22 A Bridge To The Past

Webster Rogers, in verse six of his poem writes:

And there were wives and mothers, too, Brave, patient, tender, kind—- Whose hands were full, whose hearts were true, Though crude perchance the mind; To deftly whirl the droning wheel And on the antique, skeining reel, The homespun product wind, To cook, to sew, such was their boast And who shall say, ‘twas labor lost.

For the most part they were content and as they grew older were allot- ted a favorite spot and usually a cushioned rocking chair. These old grand- parents, in the homes of sixty years ago, were precious commodities, sharing their wealth of knowledge gained in the school of life with the youngsters in the home without the competition of a blaring television set. Even from their rocking chairs, while the family activities went on all around them, they emanated the same measure of contentment that had been an integral part of their lives. It remained with them while they spent their final days in the place they loved the most, their hundred acre farm in Wilmot Valley.

THROUGH THE EYE OF THE CENSUS TAKER

When the census taker came walking along the Blueshank Road in 1861 he did not always meet with complete acceptance in the homes he visited. This government man with his leather satchel, the long sheets of paper so carefully marked off in little columns and the careful accounting with his scratchy pen, aroused a bit of suspicion. Why was he asking all these questions? In an age when the land question was a growing concern to many people how could they bare their hearts and reveal their progress and their possessions to this compiler of household data?

The census taker’s job was to record the name of the head of each family, stating his trade, profession or occupation, while his spouse his children and others in the household were counted and arranged in six age categories. This meant that the wife and mother who played such an impor- tant role in pioneer days was acknowledged by a simple check mark under “female”. Although this took place in an age of male supremacy this census taker must surely have felt some regret and a wish that he could record for posterity the name of this kindly housewife, who even as he spread his papers on her kitchen table was pouring a cup of hot tea and placing a plate of freshly baked bannock in front of him.

His visits with the people in their homes gave him a real insight into their living conditions; their poverty or their wealth, their achievements and