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My moder was eighty-two, an' my gran'moder was ninety-siven, an' my great-gran'moder was a hun'r'd an' sixteen, an' dey was all alive togidder, an' at fuss you couldn' tell which was de oldest. Dey run neck an' neck for a long time, but arter de great-gran' one pass de hunr' milestone oh! she hoed ahead like a rattlesnake. De wrinkles an' de crows' foots, an' de de colour jes' like bu'nt leather!
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