Hi Lorraine, I'm sure someone else will reply to you on the Census - but as to the poem - it was just beautiful! Thanks Thelma From: E. Spencer <espencer@intranet.ca> >Hello Everyone: > >I would like to share this poem with you that I got on another >site. I would also like to know if there is ANYONE that has >the 1851 Census (Inverness). I know there are people with some >of it but I sure would like to hear from someone that could search >the Isle of Skye for me. Has anyone transcribed it, can it be >purchased. Any help appreciated. Many Thanks >Lorraine Ottawa, Canada > > >CENSUS TAKER > >It was the first day of census, and all through the land; >The pollster was ready ... a black book in hand. >He mounted his horse for a long dusty ride; >His book and some quills were tucked close by his side. > >A long winding ride down a road barely there; >Toward the smell of fresh bread wafting, up through the air. >The woman was tired, with lines on her face; >And wisps of brown hair she tucked back into place. > >She gave him some water ... as they sat at the table; >And she answered his questions ... the best she was able. >He asked of her children... Yes, she had quite a few; >The oldest was twenty, the youngest not two. > >She held up a toddler with cheeks round and red; >His sister, she whispered, was napping in bed. >She noted each person who lived there with pride; >And she felt the faint stirrings of the wee one inside. > >He noted the sex, the color, the age... >The marks from the quill soon filled up the page. >At the number of children, she nodded her head; >And saw her lips quiver for the three that were dead. > >The places of birth she "never forgot"; >Was it Kansas? or Utah? or Oregon ... or not? >They came from Scotland, of that she was clear; >But she wasn't quite sure just how long they'd been here. > >They spoke of employment, of schooling and such; >They could read some and write some .. though really not much. >When the questions were answered, his job there was done; >So he mounted his horse and he rode toward the sun. > >We can almost imagine his voice loud and clear; >"May God bless you all for another ten years." > >Now picture a time warp ... its' now you and me; >As we search for the people on our family tree. > >We squint at the census and scroll down so slow; >As we search for that entry from long, long ago. >Could they only imagine on that long ago day; >That the entries they made would effect us this way? > >If they knew, would they wonder at the yearning we feel; >And the searching that makes them so increasingly real. >We can hear if we listen the words they impart; >Through their blood in our veins and their voice in our heart. > >Author Unknown >