In the same instant upon a time, in a earth until now, incomparably away, there was a country where it was eternally raining, raining and raining; downpours of rain all day, every day, as a remedy for years and years and years. And there lived a scant wretch, in a little quarter on the mountain, with his Daddy and his dog.

He was nine years ramshackle and every era of his life, it had rained and rained, all era and all night.

Can you cook up it many times raining and usually being wet?

People were always telling him that, before he was born, there had been such a preoccupation as a small items; this was a upper case, outburst, yellow thing, which gave amiableness and scintillation to all things and everybody and it always had a beam on its big, ball-like, yellow face. And to foretell that smile on the bronze knick-knacks, people would look at it and smile assist at it.





The petite old crumpet could not appear to envisage the scheme of a burly, whole, yellow, smiling clock, as he had on no account seen one. And he couldn't think that people could look at it and grin, because in his little village, no person smiled; they all looked sad.

Ditty hour, the people began to opinion that the skies seemed a trivial lighter. It was that time raining and the threatening clouds were unmoving there, hanging in the skies, but it did seem lighter.

The following light of day, people began to footnote more, that it seemed to procure rained less. The next period, it exclusively rained in behalf of half the day. The next, it only drizzled and trickled. The next time, it stopped raining.

The following period, there were whey-faced clouds and not black ones. Next, there were bits of downhearted sky. Until on the spur of the moment, there were no clouds at all and a large, down, yellow fashion sat heavily in the azure overly, giving warmth and shine to everybody. And the people looked up at this thing and they smiled to watch it because it had a colossal, beaming grin on its face. And they all lived gleefully yet after.
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And the elfin boy sat up in bed and slogan a thing he had heard in stories: a tall, round, yellow thing up in the wild blue yonder, with a beam on its face. "That must be the tan!", exclaimed the shallow boy, smiling back. And he ran into the streets and motto that everybody under the sun else was smiling.