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
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, or i'll your throat! ”

question 3 (3.5 points)

in this passage, pip describes the gravestones of his deceased brothers as
question 3 options:

a. "the small bundle of shivers"

b. "the dark flat wilderness"

c. "d and mounds and gates"

d. "five little stone lozenges"