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—
still
,
in
my
desire
to
be
wiser
,
I
got
this
composition
by
heart
with
the
utmost
gravity
;
nor
do
I
recollect
that
I
questioned
its
merit
,
except
that
I
thought
(
as
I
still
do
)
the
amount
of
Too
rul
somewhat
in
excess
of
the
poetry
.
In
my
hunger
for
information
,
I
made
proposals
to
Mr
.
Wopsle
to
bestow
some
intellectual
crumbs
upon
me
,
with
which
he
kindly
complied
.
As
it
turned
out
,
however
,
that
he
only
wanted
me
for
a
dramatic
lay
-
figure
,
to
be
contradicted
and
embraced
and
wept
over
and
bullied
and
clutched
and
stabbed
and
knocked
about
in
a
variety
of
ways
,
I
soon
declined
that
course
of
instruction
;
though
not
until
Mr
.
Wopsle
in
his
poetic
fury
had
severely
mauled
me
.
Whatever
I
acquired
,
I
tried
to
impart
to
Joe
.
This
statement
sounds
so
well
,
that
I
cannot
in
my
conscience
let
it
pass
unexplained
.
I
wanted
to
make
Joe
less
ignorant
and
common
,
that
he
might
be
worthier
of
my
society
and
less
open
to
Estella
’
s
reproach
.
The
old
Battery
out
on
the
marshes
was
our
place
of
study
,
and
a
broken
slate
and
a
short
piece
of
slate
-
pencil
were
our
educational
implements
:
to
which
Joe
always
added
a
pipe
of
tobacco
.
I
never
knew
Joe
to
remember
anything
from
one
Sunday
to
another
,
or
to
acquire
,
under
my
tuition
,
any
piece
of
information
whatever
.
Yet
he
would
smoke
his
pipe
at
the
Battery
with
a
far
more
sagacious
air
than
anywhere
else
—
even
with
a
learned
air
—
as
if
he
considered
himself
to
be
advancing
immensely
.
Dear
fellow
,
I
hope
he
did
.
It
was
pleasant
and
quiet
,
out
there
with
the
sails
on
the
river
passing
beyond
the
earthwork
,
and
sometimes
,
when
the
tide
was
low
,
looking
as
if
they
belonged
to
sunken
ships
that
were
still
sailing
on
at
the
bottom
of
the
water
.
Whenever
I
watched
the
vessels
standing
out
to
sea
with
their
white
sails
spread
,
I
somehow
thought
of
Miss
Havisham
and
Estella
;
and
whenever
the
light
struck
aslant
,
afar
off
,
upon
a
cloud
or
sail
or
green
hillside
or
water
-
line
,
it
was
just
the
same
.
—
Miss
Havisham
and
Estella
and
the
strange
house
and
the
strange
life
appeared
to
have
something
to
do
with
everything
that
was
picturesque
.
One
Sunday
when
Joe
,
greatly
enjoying
his
pipe
,
had
so
plumed
himself
on
being
"
most
awful
dull
,
"
that
I
had
given
him
up
for
the
day
,
I
lay
on
the
earthwork
for
some
time
with
my
chin
on
my
hand
,
descrying
traces
of
Miss
Havisham
and
Estella
all
over
the
prospect
,
in
the
sky
and
in
the
water
,
until
at
last
I
resolved
to
mention
a
thought
concerning
them
that
had
been
much
in
my
head
.
"
Joe
,
"
said
I
;
"
don
’
t
you
think
I
ought
to
make
Miss
Havisham
a
visit
?
"
"
Well
,
Pip
,
"
returned
Joe
,
slowly
considering
.
"
What
for
?
"
"
What
for
,
Joe
?
What
is
any
visit
made
for
?
"
"
There
is
some
wisits
p
’
r
’
aps
,
"
said
Joe
,
"
as
for
ever
remains
open
to
the
question
,
Pip
.
But
in
regard
to
wisiting
Miss
Havisham
.
She
might
think
you
wanted
something
—
expected
something
of
her
.
"
"
Don
’
t
you
think
I
might
say
that
I
did
not
,
Joe
?
"
