The most remarkable passage in this graphic narration, refers to the exertions Tecumseh was now making for the promotion of the great cause which lay so near his heart. There was occasion indeed for a mighty effort, to regain the ground which his brother had lost. The battle of Tippecanoe was a premature explosion, and a most unfortunate one for his interests. It intercepted the negotiations for new allies, diminished the moral power of the Prophet, and frightened and forced many, who were or would have been his adherents, into neutrality in some cases, and open hostility in others. The vast scheme of Tecumseh, the object so long of all his solicitude and his labor, was thrown into confusion, on the very brink of success. He was exasperated, humiliated, afflicted. He could have wept, like Philip, when _his_ projects were thwarted in mid career by the rashness of his warriors. But here was the trial of his noblest qualities. He came forward and made every proposition, looking like compromise, which he deemed consistent with his dignity,--perhaps necessary to it,--but in vain. He saw then, plainly, that the battle must be fought, and his soul grew strong. The wrongs and woes of his race, and the power and pride of the white men, passed before him. The mortification of failure and exposure on his own part, the dishonor brought upon his brother's name, the ignominy of submission, the censure and scorn of his savage rivals, the triumph of his civilized enemy, all were daggers in his bosom. Then boiled within him the frenzy of despair. Fear and hope struggled for the mastery. Pride, revenge, ambition, were roused. "Let them come, then"--thought he--"I hear them and see them, in the South and in the East, like the summer leaves rolling and rustling in the breeze. It is well. Shall Tecumseh tremble? Shall they say that he hated the white man, and feared him? No! The mountains and plains which the Great Spirit gave, are behind and around me. I, too, have my warriors, and here,--where we were born and where we will die,--on the Scioto, on the Wabash, on the broad waters of the North, my voice shall be heard."