"At the battle of the Rapids, last war, the Americans certainly defeated us; and when we returned to our father's fort, at that place the gates were shut against us. We were afraid that it would now be the case; but instead of that, we now see our British father preparing to march out of his garrison. "Father!--You have got the arms and ammunition which our great father sent for his red children. If you have an idea of going away, give them to us, and you may go and welcome for us. Our lives are in the hands of the Great Spirit. We are determined to defend our lands, and if it be his will, we wish to leave our bones upon them." This celebrated speech is probably as good a specimen as any on record, of the eloquence of Tecumseh. It was a natural eloquence, characteristic, as all natural eloquence must be, of the qualities of the man. As Charlevoix says of the Canadian savages, it was "such as the Greeks admired in the barbarians,"--strong, stern, sententious, pointed, perfectly undisguised. It abounded with figures and with graphic touches, imprinted by a single effort of memory or imagination, but answering all the purposes of detailed description, without its tediousness or its weakness. The President was "drinking his wine in his town," while Tecumseh and Harrison were fighting it out over the mountains. The Indians were hallooed upon the Americans, like a pack of starved hounds. The British nation was our great Father, and our great Father was laid flat on his back. So the policy of the United States, in extending their settlements, was a mighty water, and the scheme of common property in the tribes, was a dam to resist it. [FN] * * * * * [FN] McAfee's History, p. 17. Tecumseh belonged to a nation "noted," as Mr. Heckewelder describes them, "for much talk," as well as for hard fighting; and he was himself never at a loss for words, though he used them with a chariness which might be imitated without disadvantage by some of our modern orators. It was only when he spoke for the explanation or vindication of that great cause to which his whole heart and mind were devoted, that he indulged himself in any thing beyond the laconic language of necessity. His appearance was always noble--his form symmetrical--his carriage erect and lofty--his motions commanding--but under the excitement of his favorite theme, he became a new being. The artifice of the politician, the diffidence of the stranger, the demure dignity of the warrior, were cast aside like a cloak. His fine countenance lighted up with a fiery and haughty pride. His frame swelled with emotion. Every posture and every gesture had its eloquent meaning. And then language, indeed,--the irrepressible outbreaking of nature,--flowed glowing from the passion-fountains of the soul.