"These, then, fellow soldiers, are the terms upon which sixty-four of you are requested to draw your swords, shoulder your arms and march to Detroit to defend the frontiers of your own territory. And from these columns are there not more than this small number that would rush upon even certain death at their country's call? "The services required of you will not be arduous--'tis not that you should invade the territory of a distant enemy--'tis not that you should march far from your homes to fight battles in which you are not, and which you do not feel yourselves, interested; but it is to prevent the hostile foot of a foe from invading your territory --it is to guard the sacred altar of your liberties, cemented by the blood of your fathers, from the profanation of a tyrant's polluting touch--it is to guard your dwellings, your friends, your families, your all, from the desolating warfare of a fell savage foe--it is that the midnight and sleeping couch of our infants may not be awakened to death by the tremendous yell of an Indian warwhoop --it is that the gray hairs of our fathers may not become the bloody trophies of a cruel and insidious foe. Cruelty and a thirst for blood are the inmates of an Indian's bosom, and in the neighborhood of two contending powers they are never peaceful. If the strong hand of power does not bend them down they will raise the tomahawk and bare the scalping knife for deeds of blood and horror: The purity of female innocence, the decrepitude of age, the tenderness of infancy afford no security against the murderous steel of a hostile Indian: to guard against the probable incursions of bands of these murderers, I will not call them by the dignified name of warriors, are you called upon to arm: and who in such a cause would refuse to march or to bleed? And who would refuse to protect the scattered settlements on our frontiers--the humble cottage and its peaceful inhabitants?--Who would refuse to guard our fields from desolation, our villages from destruction, or our towns from ruin? --None, in whom there is a spark of patriot valor. "But, fellow soldiers, you may be called upon the meet the legions of Great Britain; every appearance indicates a state of approaching hostilities--year after year has insult been added to insult--injury has followed injury with rapid strides, and every breeze comes laden with its tale of wrongs, and while we have borne their injuries and their insults our government has endeavored, but in vain, to reconcile our differences by amicable negotiation. "The cup of our wrongs is full, and the voice of an indignant people demands redress and revenge by every means in our power; 'tis that voice that calls upon you to arm and meet the hosts of England.