "Once more," said the man,
           staring at me.

    "Give it mouth!"

    "Pip.