Of all the conspicuous figures of these memorable times, which already seem so far away from Canadians of the present day, who possess so many political rights, there are several who stand out more prominently than all others, and represent the distinct types of politicians, who influenced the public mind during the first half of the nineteenth century, when responsible government was in slow process of evolution from the political struggles which arose in the operation of representative institutions. Around the figure of Louis Joseph Papineau there has always been a sort of glamour which has helped to conceal his vanity, his rashness and his want of political sagacity, which would, under any circumstances, have prevented his success as a safe statesman, capable of guiding a people through a trying ordeal. His eloquence was fervid and had much influence over his impulsive countrymen, his sincerity was undoubted, and in all likelihood his very indiscretions made more palpable the defects of the political system against which he so persistently and so often justly declaimed. He lived to see his countrymen enjoy power and influence under the very union which they resented, and to find himself no longer a leader among men, but isolated from a great majority of his own people, and representing a past whose methods were antagonistic to the new régime that had grown up since 1838. It would have been well for his reputation had he remained in obscurity on his return from exile in 1847, when he and other rebels of 1837 were wisely pardoned, and had he never stood again on the floor of the parliament of Canada, as he did from 1848 until 1854, since he could only prove, in those later times, that he had never understood the true working of responsible government. While the Lafontaine-Baldwin ministry were in power, he revived an agitation for an elective legislative council and declared himself utterly hostile to responsible government; but his influence was at an end in the country, and he could make little impression on the assembly. The days of reckless agitation had passed, and the time for astute and calm statesmanship had come. Lafontaine and Morin were now safer political guides for his countrymen. He soon disappeared entirely from public view, and in the solitude of his picturesque château, amid the groves that overhang the Ottawa River, only visited from time to time by a few staunch friends, or by curious tourists who found their way to that quiet spot, he passed the remainder of his days with a tranquillity in wondrous contrast to the stormy and eventful drama of his life. The writer often saw his noble, dignified figure--erect even in age--passing unnoticed on the streets of Ottawa, when perhaps at the same time there were strangers, walking through the lobbies of the parliament house, asking for his portrait.