For a short time the potentates of several little nations, which had barely inhabitants enough to hang a name upon, cased their own importance by speaking. The Delaware warrior Sou-wah-nock then rose. He spoke of the destruction of the Grand Pawnee village. He did not deny his agency in the deed. “The Pawnees,” said he, “met my young men upon the hunt, and slew them. I have had my revenge. Let them look at their town. I found it filled with lodges: I left it a heap of ashes.” The whole of his speech was of the same bold, unflinching character, and was closed in true Indian style. “I am satisfied,” said he, “I am not afraid to avow the deeds that I have done, for I am Sou-wah-nock, a Delaware warrior.” When he had finished, he presented a string of wampum to the Wild Horse, as being the most distinguished warrior of the Pawnee nation. When the slight bustle of giving, and receiving the present, had been finished, the chief of the Republican village rose to answer his warrior enemy. His speech abounded with those wild bursts of eloquence, which peculiarly mark the savages of North America, and concluded in a manner, which spoke highly of his opinion of what a warrior should be. “I have promised to the Delawares,” said he, “the friendship of my tribe. I respect my promise, and I cannot lie, for I am a Pawnee chief.” When the Delawares had spoken, our little fat friend from the Shawnee village rose. After frequent expectorations, he at length succeeded in clearing a passage for the escape of his voice. He contrived with great difficulty to wheeze through a speech of about ten minutes in length. There appeared to be but two ideas in the whole of the address; and when he had thoroughly belaboured one, he most assiduously returned to the other. After repeating them again and again, with the addition of a new dress for each time, he seated himself, perfectly convinced that he had thrown a great deal of light upon the subject. There was a strange contrast between the deportment of the civilized, and savage Indians. The first, from long intercourse with the whites, had acquired many of their habits. Their iron gravity had yielded to a more mercurial temperament. Even in the midst of the council they gave free vent to their merriment, and uttered their gibes and jests. They were constantly on the move, coming and going to and from the place of assembly, and paying but little heed to the deliberations. The Pawnees sat unmoved, listening in silence and with profound attention, to the addresses of those who spoke. They rarely uttered a word, and the only smile which curled their lips, was one of scorn at the frivolous deportment of their enemies. From early in the morning, till near sunset, the council continued. They then adjourned until the following day; in order that a few little potentates, who considered themselves the luminaries of their respective villages, might receive an opportunity to display their eloquence.