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Cousin de la marte

I never thought I’d lay my teary old eyes on him. There he stands next to his sweetie-pie Shannon. She never had a last name that I know of.

I have no idea who that fellow is on top of the ladder.

Cousin De La Marte wasn’t himself when he departed the Adirondacks. No – – – he wasn’t himself.

Oh-oh. That didn’t come out right. I didn’t mean that he was distraught or disturbed or beside himself. What I meant was that he wasn’t Cousin De La Marte.

You see, he was a cousin on my mother’s side. His mother was my mother’s sister. Her name was Lizbeth. She married a fellow from up north; a Frenchman from Canada.

The family name was Delamarter.

Cousin De La Marte departed the Adirondacks during the Gold Rush of ’49. Took a boat down the Hudson, the Atlantic, around some cape or another and then up the Pacific. That’s what his letter to Aunt Lizbeth said.

Hudson,Atlantic,cape,Pacific – – – yep, I got ‘em all correct.

Cousin – – – – – – – – can I just call him Delamarter? It is so much easier.

He made a few cents panning for gold. Invested it in land and the lumber business.

So now he calls himself De – – – La – – – Marte – – – real slow like. And would you believe it he signs his name that way too.

I think the gold went to his head. Or maybe sweet Shannon, that pearl from Eire, talked him into it

I don’t think Cousin Delamarter could come up with something as creative as De La Marte.

I bet he sent this picture back here to the Adirondacks just to brag a little. Can’t blame him. That is one big tree.

Now that he has it on the ground I wonder how he is going to cut it up?

Or find a mill big enough to handle it?

Or get it to the mill?

Tahawas and Tomosky c

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