“Brothers and Friends:—When our forefathers first met on this great Island, your red brethren were very numerous! But since the introduction among us of what you call spirituous liquors, and what we think may justly be called poison, our numbers are greatly diminished. It has destroyed a great part of your red brethren.
“My Brothers and Friends:—We plainly perceive, that you see the very evil which destroyed your red brethren; it is not an evil of our own making; we have not placed it among ourselves; it is an evil placed among us by the white people; we look to them to remove it out of our country. We tell them, ’Brethren, bring us useful things; bring goods that will clothe us, our women and our children; and not this evil liquor, that destroys our reason, that destroys our health, and destroys our lives.’ But all we can say on this subject is of no service, nor gives relief to your red brethren.
“My Brother and Friends:—I rejoice to find that you agree in opinion with us, and express an anxiety to be, if possible, of service to us, in removing this great evil out of our country; an evil which has had so much room in it; and has destroyed so many of our lives, that it causes our young men to say, ’we had better be at war with the white people.’ This liquor, which they introduce into our country, is more to be feared than the gun and the tomahawk. There are more of us dead, since the treaty of Greenville, than we lost by the six years war before. It is all owing to the introduction of this liquor amongst us.
“Brothers:—When our young men have been out hunting, and are returning home, loaded with skins and furs, on their way if it happens that they come along where some of this whiskey is deposited, the white man who sells it, tells them to take a little drink; some of them will say ‘no, I do not want it;’ they go on till they come to another house, where they find more of the same kind of drink; it is there offered again; they refuse; and again the third time. But finally, the fourth or fifth time, one accepts of it and takes a drink; and getting one, he wants another; and then a third, and a fourth, till his senses have left him. After his reason comes back to him again, when he gets up and finds where he is, he asks for his peltry. The answer is, ‘You have drank them,’ ‘Where is my gun?’ ‘It is gone?’ ’Where is my blanket?’ ‘It is gone.’ ‘Where is my shirt?’ ’You have sold it for whiskey!!’ Now, Brothers, figure to yourselves, the condition of this man. He has a family at home; a wife and children, who stand in need of the profits of his hunting. What must be their wants, when he himself is even without a shirt?”
The journey of Elisha Tyson and his companion, James Gillingham, occurred a few years subsequent to the interview at which the preceding speech was made. They met a council of the Indians at Fort Wayne, whom Elisha Tyson addressed to the following effect: