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Updated: May 9, 2025
Then the tinman comed along, driving his cart, and I run close to the side of the road to look, as I always does when anybody goes by. So he told me to come into his cart, and he would give me a tin mug to put my huckle-berries in, and I might chuse it myself, and it would hold them a heap better than my old Indian basket.
But how did this man get hold of thee, if thy father and mother are free people? Thee can't be bound to him, or he need not hide thee. Dinah. Oh, I know, I ain't bounded to him; I expect he stole me. Amy. Stole thee! What, here in the free state of Pennsylvania? Dinah. I was out picking huckle-berries in the woods up the roads, and I strayed off a big piece from home.
Sometimes the wild breed with the tame ones, which, they reckon, makes them very hardy, as I believe it must. They feed on Acorns, Huckle-Berries, and many other sorts of Berries that Carolina affords. Some Indians have brought these wild Breed hatch'd at home, to be a Decoy to bring others to roost near their Cabins, which they have shot. But to return to the Water-Fowl.
The huckle-berries were ripening too, and soon afforded them a never-failing source of food; there were also an abundance of bilberries, the sweet rich berries of which proved a great treat, besides being very nourishing. "Oh for a lodge in the vast wilderness, The boundless contiguity of shade!"
So I was very glad, and he lifted me up into the cart; and I choosed the very best and biggest tin mug he had, and emptied my huckle-berries into it. And then he told me he'd give me a ride in his cart, and then he set me far back on a box, and he whipped his creatur, and druv, and druv, and jolted me so, I tumbled all down among the tins.
Neikirk's mother said that: "Once my mother and I were out in the woods picking huckle-berries and heard a noise as of someone moaning in pain. We kept going toward the sound and finally came to a little brook. Near the water was a negro woman with her head bent over to the ground and weeping as if her heart was broken.
In the vicinity of the towns, sometimes a regular battue takes place, when all kind of firearms are in requisition, from the old Tower musket to the celebrated Joe Manton. In July, the pigeons feed a great deal on wild berries, such as raspberries, huckle-berries, blue-berries, and a variety of other kinds.
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