By this time, my little Master Thomas had learned how to write and had written over a number of copybooks.

此时，我的小主人托马斯已经会如何写字，抄写了几本字帖了。

He thrust the copybook into the table drawer and went back to bed.

他把字帖塞桌子的抽屉里， 然后回到床上。

During this time, my copybook was the board fence, brick wall, and the pavement; my pen and ink was a lump of chalk.

那时候，木栅栏、砖墙、路面我的抄写本，粉我的钢和墨水。

" I keep turning over new leaves, and spoiling them, as I used to spoil my copybooks, and I make so many beginnings there never will be an end, " he said dolefully.

“我一直在翻新的叶子，破坏它们，像我过去破坏我的抄写本一样，我做了很多开始，永远不会结束，”他悲伤地说。