"I have heard many great orators, but I never saw one with the vocal powers of Tecumseh, or the same command of the muscles of the face. Had I been deaf, the play of his countenance would have told me what he said. Its effect on that wild, untutored, superstitious, and warlike assemblage, may be conceived: not a word was said, but stern warriors, the 'stoics of the wood,' shook with emotion, and a thousand tomahawks were brandished in the air. Even the big warrior, who had been true to the whites, and remained faithful during the war, was, for the moment, visibly affected, and more than once I saw his huge hand clutch, spasmodically the handle of his knife." But, to the speech: "In defiance of the white warriors of Ohio and Kentucky, I have traveled through their settlements, once our favorite hunting-grounds. No war-whoop was sounded, but there is blood upon our knives The pale-faces felt the blow, but knew not whence it came. "Accursed be the race that has seized on our country and made women of our warriors. Our fathers, from their tombs, reproach us as slaves and cowards. I hear them now in the wailing winds. "The Muscogee was once a mighty people. The Georgians trembled at your war-whoop, and the maidens of my tribe, on the distant lakes, sung the prowess of your warriors, and sighed for their embraces. "Now, your very blood is white; your tomahawks have no edges; your bows and arrows were buried with your fathers. Oh! Muscogees, brethren of my mother, brush from your eyelids the sleep of slavery; once more strike for vengeance—once more for your country. The spirits of the mighty dead complain. Their tears drop from the skies. Let the white man perish. "They seize your land; they corrupt your women; they trample on the ashes of your dead. Back, whence they came, upon a trail of blood, must they be driven. "Back! back, ay, into the great waters whose accursed waves brought them to our shores. "Burn their dwellings! destroy their stock! Slay their wives and children! The red-man owns the country, and the pale-face must never enjoy it. "War! war! War forever! War upon the living! War upon the dead! Dig their very corpses from the grave. _Our_ country must give no rest to a white man's bones. "This is the will of the Great Spirit, revealed to my brother, his familiar, the Prophet of the Lakes. He sends me to you. "All the tribes of the North are dancing the war-dance. Two mighty warriors across the seas will send us arms. "Tecumseh will soon return to his country. My prophets shall tarry with you. They will stand between you and the bullets of your enemies. When the white men approach you, the yawning earth shall swallow them up. "Soon shall you see my arm of fire stretched athwart the sky. I will stamp my foot at Tippecanoe, and the very earth shall shake."