arley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman
the clerk
the undertaker
and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge’s name was good upon ‘Change
for anything he chose to put his hand to.
Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
here are not many people -- and as it is desirable
that a story-teller and a story-reader should establish
a mutual understanding as soon as possible
I beg it
to be noticed that I confine this observation neither to
young people nor to little people
but extend it to all
conditions of people: little and big
young and old:
yet growing up
or already growing down again -- there
are not
I say
many people who would care to sleep
in a church. I don't mean at sermon-time in warm
weather (when the thing has actually been done
once
or twice)
but in the night
and alone. A great multitude of persons will be violently astonished
I know
by this position
in the broad bold Day. But it
applies to Night. It must be argued by night
and I
will undertake to maintain it successfully on any
gusty winter's night appointed for the purpose
with
any one opponent chosen from the rest
who will meet
me singly in an old church-yard
before an old churchdoor; and will previously empower me to lock him in
if needful to his satisfaction
until morning.
y 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.
mong other public buildings in a certain town
which for many
reasons it will be prudent to refrain from mentioning
and to
which I will assign no fictitious name
there is one anciently
common to most towns
great or small: to wit
a workhouse; and
in this workhouse was born; on a day and date which I need not
trouble myself to repeat
inasmuch as it can be of no possible
consequence to the reader
in this stage of the business at all
events; the item of mortality whose name is prefixed to the head
of this chapter.
t was the best of times
it was the worst of times
hether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life
or whether
that station will be held by anybody else
these pages must show.
To begin my life with the beginning of my life
I record that I was
born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday
at twelve
o'clock at night. It was remarked that the clock began to strike
and I began to cry
simultaneously.