unhappy period of his life, when he proved so firm, courageous and
far-sighted. In well chosen language--always characteristic of his
public addresses--he spoke of the cordial reception he had met with,
when he arrived a stranger in Montreal, of the beauty of its
surroundings, of the kind attention with which its citizens had on
more than one occasion listened to the advice he gave to their various
associations, of the undaunted courage with which the merchants had
promoted the construction of that great road which was so necessary to
the industrial development of the province, of the patriotic energy
which first gathered together such noble specimens of Canadian
industry from all parts of the country, and had been the means of
making the great World's Fair so serviceable to Canada; and then as he
recalled the pleasing incidents of the past, there came to his mind a
thought of the scenes of 1849, but the sole reference he allowed
himself was this: "And I shall forget--but no, what I might have to
forget is forgotten already, and therefore I cannot tell you what I
shall forget."

The last speech which he delivered in the picturesque city of Quebec
gave such eloquent expression to the feelings with which he left
Canada, is such an admirable example of the oratory with which he so
often charmed large assemblages, that I give it below in full for the
perusal of Canadians of the present day who had not the advantage of
hearing him in the prime of his life.

"I wish I could address you in such strains as I have sometimes
employed on similar occasions--strains suited to a festive meeting;
but I confess I have a weight on my heart and it is not in me to be
merry. For the last time I stand before you in the official character
which I have borne for nearly eight years. For the last time I am