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

此时，小主人托马斯已经学会如何写字，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、路面就抄写本，粉笔就钢笔和墨水。

" 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.

“一直在翻新叶子，破坏它们，就像过去破坏抄写本一样，做了很多开始，永远不会结束，”他悲伤地说。