Chapter One. In Which I Introduce Myself

This is the story of a bad boy. Well, not such a very bad, but a pretty bad boy； and I ought to know, for I am, or rather I was, that boy myself.

Lest the title should mislead the reader, I hasten to assure him here that I have no dark confessions to make. I call my story the story of a bad boy, partly to distinguish myself from those faultless young gentlemen who generally figure in narratives of this kind, and partly because I really was not a cherub. I may truthfully say I was an amiable, impulsive lad, blessed with fine digestive powers, and no hypocrite. I didn‘t want to be an angel and with the angels stand； I didn‘t think the missionary tracts presented to me by the Rev. Wibird Hawkins were half so nice as Robinson Crusoe； and I didn‘t send my little pocket-money to the natives of the Feejee Islands, but spent it royally in peppermint-drops and taffy candy. In short, I was a real human boy, such as you may meet anywhe

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