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the enemy first and crowded them close. Our boys cheered and sprang up to the top as rapidly as they could. One poor fellow was either struck by a ball, or lost his hold, for I heard him falling back among the bushes and rocks below. With a loud cheer, I leaped on the top, and, forming what men had already gained the summit, we charged on the battery of four guns, which Colonel Howe had already captured. When Townshend's division disembarked we had already gained one of the roads to Quebec, and, advancing in front of the forest, formed our lines of battle and awaited the dawn of day to begin the engagement.

Thus, at daybreak, Wolfe with his invincible battalions stood on the plains of Abraham, the battlefield of the Celtic and Saxon races.

In his intrenchments on the other side of the St. Charles, Montcalm heard the news of the approach of the English with amazement.

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It can be but a small party, come to burn a few houses and retire," he said to a subaltern; but on learning more, he cried, "Then they have at last got to the weak side of this miserable garrison; we must give battle and crush them before midday."

Before ten o'clock, the two armies, equal in number, each being composed of less than five thousand men, were ranged in presence of one an

other for battle. The English, not easily accessible from intervening shallow ravines and rail fences, were nearly all regulars, perfect in discipline, terrible in their fearless enthusiasm, thrilling with pride at the morning's progress, commanded by a man whom they obeyed with confidence and love. Montcalm, who had but five weak battalions of less than two thousand French regulars "mingled with disorderly peasantry," formed on commanding ground. The French had three small pieces of artillery, the English had but two, which they had dragged by ropes up the terrible steep during the night. For nearly an hour, the two armies cannonaded each other; when Montcalm, having summoned De Bougainville to his aid, and despatched messenger after messenger for De Vaudreuil, who had fifteen hundred men at the camp, to come up before he should be driven from the ground, endeavored to flank the British and drive them over the high bank of the river. Wolfe counteracted the movement by detaching Townshend with Amherst's regiment, and afterward a part of the royal Americans, who formed the left with a double front.

Despairing of reinforcement, Montcalm led the French army impetuously to the attack. The illdisciplined companies, broken by their precipitation and the unevenness of the ground, fired by

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.

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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.

"The French! They give way everywhere!" the officer answered.

"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

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