"The last day of October " said the Sun to himself, -"the last day of my favorite month, and the birthday of my little namesake See if I don't make the most of it " So the Sun called to all the winds and all the breezes, who, poor things had but just gone to bed after a terrible night's work, ordering them to get up directly, and sweep the sky as clear as a bell; and bid all the clouds, whether big white mountains, little pinky islands, sweeping...
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