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 near my parents' tomb in the churchyard.   "Hold your noise!" came a terrible voice, as a man started up from among the tombs at the side of the church. "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. He seized me by the chin . "Tell us your name!" said the man. "Quick!" "Pip, sir." "Show us where you live," said the man. "Point out the place!" I pointed to where our village lay, on the flat in-shore among the alder-trees and pollards, a mile or more from the church. The man, after looking at me for a moment, turned me upside down, and emptied my pockets. There was nothing in them but a piece of bread.  "You young dog," said the man, licking his lips, "what fat cheeks you ha' got. Darn me if I couldn't eat em, and if I han't half a mind to't!" I earnestly expressed my hope that he wouldn't, and held tighter to the tombstone on which he had put me; partly, to keep myself upon it; partly, to keep myself from crying. "Now then lookee here!" said the man. "Where's your mother?" "There, sir!" said I. He started, made a short run, and stopped and looked over his shoulder. "There, sir!" I timidly explained, pointed to the tombstone. "That's my mother." "Oh!" said he, coming back. "And is that your father alonger your mother?" "Yes, sir," said I; "him too; late of this parish ." The passage is most probably adapted from  _  .
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