In Tendering A Welcome To Mr. Frechette, Our
Honoured Guest, I Can Add But Little To The Sentiments Conveyed In
The
resolution adopted at our last meeting and which you have heard read.
In presence of so many distinguished persons,
Several of whom have
made their mark, at the Bar - or on the Bench - the forum - in
literature - in the bank parlor or in the counting house, - with so many
fluent speakers here present and prepared to applaud, with all the
graces of oratory and fervour of patriotism, - the distinction
conferred on French Canada, by the highest literary tribunal in
France - convinced myself of the honour which Mr. Frechette's laurels
must confer on this ancient and picturesque Province of Quebec, with
its glorious though yet unrevealed destinies, I feel proud as a
Canadian in standing here, the bearer even of a solitary rosebud for
the fragrant bouquet, which a grateful country offers this
night to its gifted child. Alas! had not the relentless hand [32] of
death - had not a self-imposed fate, darker even than death, removed
from our midst, another "mind pregnant with celestial fire," Canada
this night might possibly have counted two laurel-crowned poets - Louis
Honore Frechette and Octave Cremazie. For I am not one of those who
refuse to recognize Canadian talent; on the contrary, I feel myself
moved to rejoice in our wealth of intellect. I am reminded to be
brief; around me there is a surging stream of eloquence ready to burst
through its floodgates.
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