“Brothers, as we knew our great father was a true man and honourable, and as we believed he would never break his word, and that he had a strong arm to make it good, we trusted to all he said. We were glad at his words. We let his white children take our lands and our homes in the State of New York, and we took our wives, and our children in our arms, and came across the great lakes to live here on Fox River. We lighted the council-fire, and made peace with our brethren, the Winnebagoes and Menomenies. We gave them money for lands. They said, they were glad to see us, and to have us come and live among them—and that we would all be one people. They promised to leave hunting and fishing, and raise corn like us, and that their women should spin like our women—and that we would become as good and as great as white men. We were all agreed—and we were all very glad.
“Brothers, we did not think our great father, President Monroe, would die so soon—or that another would come in his place to forget what he had promised. We did not think, that our great father had so many papers in his table-drawer, that he could not find the one, on which his agreement with us was written.
“You see, brothers, the white man is here—he has brought strong water to sell to our people, to the Menomenies, to the Winnebagoes, and to the Chippeways, to get them drunk, and make them quarrel. The Indian is good for nothing, when he can get strong water. It makes him mad. He will not work—he will whip his wife, and his child,—and perhaps kill one, to be sorry for it the next day, when he cannot help it. Strong water makes him quarrel with his neighbour, and they kill one another. There is no peace, when the Indian can get strong water—but all things go badly. Our great father the President, said—that the white man should never come here, and sell our people strong water.
“Brothers, you see the white people have come here to live—a great many. And they tell us, that they will stay—and that more will come—and that they will have our lands—and that we must go beyond the Mississippi. All this makes us very sorry.
“We lived in peace with the Winnebagoes and Menomenies, and with all the tribes of the North-West. Our council-fire burnt well, and did not go out. But, while we sat in peace around it, and smoked the pipe of friendship with our brethren—the white man came in, and threw a big stone against the fire, and scattered the brands among our feet, and knocked them upon our blankets—and cried out: It is no peace—it is war;—so that we could not stay. We run home, and our hearts were very sorry; and there has been no peace since. The white man will not let us speak peace to our brethren. He tells our brethren, that we are their enemies—that we came here only to get away their country—and to drive them off; and that if they will get back the lands, which they sold to us, they can sell them again to the whites, and get pay for them a second time; and that the whites will give a great deal more money, than we gave. Three years ago (1827) they received a great bag of money from the city of Washington to buy these very lands on Fox River, which they once sold to us. We do not know for what good reason this money was given them. We are afraid.
“Brothers, I need not say much. We have put in writing what we think. It has just been read to you, and is now in your hand. We wish you to think on what is written in that paper. We wish you to carry that paper to our great father, the President—and shake hands with him for us, and ask him to read and think of it. We wish it to be read before the chiefs of the great nation, who stand around the fire of the great council-house, at the city of Washington—that they may think of it.
“Brothers, there is no longer peace between us and our brethren here. We cannot speak with them. They do not come and see us—and we cannot go and see them. The white man stands between us and keeps us apart. We say one thing, and they say another thing. We no longer smoke the pipe together. We desire you to ask our great father to take away his white children, and when they are gone, we shall do well enough.
“We need not tell you, brothers, to shut your ears against the words of the white men, who have come up here, and who want our lands. We have been made very sorry to hear what they say.
“Brothers, we look to you—we look to our great father, the President—we look to the chiefs of the great nation: we ask only for the performance of their agreement. While you have that paper, you know our mind. We shall wait with great desire to know the answer of our great father and of the chiefs at Washington.
“I have no more to say.”