platoons, without unity. Their adversaries, especially the forty-third and forty-seventh, where Moncton stood, of which three men out of every four were Americans, received the shock with calmness, and, after having, at Wolfe's command, reserved their fire till their enemy was within forty yards, their line began a regular, rapid, and exact discharge of musketry. Montcalm saw the danger which threatened his army, and was everywhere cheering his men by example, although the blood flowed from a wound he had received. The second in command, De Sennesergues, an associate in the glory at Ticonderoga, was killed. The brave but untried Canadians, flinching from so hot a fire in the open field, began to waver; and Wolfe, seeing this, placed himself at the head of the twenty-eighth and the Louisburg grenadiers and charged with bayonets. Though the enemy everywhere gave way, this proved a fatal charge. Of the English officers, Carleton was wounded and Barre, who fought near Wolfe, received a ball in the head, which destroyed one eye and ultimately both. Wolfe, who led the charge, was wounded in the wrist; but, still pressing forward, he received a second shot more serious; and just as the battle was decided by the utter rout of the enemy a third bullet struck him in the breast.

Support me!" he cried to an officer near him;

"let not my brave fellows see me drop!" He was carried to the rear and given a drink of water to quench his burning thirst.

"They run they run!" cried the officer on whom the dying general leaned.

"Who run?" Wolfe asked, as his life-blood ebbed rapidly away.

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The French!

the officer answered.

They give way everywhere!"

"What?" cried the expiring hero, breathing with difficulty, "do they run already? Go, one of you, to Colonel Burton; bid him march Webb's regiment with all speed to Charles River to cut off the fugitives. Then, fixing his expiring eyes on the officer who supported his head on his knee, he exclaimed, "Now, God be praised, I die happy!” His eyes closed, his breathing ceased, and his chin fell; General Wolfe was dead.

Night, silence, the rushing tide, veteran discipline, the sure inspiration of genius, all had been his allies. High above the ocean river, his battlefield was the grandest stage for the performance of illustrious deeds. His victory, one of the most momentous in the annals of mankind, gave to the English tongue and the institutions of the Germanic race unexplored and seemingly infinite regions west and north. Into a few hours' action, he had crowded that which would have given lustre

to the length of life; and filling his day with greatness completed it before its noon.

Moncton was shot through the lungs and Townshend, next in command, recalled the troops from the pursuit; and, when De Bougainville appeared in view, declined a contest with a French enemy. But the hope of New France was already gone. Montcalm, the hope and mainstay of the French, while fighting before Moncton, and seeking to encourage his dispirited soldiers by personal example, was struck by a musket ball and mortally wounded. He was carried to the rear, where a surgeon, examining the wound, said he could not live.

"I am glad of it," he cried. How long shall I survive?"

"Ten or twelve hours, perhaps less.

"So much the better; I shall not live to see the surrender of Quebec."

A council of war was summoned about the dying general, and to these he showed that in twelve hours all the troops near at hand might be concentrated to renew the attack before the English were intrenched. When De Ramsay, who commanded the garrison, asked his advice about defending the city, he answered:

"To your keeping I commend the honor of France. As for me, I shall pass the night with God, and prepare myself for death."