autobiography of a old book
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Autobiography of an old book....
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I am an old shabby, story-book. I have become dirty and dog-eared. I am handled very roughly by my present owner.
How I wish for the old days when I was a slender pine tree in a mountain forest! The breeze blew softly through me. The birds sat on me and sang sweetly. I was very happy then.
One sad day I was cruelly felled by workmen. I was taken to a paper mill. My soft wood was crushed and made into thin sheets of paper. As paper then, I was transported to a printing press. Here a story was printed on me and many lovely pictures were printed too to illustrate the story.
My companions and I were sent to a large book shop. A poor man bought me for his sick child. The child was delighted to have me. He spent many happy hours in my company. He turned over my pages very carefully. He handled me with loving care.
Alas! this happy life did not last long ! One of this child's friends stole me. He took me home. He threw me about and handled me very roughly. I became dirty and shabby. My pages became dog-eared. Now I must spend the rest of my life with this cruel boy. How unhappy I am!
..
I am an old shabby, story-book. I have become dirty and dog-eared. I am handled very roughly by my present owner.
How I wish for the old days when I was a slender pine tree in a mountain forest! The breeze blew softly through me. The birds sat on me and sang sweetly. I was very happy then.
One sad day I was cruelly felled by workmen. I was taken to a paper mill. My soft wood was crushed and made into thin sheets of paper. As paper then, I was transported to a printing press. Here a story was printed on me and many lovely pictures were printed too to illustrate the story.
My companions and I were sent to a large book shop. A poor man bought me for his sick child. The child was delighted to have me. He spent many happy hours in my company. He turned over my pages very carefully. He handled me with loving care.
Alas! this happy life did not last long ! One of this child's friends stole me. He took me home. He threw me about and handled me very roughly. I became dirty and shabby. My pages became dog-eared. Now I must spend the rest of my life with this cruel boy. How unhappy I am!
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Answer:
an autobiography of an old book
Explanation:
I am an old shabby, story-book. I have become dirty and dog-eared. I am handled very roughly by my present owner.
How I wish for the old days when I was a slender pine tree in a mountain forest! The breeze blew softly through me. The birds sat on me and sang sweetly. I was very happy then.
One sad day I was cruelly felled by workmen. I was taken to a paper mill. My soft wood was crushed and made into thin sheets of paper. As paper then, I was transported to a printing press. Here a story was printed on me and many lovely pictures were printed too to illustrate the story.
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