Trail food bags & containers.

Trail Food Bags & Containers.

 "I have travelled with neere 200. of them at once, neere 100. miles through the woods, every man carrying a little Basket of this [Nokehick] at his back, and sometimes in a hollow Leather Girdle about his middle, sufficient for a man three or foure daies. With this readie provision, and their Bow and Arrowes, are they ready for War, and tra∣vell at an houres warning. With a spoonfull of this meale and a spoonfullof water from the Brooke, have I made many a good dinner and supper."

A KEY into the LANGUAGE OF AMERICA By Roger Williams  1643. 
https://quod.lib.umich.edu/e/eebo/A66450.0001.001?rgn=main;view=fulltext

 If their imperious occasions cause them to travell, the best of their victuals for their journey is Nocake, (as they call it) which is nothing but Indian Corne parched in the hot ashes; the ashes being sifted from it, it is afterward beaten to powder, and put into a long leatherne bag, trussed at their backe like a knapsacke; out of which they take thrice three spoonefulls a day, dividing it into three meales. If it be in Winter, and Snow be on the ground, they can eate when they please, stopping Snow after their dusty victuals, which otherwise would feed them little better than a Tiburne halter. In Summer they must stay till they meete with a Spring or Brooke, where they may have water to prevent the imminent danger of choaking. With this strange viaticum they will travell foure or five daies together, with loads fitter for Elephants than men. But though they can fare so hardly abroad, at home their chaps must walke night and day as long as they have it. They keepe no set meales, their store being spent, they champe on the bit, till they meete with fresh supplies, either from their owne endeavours, or their wives industry, who trudge to the Clam-bankes when all other meanes faile. Though they be sometimes scanted, yet are they as free as Emperours, both to their Country-men and English, be he stranger, or neare acquaintance; counting it a great discourtesie, not to eate of their high-conceited delicates, and sup of their un-oat-meal'd broth, made thicke with Fishes, Fowles, and Beasts boyled all together; some remaining raw, the rest converted by over-much seething to a loathed mash, not halfe so good as Irish Boniclapper.

Chap. VI.

Of their dyet, cookery, meale-times, and hospitality at their Kettles.

The Project Gutenberg EBook of New Englands Prospect, by William Wood Wood's New England's Prospects 1634.

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/47082/47082-h/47082-h.htm

The Warriors Cache, 2004. Robert Griffing

The Warriors Cache, 2004. Robert Griffing.

New World Black Indians.

http://realhistoryww.com/world_history/ancient/Misc/Americas/Black_Indians.htm

Of The Traveling Of The Indians. Robert Beverley 1722.

Their travels they perform altogether on foot, the fatigue of which they endure to admiration. They make no other provision for their journey but their gun or bow, to supply them with food for many hundred miles together. If they carry any flesh in their marches, they barbecue it, or rather dry it by degrees, at some distance over the clear coals of a wood fire; just as the Charibees are said to preserve the bodies of their kings and great men from corruption. Their sauce to this dry meat, (if they have any besides a good stomach,) is only a little bear's oil, or oil of acorns; which last they force out by boiling the acorns in a strong lye. Sometimes also in their travels each man takes with him a pint or quart of rockahomonie, that is, the finest Indian corn parched and beaten to powder. When they find their stomach empty, (and cannot stay for the tedious cookery of other things,) they put about a spoonful of this into their mouths and drink a draught of water upon it, which stays their stomachs, and enables them to pursue their journey without delay. But their main dependence is upon the game they kill by the way, and the natural fruits of the earth. They take no care about lodging in these journeys, but content themselves with the shade of a tree or a little high grass.

Robert Beverley 1722.

Gutenberg Files.

An 18th Century Cake?!!! Happy Birthday Da.

First I must apologise for deviating from my normal posts. Personally I hate going to an advertised 18th century site, only to find that the blog is all personal stuff & family & nothing to do with the 18th century (why do they do that?!). However, today is my Birthday, & two of my 3 sons have arrived early with my Birthday cake, & here it is.

How about that! Baked by my youngest son.

I hope you all have as good a day as I intend to have, & Happy Easter to you all.

The Diary of John Gyles, 1689:

The Diary of John Gyles, 1689:



"My honored father took my two eldest brothers and me to a field near the river. We planned to spend the day gathering the harvest. After we had dined at noon, we went again to our labors, some in one field gathering corn, while the others went to a nearby field to gather hay. About one o'clock, we heard shots. My father expressed the hope that they had been fired by British soldiers stationed in the area to protect the inhabitants.


We retreated to our barn where, to our great surprise, 30 or 40 Indians discharged a volley of shot at us from behind rising ground. The whistling of their shot and their horrid howls so terrified me that I tried to run away. My brothers went one way and I ran another.


Looking back, I saw a stout, painted fellow after me with a gun and a cutlass, which any moment, I expected to feel crashing through my brains. I tripped and the Indian came upon me, seizing my left hand. He offered me no abuse, but tied my arm tightly, then lifted me up and led me away. The Indians also captured my brother James, but Thomas, my elder brother, made good his escape across the river.


After doing what mischief they could to the farm, the Indians made us sit with them as they ate; then we were marched eastward a quarter mile, where we halted again, and my father was brought to us.


My father stated he was a dying man and he wanted an opportunity to pray with his children. The Indians called my father a brave man, and allowed his request. Father solemnly recommended us to the protection of God, then he gave us his best advice; and finally, very weakly - he took his leave. He parted with a cheerful voice, but he looked so pale, because of his great loss of blood. The Indians led him aside, then I heard the dull blow of a hatchet, but not a shriek or groan from father."

"We left Meductic and went up the Saint John River about ten miles . . . to where there was a wigwam. At our arrival, an old squaw saluted me with a yell, taking me by the hair and one hand; but I was so rude as to break her hold and free myself. She gave me a filthy grin and the Indians set up a laugh, so the incident was passed over. Here we lived upon fish, wild grapes, roots, berries, etc., for several months."