Picture on the left. Fishermen at sea (1796) by William Turner.
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.(...)
"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 me your name!" said the man. "Quick!"
"Pip, sir."
"Show me where you live," said the man. "Point out the place!"
"Once more," said the man, staring at me.(...)
"Now look here!" said the man. "Where's your mother?"
"There, sir!" said I. (He did so, pointing out to his mother's tombstone).
"Ha!" he muttered then, considering. "Who do you live with ?"
"My sister, sir - Mrs. Joe Gargery - Joe Gargery's wife, the blacksmith, sir."
"Blacksmith, eh?" said he. And looked down at his leg.
"Now look here," he said, "the question being whether you're to be let to live. Do you know what a file is?"(...)
"Get me a file." He tilted me again." "Bring it to me." "Or I'll have your heart and liver out." (...)
"Yes, sir."
Adapted text taken from one of Charles Dickens' most famous novels. Do you know its title?
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