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Moll Ryan trudged up the steep "bohereen" whose banks were overgrown with thorn and brambles, and stooping under her burden, re-entered her door, where her dark-haired daughter Nell met her with a welcome, and relieved her of her hamper. Moll Ryan looked round with a sigh of relief, and drying her forehead, uttered the Munster ejaculation: "Eiah, wisha! It's tired I am with it, God bless it.
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