The unlettered Tecumseh well knew the wrongs of the red men when he endeavoured, several years before the war, to induce the Osages to unite in a general Indian confederacy against the continued encroachments of the Americans, and gave extemporaneous utterance before a large assemblage to the following simple but faithful narration of their grievances.  The harangue, eloquent as it is, suffers under all the disadvantages of translation, and is but the shadow of the substance, because the gestures, and the interests and feelings excited by the occasion, which constitute the essentials of its character, are altogether wanting.

Brothers,—­We all belong to one family; we are all children of the Great Spirit; we walk in the same path; slake our thirst at the same spring; and now affairs of the greatest concern lead us to smoke the pipe around the same council fire!

Brothers,—­We are friends; we must assist each other to bear our burdens.  The blood of many of our fathers and brothers has run like water on the ground, to satisfy the avarice of the white men.  We, ourselves, are threatened with a great evil; nothing will pacify them but the destruction of all the red men.

Brothers,—­When the white men first set foot on our grounds, they were hungry; they had no place on which to spread their blankets, or to kindle their fires.  They were feeble; they could do nothing for themselves.  Our fathers commiserated their distress, and shared freely with them whatever the Great Spirit had given his red children.  They gave them food when hungry, medicine when sick, spread skins for them to sleep on, and gave them grounds, that they might hunt and raise corn.—­Brothers, the white people are like poisonous serpents:  when chilled, they are feeble and harmless; but invigorate them with warmth, and they sting their benefactors to death.

The white people came among us feeble; and now that we have made them strong, they wish to kill us, or drive us back, as they would wolves and panthers.  Brothers,—­The white men are not friends to the Indians:  at first, they only asked for land sufficient for a wigwam; now, nothing will satisfy them but the whole of our hunting grounds, from the rising to the setting sun.

    Brothers,—­The white men want more than our hunting grounds;
    they wish to kill our old men, women, and little ones.

Brothers,—­Many winters ago, there was no land; the sun did not rise and set; all was darkness.  The Great Spirit made all things.  He gave the white people a home beyond the great waters.  He supplied these grounds with game, and gave them to his red children; and he gave them strength and courage to defend them.

    Brothers,—­My people wish for peace; the red men all wish for
    peace; but where the white people are, there is no peace for
    them, except it be on the bosom of our mother.