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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.

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"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."

Having written a letter recommending the French prisoners to the generosity of the English, his last hours were given to the offices of religion, and, at five o'clock next morning, he expired.

Before the English batteries were planted, De Ramsay, acting on the advice of De Vaudreuil, capitulated, and thus England came into possession of the key to Canada, which she has held ever since.

Montcalm was buried in the grounds of the Ursuline Convent at Quebec. In its chapel a mural tablet commemorates him. Mr. Lossing says: "There I saw, a few years ago, the skull of that French commander, its base covered with a blue velvet and gold-laced military collar." The re

mains of General Wolfe were removed to England, and his grateful government erected a monument to his memory in Westminster Abbey. Nearly seventy years after the capture of Quebec, an English governor of Canada caused a noble granite obelisk to be reared in the city of Quebec and dedicated

"To the memory of Wolfe and Montcalm."

CHAPTER XIX.

REUNITED.

though both

Not equal, as their sex not equal seemed;
For contemplation he had valor formed;
For softness she had sweet attractive grace;
He for God only, she for God in him.

-MILTON.

THE expulsion of the Acadians from their native soil has furnished themes for some of the tenderest stories and sweetest poems in the English language. The romancer need not cudgel his brain to conjure up some ambitious tale of woe to enlist the sympathy of his hearers; there are enough threads of truth in the lamentable history, from which the romancer may weave his most thrilling story, and the poet sing his sweetest song. No story told of those suffering people is more sad than that of Jean Baptiste De Barre. Never was lover more devoted to the object of his affection. Soon after landing

at New York, and before he was fully recovered from the blow dealt him from the stock of the soldier's musket, he set out on his wanderings.

At times he was almost insane from the effect of the blow, and had attacks of epilepsy at intervals as long as he lived. His afflictions never for a moment prevented his searching everywhere, to the St. Lawrence, then to Acadia, back to Pennsylvania and again to Acadia, hoping against hope, that he yet might find the being from whom he was separated. He braved a thousand perils, defied cold and heat and, carrying his life in his hands, wandered hither and thither up and down the land searching for the lost one.

While the roar of battle went up from the airy heights of the plains of Abraham, he stood across the stream and gazing on the scene, said:

"Will he survive the conflict? Then I must search again alone."

At last the battle ceased.

Will he fall?

Then a hush of death came over the scene, and but for the fact that he saw figures moving about on that vast elevated plain, he might have thought all dead. He waited three or four days in the forest, where he could overlook the town and battlefield, and from this post of observation saw the French flag come down forever from over Quebec, and the English colors take its place to wave, no one knows, as yet, how long.

"Will he come?" asked Jean, his face pale as death and his lips blue.

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