The
Big Warrior and the leading men were sitting there. The Shawnee chief
sounded his war-whoop,--a most diabolical yell, and each of his
followers responded. Tecumseh then presented to the Big Warrior a wampum
belt of five different-colored stands, which the Creek chief handed to
his warriors, and it was passed down the line. The Shawnee pipe was then
produced; it was large, long, and profusely decorated with shells,
beads, and painted eagle and porcupine quills. It was lighted from the
fire in the centre, and slowly passed from the Big Warrior along the
line. All this time not a word had been uttered; every thing was still
as death; even the winds slept, and there was only the gentle rustle of
the falling leaves. At length Tecumseh spoke, at first slowly, and in
sonorous tones, but soon he grew impassioned, and the words fell in
avalanches from his lips. His eyes burned with supernatural lustre, and
his whole frame trembled with emotion; his voice resounded over the
multitude,--now sinking in low and musical whispers, now rising to its
highest key, hurling out his words like a succession of thunderbolts.
His countenance varied with his speech; its prevalent expression was a
sneer of hatred and defiance; sometimes a murderous smile; for a brief
interval a sentiment of profound sorrow pervaded it; and at the close, a
look of concentrated vengeance, such, I suppose, as distinguishes the
arch-enemy of mankind, 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 his face.
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