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THE PELOQUIN HERITAGE
Written by
Agnes (Peloquin) Rajala
For the descendents of
Alfred Paul Peloquin and Hulda Karolin Johansson




The Peloquin family in America began with Francois Peloquin, who came to the New World in 1692 as a soldier of St. Ours. Notice that he came from the region of France then known as Poitou, which included the Loire Valley.

This is the region from which most of the colorful voyageurs of the fur trade came - they were renowned for their good singing voices and sense of rhythm, and they brought with them their French folk songs, such as Alouette and En Roulant Ma Boule and others. They sang these as they paddled the huge Montreal and smaller Canot du Nord, to establish a rhythm for their paddles.

Francois' parents were Mathurin Peloquin and his wife Ambroise Syllart, and I know nothing more of them.

In America, Francois was known as Francois Peloquin dit Credit - "dit" being a term that meant "called" (or we would say "aka" or "also known as"). You will see this term in later branches of the family, as well.

He married, in 1699, a widow, Marie Niquet, whose father was Seigneur Pierre-Rene Niquet of Saint Francois du Lac. They had three sons: Felix, Francois, and Pierre. Pierre married Genevieve Tournois, and he and his descendants continued to be called "dit Credit". (Mathieu Peloquin dit Credit, who was lost in an early Franklin expedition, was of this branch). Felix is our particular ancestor and his children were known as "Peloquin dit Felix", or often, just plain " Felix". They also had 2 daughters, Marie-Therese and Therese, and from his second marriage to Francoise Hare in 1709 Francois acquired an additional daughter. (You will note a certain lack of imagination in the matter of names, all down the line.) Francois died in 1727 at the age of 70 years and was buried at St. Ours. Eventually his descendants came to number more than 3,000. But Felix is the one who matters to us.

Felix Peloquin, born in 1700, was married in 1720 to Marie-Anne Pelletier of Sorel. She was born in 1697, so was three years older than he. Her father was Michel Pelletier dit Antaya (which is believed to be derived from Entaillat), Seigneur d'Fief D'Ovilliers. He had been established at Ile d'Orleans by 1685, as an important person.

Let's digress a bit into the Pelletier line here. Since they were old-timers, there were already lots of Pelletiers in the New World, and they were intermarried into practically every family. You'll find several of them in our tree. They were voyageurs too - Jean Baptiste Pelletier and Louis Pelletier are mentioned in the Journal of Alexander Henry as having just arrived from the Assiniboine; there was a Peltier of the North West Fur Co. at Pine Fort on the Assiniboine in October, 1793; and Jean Baptiste and Louis were voyageurs of the North West Co. at Nipigon in 1804.
Now, back to Felix Peloquin.

Felix and Marie had 17 children. Their names were Francois, Marie, Pierre, Joseph, Charles, Felix, Genevieve, Josephe, Emmanuel-Felix, Antoine, Joseph, Anne, Baptiste, Prisque, Catherine, Paul, Ursule, and Rosalie -- all born between 1721 and 1742. You can see why such terms as "dit Felix" came into being, when you note that they used the name Joseph twice, and added a Josephe. Prisque (b. 1736) became a courier de bois, and disappeared into the forest and never returned. Nothing is known of his fate. In fact, most of their sons became voyagers, which was natural as they lived in Sorel, the cradle of the fur trade.

Antoine, born 1734, is our particular ancestor from this tribe. He married Marie-Joseph St Martin in 1755 in Sorel, and had several children (it says), with Pierre (our ancestor) making his appearance in 1758. There are records of Antoine Felix being "engaged" (hired) for the western fur trade at Michilimackinac on Jan. 30, 1784, by Sir Richard Dobie, and for the Mississippi area in 1786. Further, I have copies of the actual records that show Antoine working for the American Fur Company at Prairie Du Chein, with a list of the actual goods he took with him to his post at the Black River, and. the furs and such he brought back. Obviously his job was to bring trade goods to a certain place in the middle of nowhere to trade with the Indians. So he was more than a voyageur - he was a trader.

You know about the voyageurs. To me they were the glamorous daring young men of the colonial days, dashing and romantic. They were strong - they had to be, for 'he work of paddling the canoes those endless miles for long days was relentlessly hard. And they prided themselves on the enormous heavy packs they portaged. They had to be brave, too, facing the dangers of rapids, wild animals, Indians, rival fur traders, and accidents of all kinds. Hardiness was a given: there were no concessions to bad weather, they carried no tents, and food was a handful of dried corn. And they accepted all this uncomplainingly, in fact they were noted for their cheerful, happy dispositions and their wit and loyalty.

And they could sing. It is said they were chosen for their good singing voices. (Did you know that Papa had a good, true voice? He told me once that he was the star of the "singing school" in Centerville. This was a seasonal affair, when people of the time got together and learned new songs and just sang for the fun of it. He was forced to drop out when his brother Prisque's wife died, it was considered disrespectful of the dead and therefore unthinkable to take part in any fun at such times - even though the leader begged him.)


And they could sing. It is said they were chosen for their good singing voices. (Did you know that Papa had a good, true voice? He told me once that he was the star of the "singing school" in Centerville. This was a seasonal affair, when people of the time got together and learned new songs and just sang for the fun of it. He was forced to drop out when his brother Prisque's wife died, it was considered disrespectful of the dead and therefore unthinkable to take part in any fun at such times - even though the leader begged him.)

So now we go back to Antoine's son Pierre. Pierre Peloquin, or Pierre Felix, continued in the family tradition of being a voyageur, being on record of having in 1791 gone from Montreal to ??? and Detroit. (St Boniface archives p. 298). According to Elliott Coues' index v. 2 p. 947, Pierre Felix was a voyageur for Northwest Co. in Nipigon . His wife was Marguerite Cournoyer whose forbears had been in French Canada since the early 1600's. (See Paul Hus). They were married in 1783). 1 seem to have lost my list of his children, but among them, as I recall, were two named Prisque, one born in 1785 and one years later. Which certainly makes things confusing, at least to me.

With the Prisque born in 1785 we continue our saga. He too became a voyageur, and Papa (my father) had stories about him. In fact, that's what started me swinging in the family tree. It happened after Mamma died, in 1950, that Ben, Earl, Papa and I were delegated to go to Grand Rapids (we lived in Bigfork, and there was no mortuary) to make Mamma's funeral arrangements. On the way back, Papa and I sat together in the back and he began to talk about his father. He said that his father noticed in this area many names that he'd heard his father (the old voyageur Prisque) mention - Leech Lake, Lake of the Woods, Bowstring River, etc. - and he said he believed from that circumstance that his father (Prisque of 1785) had canoed the same rivers and walked in the same forests. The idea intrigued me, and I started trying to find some proof.

There does seem to be some documentation, both of his familiarity with Northern Minnesota and his having been to the Pacific Ocean, both of which stories were told at the Peloquin Family Picnic. Records show that Prisque Felix, of Sorel, had an engagement to the "Gentlemen of the Company of Michilimackinac" to go to Michilimackinac to trade, Jan. 1801, under the auspices of Louis Chaboillez - who did a lot of trading in this area. What's even more amazing is that his name appears on a list of men of the "former Pacific Fur Company", as one of the "Clerks and Men at Ft. Okanagan", in Washington. His is the third name after that of Alexander Ross - who wrote a book about his hair-raising adventures (The Fur Hunters of the Far West) and never once mentioned his ol' partner Prisque Felix, though he must have known him. (From Hudson's Bay archives).


The rest of this legend is that Prisque went into the fur trade as a lad of 16 years. The story is that as he and his fellows paddled out of Sorel, they heard church bells ringing for the baptism of a little girl, Josette Bibeau. Prisque remained in the wilds for 16 years, never returning in that time (and though other men took Indian wives, Uncle Joe assured me that he did not). During this time he crossed the Rocky Mountains, and saw the Pacific Ocean (and the proof of this is in what Aunt Maggie said, "with bags of money", which is very believable since he hadn't had a chance to spend any of it.) He married Josette Bibeau, who was now 16 years old, built a large house in St. Robert, and raised a large family, of which my grandfather, also named Prisque Peloquin, was one. I had a picture of his house, but (alas) it got lost.

He died there at the age of 80 (his tough life having not hurt him any). Josette outlived him by 21 years, dying at 70. (Some discrepancy of number there, h'mmm?)

Uncle Joe and Aunt Mathilda both appeared to remember "Grandmamma Josette"- perhaps she came to Minnesota eventually, I don't know. I do know that we have a picture of her, looking for all the world like Whistler's Mother.

This brings us to the migration from Canada to US.

The Pelletiers came first, of our forbears. Anoka County records that Charles Peltier (sic) arrived in Centerville with the earliest settlers. It wasn't a settled area - there were Indian battles in 1854 and 1858. Joseph (my great-grandfather) came in 1849, with his family - his daughter Eleanor had been born in 1843. (He had 13 children in all, one of them who had a son, Charles Pelletier, who lived in Papa's home for some years after the death of his mother. Papa recalled that- when the "old man" came to visit his son, he smelled terrible - he was a trapper. Papa visited Charles Pelletier in Spokane in about 1970).

The trip was horrendous: they took all their goods, cattle and horses (or so Uncle Prisque told Ben) on a flatboat, and went up the St. 'Lawrence and across the Great Lakes to Milwaukee. That took all summer. From there they went overland to St. Paul.

Just when Prisque Peloquin came I'm not sure, but it's safe to guess 1861.


He arrived at the home of Joseph (Urbain) Pelletier and saw there the little dark-eyed daughter of the house and that settled his fate. He went back to Canada and asked his father for $300 to buy land near Centerville, and the old fur trader still had some left although (Papa said) Uncle Charlie's branch of the family (Calix) had got away with as much of it as they could. So he gave his son the money, and asked about the area. The name "St Paul" meant nothing to him, but after being told about the two rivers that met there, he said, "I know that place. I've been there. Once the Indians hid me in a cave, there, for three days, while other Indians were after me." And Papa learned, later, that there actually was a cave where his grandfather said. And he remembered St. Anthony Falls, too.

Prisque returned to Minnesota, bought 40 acres, and cleared it - it was all hardwood, oak and maple mostly, Papa said - and made a farm which later became Uncle Joe's. His marriage to Eleanor Pelletier was in 1862, and they had children:

PAUL HUS THE HUSTLER


The Hus line joins the Peloquins next after the Pelletiers. It has other forms: Huet, Hue. Paul was born in Montigny, near Rouen, in Normandy, France, in 1645. When he was 18 (in 1663) he came to Canada in the household of Sieur Robert Giffard, confidential secretary and doctor to the Siegneur of Beauport. At that time the population of New France was about 3,000 people, in 528 households.

He kept that job for 4 years. In 1668 he went on an expedition with Msgr De Laval. Then he got a job with Mathurin Baillargeon, a man of influence at Cap-de-Madeleine, where he had lived since 1649. Being intelligent, Paul married the boss' daughter, Jeanne. She was 14 at the time (1669). Her dowry, according to the marriage contract, was 200 livres, a pair of beeves, etc.

There was always the continual struggle with the Iroquois. The nearby town of Sillery was completely devastated by the Americans and their Indian allies in the fierce raids. During this time of history, Ft. Richelieu had been built in 1642 and burned by the Iroquois in 1647. It was rebuilt in 1664. Paul built his home near the fort, a place later known as Sorel, and took his new bride to their home in a rowboat. The couple prospered. Paul was a close friend of Pierre de Saurel, the Seigneur. But it was a life of pioneer dangers. A pair of little boys died - of what I don't know - in 1687, and were buried on the same day. His son, Paul, was killed by Iroquois in 1690 when he was 8 years old. In 1696 another Indian attack brought total destruction. Paul was 51, but with his son Louis they again rebuilt.

Eventually he became a person of some consequence and influence. Records mention that he was present at meetings with official groups.

By 1721, besides his farm near the old fort, he owned a large estate stretching 2.5 miles along the St. Lawrence, plus two islands. So he established at least 5 of his sons on it. (He had 14 children). In fact (these French!) of his 6 sons who married, 5 had a total of 59 children. And that is why to avoid confusion among the many Louises and Pauls, some of them adopted "dit" names: Marc-Antoine, for example, was Hus-Millet, goodness knows why - did he raise the stuff? And later he added Beachamin. Others called themselves Paulhus. The one we are interested in, Pierre (1677-1751) became HUS-COURNOYER. No one knows why. "Court noyer" means short oak - was there one near his house? Or was he built like one?




Pierre's children numbered 11. And his son Jean-Baptiste Hus-Cournoyer married Genevieve Pelletier, in 1732. So back we go to the Pelletiers again.

In Jean Baptiste we have another voyageur. Alexander Henry mentions him in his Journal (1801-2) saying, "Oct. 27 Cournoyer of the XY started with four men for the Hair Hills, to build near Langlois. Neither of my neighbors has a horse; all their transportation is on men's backs." And he is listed as a voyageur of the North West Company at Lake Winnipeg, after the fusion of 1804. Because of the dates, it was likely a son of our Jean Baptiste. But who knows? One of Jean-Baptiste's sons, Pierre Hus-Cournoyer, born 1741, was married in 1763 to Marguerite Gouin. This is about the time of the French and Indian Wars, to put it into historical perspective. Their daughter, Marguerite Cournoyer (no more Hus) married Pierre Peloquin dit Felix in 1783. That brings us to his son, the old fur trader, and Papa's grandfather, Prisque Peloquin dit Felix (1785 - 1865) with his wife Grandmamma Josette, and so on down the line. So Paul Hus' name disappears, but I like to think his spirit of adventure was handed on.



HISTORY MYSTERY: WHERE'S THE FRENCH CONNECTION?


It all started in about 1943, when the word was spread about that Aunt Maggie and Aunt Mathilda had told of a childhood memory. They recalled their grandmother - Marguerite Chevalier Neveux - telling them an interesting story of how when she was a small child (perhaps 4 years old) she was wakened in the dead of night, quickly dressed, and brought to the courtyard of their home in France where caped and booted riders waited.

The family treasure was buried, she was handed to one of the riders, and they rode without stopping as fast as they could to the seacoast. There they took the first ship in port, which happened to be going to Canada. They were escaping for their lives because they were adherents of the King presumably during the French Revolution.

The story received mixed reactions. Papa said whimsically that he wished Aunt Maggie and Aunt Mathilda had told him of his royal blood earlier, and then he wouldn't have had to work for a living. Earl said only that it was no surprise to him that they hadn't brought along the family fortune.

I thought it was exciting, and from that time on I've tried to find some proof that it was true. Alas, what I seem to learn doesn't reinforce the story at all - the dates just don't mesh. But I can't bring myself to believe (now that I am myself a grandmother) that their grandmother would have lied to two little girls. For what reason? And why such a story in the first place? They weren't an educated family. Aunt Maggie didn't understand the historical significance of the situation, she just knew there was some kind of upset in politics. And being related to the kings of France had at that time was no great honor.

So I believe there has to be a link somewhere. One clue is the name, Valois, which occurs in the family lineage. That happened to be the name of a line of French kings which included Henry of Navarre, and goes back through his mother, the infamous Catherine di Medici, to Lorenzo di Medici, the Magnificent, ruler of Florence, Italy. Unfortunately these kings appear to have had numerous progeny who didn't or couldn't continue their royal state, so that Valois is by no means an uncommon name in French Canada.

Walter Jones (Grandson of Aunt Lenore Briant) had an interesting theory. He was quite excited over the fact that the Dauphin, the son of Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI, unaccountably disappeared from the prison where he had been held with his parents. Where did he go? In later years one of his jailers claimed to have smuggled him out and it is known that there was a national search for the Dauphin, instituted by Barras. A child who died in prison was reported %to be the Dauphin, but investigation proved that he was the wrong age. After the revolution, at least 27 men claimed to be the Dauphin, one even listed as that on his death certificate. But it does seem quite credible that friends who wanted to save the boy's life might have shipped him off to New France, to live his life as a commoner. So - what name did he take?

Another possibility would be that it wasn't at the time of the French Revolution at all, but some other period of unrest. And that in telling the tale, Marguerite said it was her aunt, or her mother, or grandmother, and ''the little girls remembered it as being her own experience. Your guess is as good as mine.

Marguerite Chevalier's family had been in the New World a century when she was born, presumably 1804. She and her husband Antoine Neveux had 10 children - among them Uncle Tom Neveux (Damase), '-the first settler of Bigfork. When she was widowed, she came to Minnesota to make her home with her daughter Eleanor, wife of Joseph Pelletier. She appears in the 1870 Minnesota Census, Anoka County, Centerville Township, as aged 66, and her name is spelled most peculiarly. (Joseph was 49, "Lenora", 45, with 6 children between the ages of 6 and 21.) She is not in the 1860 census, where Joseph and "Leonard" are listed as having 5 kids born in Canada and 2 besides, with a couple whose names the census taker gave up on. At that time Joseph's farm was said to be worth $400, with personal property worth $150. It is noted that Joseph could not read.

Papa remembered her as Grandmama Vitalle, and he was scared to death of her. He said she was like a little black bird, with fierce black eyes. She had a cane, and he was always afraid she'd reach out with her cane and snag him. So he wasn't included in any of her stories.

Some day maybe we'll know the whole truth.



PAPA'S FAMILY STORIES


There was a lot of drama in Papa's family, and some of it may be of interest to you. First, their personalities.

They were a loving, loyal family, though there was quite an age spread: Uncle Prisque was 20 years older than Papa was. So you can imagine that they had quite different upbringings. In fact, Aunt Lenore must have been grown up and married before Papa was born, since her daughter Mary Jones was Papa's age. I never knew much about her, except that at 99 she was still doing her own housework and coming to the Peloquin family picnics.

Uncle Prisque was a model of an eldest son: upright, honest, hard working. He wasted no time and no breath - Papa said he never walked if he could run. He had no time for laziness: one of his sayings was, "You can tell an Irishman by the size of his woodpile."

When his first wife died in childbirth he left Forest Lake, where he had a butcher shop, and went up to Uncle Tom's at Bigfork, working in the woods. (Papa said he soon got disgusted with Uncle Tom, who was a die-hard drinker). He soon realized the potential of the timber in the area, and when it was opened for settlement, he saw a way to do a favor for his sister (Aunt Maggie) who with her husband (Uncle Charlie) had taken over the care of his infant daughter Rose. He picked out a pine-covered claim for them.

From this his parents conceived the idea that they would provide for the only son at home, Alfred, by proving up on a homestead for him; he being too young to be legally entitled to do so. That would leave the Centerville farm to Uncle Joe, who was then married and living there with them.

Papa was ecstatic at the idea. Apparently his voyageur blood was strong enough so that he wanted nothing more than to live in the wilderness. He was quite disappointed that Prisque had built them a shack - he wanted to do that himself.

Papa, his father and Uncle Charlie arrived at Deer River by train and drove up to Bigfork by sled using the river as a highway, arriving at Uncle Toms late that night. I'm a bit curious about his father's calling to Uncle Tom (who was his bosom buddy) "Come on out, Old Six!" Old Six was the name given to the chief Shakopee, whose village was near St Paul. What was the significance, I wonder?

The women came later, in March; as Aunt Maggie told it, they had a horrendous rail journey, since both Rose and Marie had smallpox at the time, and should have been home, under quarantine, so they draped them both with heavy veils and allowed no one to see them. When they got to their last lap things weren't any better. Ice was going out - so Prisque walked ahead of the team through the water on the ice, testing it with a stick, to be sure the horses didn't fall through.

I'm sure you remember Aunt Mathilda and Uncle Joe. He was a really nice person, gentle and decent and witty. Papa said that he and Aunt Mathilda teased him mercilessly, but it was all in fun. I don't think I ever saw a nicer man. (Papa himself was a tease, and really enjoyed a good joke). Uncle Joe was a real favorite with us kids, because he always made it a point to shake hands with every one of us, as if we were important.

And Aunt Mathilda was a darling, a cute little Frenchwoman with a real French accent. I remember her at Como Park saying, "Me, I could look at those little monkey all day." and, when I told you kids she had a featherbed, "All French have featherbed." Her happy spirit made a difference to her father, too. When she got married, a neighbor congratulated him; and Papa said big tears stole down his face and he shook his head and said, "big 'ole in my 'ouse". She went to live in Cloquet, and when she visited home she brought with her in her trunk some samples of all the different evergreens - up to that time Papa had seen only leaf trees.

Aunt Maggie was strict, stern and opinionated. I think she had a kind heart, (eventually I grew to like her a lot) but it was hidden in her bossiness. Rose was her darling, and when she realized Uncle Prisque was about to take another wife, she was determined not to give her up. So she and Uncle Charlie packed up and lit out for Massachusetts, where his branch of the family had located. And Rose was out of uncle Prisque's reach. She too was a little bird, but a sort of fat little pigeon. Your parents will remember seeing both aunts at the family picnics of the1960's, in their black dresses and hats.

Aunt Mary was beautiful, romantic and tragic. She was papa's special pal - they were the youngest members of the family. (Papa never mentioned - perhaps he never knew - that his parents had a child Emelie in 1869, an Antoine in 1877 and an Alfred Paul in 1881, and he himself was baptized Paul Alfred). She was the idol of her parents, too, and they were devastated when they found that at 16 she had eloped with Joseph Neveux, a likeable man with lots of charm but a total alcoholic, and twice her age. They thought her life would be ruined.

They got word to Uncle Prisque (the bulwark of the family). Knowing that in going by train they would have to go by Deer River, he knew he could beat them to the county seat (Grand Rapids) with horses. So he did. And though he arrived in Grand Rapids ahead of them, he couldn't find them - Joe's friend Jess Harry, the constable had hidden them in the jail until they could be married. So Prisque's mission failed, and he was furious. He declared he'd never speak to Joe or Mary again. Papa felt that he also should be furious, so he said that he wouldn't speak to them either.

However, when they returned from Grand Rapids they came to make peace with Mary's folks. Papa was at the woodpile, chopping. He kept his back turned, but Joe came up to him and said, "Aren't you going to shake hands with me, Fred?" And Papa, who'd always liked Joe, said, "I just couldn't hold out. I shook hands with him."

I don't believe Uncle Prisque held out, either, because I've found in the Bigfork paper an article that said, "Mr. and Mrs. Joe Neveux have returned from cooking at Pris Peloquin's camp."

Joe Neveux' alcoholism killed him when their daughter was 2. Mary later married Peter Marier, and on the day of his funeral their son was killed by an accidental shot by his cousin. Life certainly handed her some bitter deals.

Papa said his father was a very sociable, talkative soul. They used to sell hay at the St Paul farmer's market, hauling a load in at the crack of dawn, and delivering it to whatever address the buyer gave them. That's how Papa became a teetotaler: he was riding along in the wagon, and the men on the seat were passing a bottle back and forth. Papa took a belt when it got back to him, a couple of times, and wound up so sick he wished he could die. And that ended his taste for liquor.

His mother, he said, was very devout. She kept the family on their knees saying the rosary after supper every evening, in spite o-F Uncle Tom's knocking at the door (hoping for a game of cribbage) and saying "Ain't you done yet?" When his father reported that she had seen the Virgin Mary in a vision, she was annoyed with him for being such a blabber, but she told Papa it was true.

Mary Jones (Aunt Lenore's daughter) had a story and I wish I could reproduce her French accent. Grandpa Pelletier (she said) looked out the window across the lake, at a time of Indian unrest when all the men went to their fields together, leaving the women and oldsters in the settlement. And he said to his wife (Eleanor Neveux) "Here comes your daughter. She is paddling her canoe. And she is coming fast. I think she is in a hurree." Their daughter Lenore was indeed coming across the lake, standing in the canoe and paddling furiously while the wind blew her skirts (yes, plural; she wore petticoats too) over her head, with her only child in the canoe in front of her. She got there safely, obviously. The scare had been that she had seen Indians prowling about the place. Another Mary Jones tale was that when she and Papa were in first grade together, he refused to play with her unless she would call him "uncle".

I have no recollection of Grandpa Peloquin, who died before I was born, though for many years the black-bordered letter Aunt Maggie sent Papa describing his last hours was kept in the desk, and (awful kids that we were) we often laughed over it. But Grandma Peloquin came to Bigfork once that I remember. I think all the English she said was "Gran'ma beau kiss", and I remember her as a small person in black. She offered me (the baby of the family at that time) my choice between a cup and a penny, and being a mercenary soul even then, I opted for the penny. Not so dumb, as it happened - I remember much grown-up laughter, and I was given the cup as well. (I still have it.)



PAPA'S PHILOSOPHY


Laugh, and the world laughs with you. Cry, and the world laughs at you.


Many thanks to Agnes (Peloquin) Rajala for this wonderful story of our family



Please write to the web site master . If you would like to submit other bits of history from our family, I'll be happy to do so. Or if you have links to sites that would be of interest to the Peloquins / Pelloquins everywhere, please submit those as well.

Paul Peloquin

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