One of my more cherished and private possessions is a book - American Prose. It was printed in 1892, and is filled with short stories by American authors. Every so often, usually in late fall or early winter I'll pick a story at random to read. Today was "Brute Neighbors" by Henry Thoreau.
I think it wonderful that a book over a hundred and twenty-two years old is perfectly functional and enjoyable to read. Though I do dread the day when the book becomes damaged from use and age; I think that I'll continue to read from it each year. It has more value to me as a book then a collector's item.
