If you'd rather place an order by talking to one of our cheerful order desk clerks, please call 1-888-232-4444 (USA and Canada only) or 250-383-6864. From Europe, ring our UK order desk clerk at local rate number 0845 230 9601 (UK only) or 44 (0)1865 722 113.

Limbs

by Lewis B. Chisholm

209 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-0883; ISBN 1-55395-169-7; US$26.00, C$29.95, EUR21.50, £15.00

It is with great sensitivity, insightfulness,and humour that Lewis B. Chisholm builds a monument to his vast Scottish and Irish family in a comprehensive tale that spans four generations.

Read more!

about the book      about the author      excerpt      catalogue info

About the Book It is with great sensitivity, insightfulness, and humour that Lewis B. Chisholm builds a monument to his vast Scottish and Irish family in a comprehensive 260 page tale which spans four generations. The story blazes through the decades; from the journey across the Atlantic from Strathglass to Nova Scotia, and the daily lives of the New Settlers -- 'A huge stone fireplace gave the family light and warmth, and it was also where Margaret cooked in heavy iron pots.' to Mama and Papa's courtship-- 'They attended dances where Annie Jane played the fiddle for extra money' to the large family they produced-- through sadness-- 'Edward had been killed in action. It was the first time we saw Papa cry as he headed to the woods, and as for Mama; she headed straight to St Ninian's Cathedral in Antigonish to pray for the soul of her dead son.' and joy-- 'When spring returned in 1939, so did our mother. The wagon creaked to a stop outside the house and off she hopped, her arms chock-a-block with parcels, and her purse clinking with money.'

---

From the Author 'You can take the boy out of the farm, but you can't take farm out of the boy.' My heart keeps wandering back to the farm in Nova Scotia, The New Scotland, where two hundred years of my Chisholm family history are rooted; years of rural life, years of strife and triumph, years that my generation, through the writing of this book, hereby share with their descendants, and all those who may ask, 'Where do I fit into this vast, proud family?' As one harvests the crop, I have gathered all my ancestral voices together, and given them life and permanence. May they live forever.

---

Excerpt

SURVIVING THE CROSSING
Journey to the New World

    In 1801 John and Mary Chisholm and their son, William, set sail from Fort William, Inverness-shire, Scotland. It is believed that they travelled aboard the Nora, a thirty metre wooden sailing ship. About five hundred anxious souls crowded on board the vessel with only one thing to depend on- the wind. The Nora was one of many ships that carried the Highlanders to the New World, and as the clan chief stood on the dock and bade a silent farewell, imagine how he felt as he watched his ancient clan organization slipping away into the thick grey mist.
    The journey was supposed to take about four weeks, but instead it took sixteen, sixteen rolling weeks of storms and counter winds. Food ran out, and cholera, dysentery and measles moved in. And then came the most terrible Minister of Death- smallpox. Even though the deadly disease brushed past young William, it stopped to claim about sixty other children during the voyage. As parents watched the small bodies slip beneath the waves to their watery graves, did they regret leaving their homeland, Scotland?
     Imagine how relieved John and Mary felt as they stepped off the Nora when she finally docked in Pictou Harbour, known as The Birthplace of Nova Scotia. They must have thanked the Lord that they had survived the crossing, because not only did some seafarers toss their disease-ridden loved ones to the sweet thereunder, many ships crushed by storms sent their entire human cargo to the ocean floor to join them. The newcomers were herded into the woods where they lived in tents for six weeks, because none of the locals wanted the fatal diseases that they had brought with them.
     The Highlanders looked out into the tall surrounding trees. Where was the sunlight? Where were the glowing purple moors and the calming silver mountains? The only time the Highlanders felt hopeful was when the priest visited them occasionally to reaffirm their faith.
     After the quarantine they were free to go. Go where? 'This land-' they sighed, 'how in God's name are we going to farm it?'
     The Highlanders earned the reputation of being strong, hard-working and jovial, and although the summer's heat burned their skin and the winter's cold froze their bones, my great great grandparents, John and Mary Chisholm, set out to explore the surrounding area until they eventually found a suitable spot to build a homestead.
     When John and Mary's son, William, reached manhood, he set out to build his own homestead. He found a new young bride, Margaret MacLean, and in 1827 the young newlyweds beamed with pride when their son, my grandfather, John William Chisholm, was born. My Chisholm roots were now firmly planted in the New World across the Atlantic.

---

Catalogue Information

---