te man
shall say to his children--'Here once lived a people called the
Onondagas. They once were the bravest of all the tribes of the land,
but they became the most feeble and cowardly. It was the cunning of
whites which wrought their ruin. We gave them strong waters--they
tasted the poison--they loved it--and lo! we dwell upon their ashes.'"

Brothers, a sudden blast of wind shook the branches of the trees, a
black cloud overspread the plain, and, although every eye seemed fixed
upon the place where Tekarrah had stood, yet he was gone. He had come
and vanished like one of those fiery balls that we see on a summer's
evening, travelling in the misty valleys.

Brothers, we returned to our cabins, and pondered upon his words. They
sunk deep into our hearts, and our tribe profited by the warning. We
forsook all trade with the white men, and forgot their tongue. We
threw away the rifle which was heard no more in our woods, and made
the bow and arrow, and the tomahawk, and the war-club, again our
weapons. Again we were clothed with the skins of the animals we slew
in the chace, and the meat we killed in the woods was applied as it
should be, to feed our young ones. The snows of more than thirty
winters have whitened our valley, since we have abstained from the
strong waters of the pale-faces. Our nation have since grown like the
oak, firm and strong-rooted, and the Oneidas dare no longer kindle
their fires on our border. Our warriors have hearts as stout as our
fathers in the olden time; our runners outstrip the wild cat for
agility, and the roebuck for speed. Our people linger no more round
the settlement at Oswego, but are happy and contented in the deep
shades of the forest, with the coarse but healthy enjoyments of Indian
life. The Great Spirit again smiles upon his children, and they smoke
in the calumet of peace. Our tribe is strong and warlike, in the full
vigour of health, while the red men of other nations are perishing
around us.

Brothers, hear me, for I am old, and your fathers were wont to hear
the council of the elders. Remember the tale of Wonnehush; he tells
you no lie. Carry his words to your tribes, and let the warning of
Tekarrah be heard in every wigwam beyond the mountains.

* * * * *

Much has been said and written of the eloquence of the Indians, but it
all conveys a very imperfect and inadequate idea of the beauty and
excellence of their orations. They are untransla