[1759. Sept. 282 57 ]

Wolfe was everywhere.
How cool he was, and why his follow-
ers loved him, is shown by an incident
that happened in the course of the morning.
One of his captains was shot through the
lungs, and, on recovering consciousness, he
saw the General standing at his side.
Wolfe pressed his hand, told him not
to despair, praised his services, promised
him early promotion, and sent an aide-
de-camp to Monckton, to beg that general officer
to keep the promise if he himself should
fall. x ["x" indicates there is a footnote below. ]

It was towards ten o'clock,
when, from a hillock on the right of the
line, Wolfe saw that the crisis was near.
The French on the ridge had formed
themselves into three bodies, regulars in
the centre, regulars and Canadians on
right and left. Two field pieces which
had been dragged up the height fired
on them with grapeshot, and the troops,
rising from the ground, formed their
ranks to receive them. In a few moments,
x [footnote marker] Sir Denis le Marchant, cited by Wright, 579. Le Marchant knew the
captain in his old age. Monckton kept Wolfe's promise.

[1759. Sept. 283 58 ]
more, they were in motion. They came
on rapidly, uttering loud shouts
and firing as soon as they were within
range. Their ranks, ill ordered at the best, were far-
ther confused by a number of Canadians
except only in the centre,
who had been mixed among the regulars,
and who, after hastily firing, threw them-
selves on the ground to reload. x ["x" indicates there is a footnote below. ] The
British advanced a few rods; then halted
and stood still. When the French were
within forty paces, the word of command
rang out, and a crash of musketry
answered all along the line. The
volley was delivered with remarkable
precision. In the battalions of the centre,
which had suffered least from the enemy's
bullets, the simultaneous explosion was
afterwards said by French officers to
have sounded like a cannon-shot. Another
volley followed, and then a furious clatter-
ing fire that lasted but a minute or
two. When the smoke rose, a miserable
sight was revealed; the ground cumbered
x [footnote marker] "Les Candiens qui étaient mêlés dans les battalions se pressèrent de
tirer et, dès qu'ils l'eussent fait, de mettre ventre à terre pour charger, ce qui
rompit tout l'ordre." Malartic à Bourlamaque, 25 Sept. 1759.
[1759. Sept. 284 59]
with dead and wounded, the advancing
masses stopped short and turned
to a frantic mob shouting, cursing,
gesticulating. The order was given to
charge. Then over the field rose the
British cheer, mixed with the fierce
Yell of the Highland Slogan.. Some of the
corps pushed forward with the bayonet;
some advanced firing. The clansmen
drew their broadswords and dashed on,
keen and swift as bloodhounds. At the
English right, though the attacking
column was broken to pieces, a fire
was still kept up, chiefly, it seems,
by sharpshooters from the bushes and
cornfields, where they had been lying lain
for an hour or more. Here Wolfe him-
self led the charge, at the head of
the Louisbourg grenadiers. A shot
shattered his wrist. He wrapped his
handkerchief about it and kept on.
another shot struck him, and he still
advanced, when a third lodged in his
Breast. He staggered and sat on the
[1759. Sept. 285 60 ]
ground. Lieutenant Brown of the grena-
diers, one Henderson, a volunteer in the
same company, and a private soldier,
aided by an officer of artillery who
ran to join them, carried him in their
arms to the rear. He begged them to
lay him down. They did so, and asked
if he would have a surgeon. "There's
no need," he answered, "it's all over
with me." A moment after, one of them
cried out "They run, see how they run!"
"Who run?" Wolfe demanded, like a man
roused from sleep. "The enemy, Sir. Egad,
they give way everywhere." "Go one of
you to Colonel Burton," returned the
dying man; "Tell him to march Webb's
regiment down to Charles River, to cut
off the retreat from the bridge. Then,
turning on his side, he murmured, "Now,
God be praised, I will die in peace;"
and in a few moments his gallant soul
had fled.

Carrell. [Previous word is possibly an editorial note.] Montcalm, still on horseback,
was borne with the tide of fugitives

[1759. Sept. 286 61 ]
towards the town. As he approached the
walls, a shot passed through his
body. He kept his seat; two soldiers
supported him, one on each side, and
led his horse through the St. Louis Gate.
On the open space within, among the
excited crowd, were several women, drawn
no doubt by eagerness to know the
result of the fight. One of them recog-
nised him, saw the streaming blood
and shrieked, "Oh Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!
le Marquis est tué." "It's nothing, it's nothing."
replied the deathstricken man; "Don't be
troubled for me, my good friends;" "Ce
n'est rien, ce n'est rien; ne vous affliges
pas pour moi, mes bons amis bonnes amies."