October 06, 2013

Autobiography Of An Old Shirt

Essay : [Autobiography Of An Old Shirt]

English Essay on "Autobiography Of An Old Shirt"


Autobiography Of An Old Shirt

I was born in a tailor's shop. Naturally, I was a bit dirty when I reached my first master. He sent me straight to a washer man. This washer man was unlike any that you know of. He did not believe in using any bleaching powder or caustic soda for cleaning the clothes that were daily brought to him. He put me into a huge boiling pot along with a large number of other clothes of all description' and sizes. We were boiled for a few hours at a stretch.


The next operation was to beat us, one by one, on slabs of stone. This beating was, now and then, punctuated with dipping in a tub of water. When I was completely rid of dirt, I was squeezed so hard that the last drop of water trickled out of my body. Then I was dipped in a trough containing 'imago' water and squeezed once more. After this I was stretched on a thin wired tied to the middle of a tree at one end and to the top of a pole at the other. There stayed the whole afternoon. Soon I was completely dry and the strong wind that blew made me swing from side to side. I liked this experience but, was not allowed to enjoy this for long.


I was off the line, moistened a little, and straightened under the heavy weight of a hot 'iron'. Every time I was touched with 'iron', the moisture in any body went up in the form of steam.


I have thought it proper to mention this treatment of me at the washer man's at some length, because it was meted out to me every time I was considered dirty. Being a school teacher, my master was very careful about his dress and seldom wore me for more than two days at a time. However, he had so many other shirts that I saw active service only on rare occasions.


After I had been serving the teacher for about a year, he received an invitation one day to a dinner party. He decided to wear me for the occasion. He normally avoided strong drinks, but that day he drank rather too much. He rose as he was drinking and emptied his glass of wine on to the head of a man, with whom he was having some argument.(4essay.blogspot.com) The other would not be outdone he took hold of a pot of gravy and hurled it at the teacher. He was not seriously hurt, but I was stained beyond recognition.


Next morning when he found no treatment, would remove the marks of the previous night's battle from me, he passed me on to his gardener. This fellow took me home to his wife. She bought some brownish dye form the town and boiled me with it. I was changed beyond recognition.


I was not sent to a washer man for a long time. At first I blessed my stars for his neglect-you see the washer man was by no means a kind person but soon I began to smell so horribly that I felt ashamed of myself. Dirt and dust settled into my very texture, and I began to be torn here and there.


Now, here I am among these tattered rags-all of us unwanted by man. I believe I shall now be used for the manufacture of paper. Life has no end.


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