ville's division, which was watching Admiral Holmes, to about three thousand men, and on September 12 he ordered the regiment of Guienne to occupy the heights above the little bay, a mile and a half above Quebec, now known as Wolfe's Cove. The only guard at this all-important point, the only one for miles where there was any possibility of scaling the cliffs, was a dozen or so men under an officer named Vergor, who had the reputation of being somewhat timid. On the 12th Vergor, knowing perhaps that the regiment of Guienne had been ordered to relieve him, had given permission to the Canadian militiamen, who formed the bulk of his party, to go to their homes for a few days to assist with the harvest. The regiment of Guienne for some reason did not carry out its orders, and on the night of September 12, the very night on which Wolfe was to make his attempt, there were only two or three men at the point where the cliffs were to be scaled, and these went calmly to bed leaving one sleepy sentinel to watch the path leading up from the river. Had Montcalm's orders been carried out Wolfe's forlorn hope instead of finding only a single man to oppose them would have found a regiment, and the enterprise might have ended in disaster ere it had well begun.

Montcalm's soldier instinct had made him uneasy about his western defences. Before dawn on the fatal September 13, he was riding hard for the city from Beauport, and at six in the morning, as he galloped up the slope of St. Charles, he was astounded to see the scarlet uniforms of the British on the spot where he had expected to find the regiment of Guienne.

By the evening of September 12 Wolfe had completed all his preparations for the battle of the morrow, and night came down, starlit and serene. The camp fires of the two armies burned along the shores of the St. Lawrence, and the ships lay at anchor, their riding lights burning clear in the autumn gloom. But on board these ships everyone was alert and thrilling for the coming fight. Wolfe was in the flagship and waited impatient for the turning of the tide, which was to be the signal for the start. After darkness had settled down the ships' boats were lowered and filled with soldiers. The regiments chosen were the Light Infantry, Bragg's, Lascelles', Kennedy's, and Anstruther's regiments, Fraser's Highlanders, the Royal Americans, and the Louisburg Grenadiers, the pick and flower of the besieging army. On shore, in the entrenchments of Cap Rouge, Bougainville's weary division watched the ships for a while, concluded there would be no move that night, and lay

down to sleep. No word was spoken on board the fleet or in the crowded boats. The only sound that broke the stillness was the lapping rustle of the wavelets as they beat softly against the vessels' sides. The General paced the Sutherland's deck or leaned with arms folded on the rail watching the distant lights of Quebec.

At ten o'clock a naval officer approached and said in low tones, 'The tide has turned, sir.' Wolfe straightened his pain-bowed figure, and for answer waved his hand towards the Sutherland's maintop shrouds. Instantly the signal lanterns, which stood ready lighted on the deck, swung aloft, and at the same moment the boats cast off and dropped slowly down stream on the ebbing tide. Wolfe stepped over the side of the flagship, took his place in his boat, and was rowed to the head of the flotilla. Before leaving the ship he had taken from his breast the portrait of his affianced wife and handing it to his old schoolfellow, Captain John Jarvis, of H.M.S. Porcupine (afterwards Lord St. Vincent), asked him to return it to her in the event of his death.

As the boats passed slowly down the river Wolfe repeated aloud two stanzas from Gray's Elegy,' closing with the lineprophetic in his case- The path of glory leads but to the grave.' Turning to the officers seated beside him in the boat he said, 'Gentlemen, I would rather have written those lines than take Quebec.'

The boats swept onward, and after a time the ships weighed anchor and also dropped down stream with the troops of the second division on board. Bougainville's soldiers at Cap Rouge were too tired or too careless to march along the river bank to watch them. Two hours had elapsed, and the leading boats had drawn near the landing place. The foremost was carried somewhat past the selected spot when from the darkness of the cliff above a drowsy voice hailed Qui vive?' 'La France,' replied an officer of Fraser's Highlanders, who had served in Flanders and had there learned to speak French.

À quel régiment?' queried the voice. 'De la Reine,' answered the Highlander, adding in warning tones, 'Ne faites pas de bruit; ce sont les vivres.'

The English had learned from a deserter that boats laden with supplies were expected that night to try and run the blockade of Holmes' division. Bougainville had countermanded the convoy, but he sent no intimation to Vergor. The sentry was satisfied, and the boats pulled in shore and the troops disembarking, hastily but

silently, stood on the narrow strand. Twenty-four volunteers from the Light Infantry, who had offered themselves for an unknown but important enterprise, at once set out under command of Colonel Howe to scale the cliff.

The path which Wolfe had seen some days before with his telescope was found to be obstructed by abattis, but the men pulled themselves up by the roots and branches of trees, and as dawn was breaking reached the top. Through the dim light they saw the tents of Vergor's sleeping encampment and dashed at them. The few men in them, roused from their sleep, fled at once, but Vergor, though reputed a coward, stood firm and fired his pistols, and some of the Light Infantry returned his fire. The report of the shots and the cheers of the forlorn hope under Colonel Howe apprised Wolfe that his first step had been successful. He gave the word to advance, and the remainder of the troops swarmed up the cliff to join their comrades. The boats returned to the ships for more men. Presently the gunners in the batteries at Samos and Sillery saw what was in progress, and they opened fire on the boats and on Holmes' squadron. Colonel Howe and the Light Infantry were sent to silence the batteries, which they effectually did, and the debarkation proceeded rapidly.

Meanwhile, the fleet in the basin by the Isle of Orleans began to bombard the trenches at Beauport, and the batteries on Levis opened a fierce fire against Quebec itself. It was now daylight, and Montcalm, having ridden up in the grey dawn from Beauport, knew what threatened. But he was too late. Wolfe's troops were already in position, and were hastily entrenching themselves on the heights. Montcalm ordered his troops up from Beauport, and sent messages to Bougainville urging him to march with all haste from Cap Rouge and threaten the British rear. But Vaudreil lagged on the way from Beauport in unaccountable fashion, and there was no sign of Bougainville. At eight in the morning Montcalm determined to attack before the British had time to complete their entrenchments. He hoped, no doubt, that Vaudreil and Bougainville would arrive in time to decide the fortunes of the day. So with the regiments of Royal Roussillon, La Sarre, Languedoc, and Béarne (that of Guienne was already on the field), he moved out of the St. John and St. Louis Gates, accompanied by some Canadian militia, the armed burghers of Quebec, and a swarm of coureurs-de-bois and Indians. The French force was divided into three columns, under Sennezergue, St. Ours, and

Faitbonne respectively. All three of these officers as well as the Commander-in-Chief died that day for France. Montcalm placed himself with the centre column at the head of the regiment of Languedoc. His line of battle extended along the rising ground in front of the city walls from near the heights above the St. Lawrence to those overlooking the St. Charles.

Wolfe had disposed his troops so that his line was roughly parallel to that of the French. The plain at the scene of the battle is barely a mile wide, but the British force was not sufficiently strong to extend its left to the St. Charles heights, so the 15th Foot was thrown back at almost right angles to the general alignment. Wolfe's position was dangerous in the extreme; he had not only Montcalm's army and the garrison of Quebec in front, but there was Bougainville with three thousand men in his rear. Montcalm, if he had waited a few hours, could have assembled at least ten thousand men and thirty guns against the British, and might have hurled them off the heights ere the sun had set. But the French general appears to have lost his usual calmness of judgment, and he decided to risk a battle with such troops as he could muster in Quebec itself, in all about five thousand men with three guns. This was approximately the strength of Wolfe's army, but it was composed of seasoned veterans, while the enemy included a considerable proportion of militia, untrained coureurs-debois, and Indians.

Wolfe posted his troops with the 35th, then an Irish regiment, on the right. Next to them were the Louisburg Grenadiers, and then in succession to the left the 28th, 43rd, 47th, Fraser's Highlanders, and the 58th, with the 15th thrown back on the flank as already described. The Royal Americans (60th) and the 48th were in reserve, and the Light Infantry was a long way in rear watching for the advent of Bougainville. Wolfe's brigadiers were Monckton, Townsend, and Murray. Monckton commanded the right, and with him Wolfe himself remained, being probably under the impression that Montcalm might try to turn his right and cut off the retreat towards the river. Down the middle of the British position ran a road, and on it was posted a six-pounder, which the bluejackets had man-handled up the precipitous path from the St. Lawrence. So the two armies stood at eight o'clock in the morning.

Montcalm's first move was to send forward a swarm of Indians and coureurs-de-bois as skirmishers, and these opened a galling fire on the British, especially on the left, where there was close cover.

Murray's brigade suffered so severely that he presently brought up the 60th to support his flank and help to drive the French skirmishers out of the woods and houses. The centre and right were not much troubled, and for a time the men remained lying down biding their time without firing a shot. Montcalm's three field guns opened, and were replied to with great spirit by the six-pounder on the Sillery Road. So the morning wore on until ten o'clock, when the whole French line advanced, the white-coated regulars in the centre, the militia and Indians swarming on their flanks. Firing as they came on, the French line made a gallant show, but the silent, steady British made no reply. Wolfe's soldiers had loaded their muskets with an extra ball and stood with arms recovered till the French advanced to within a hundred yards, then to eighty, and at last to fifty yards. Every detail of the French uniforms was visible, even to the patterns on their buttons. Then, at last, Wolfe gave the signal. The muskets were lowered in a deadly line, and the most perfect volley ever heard on a battlefield crashed from the British ranks as if fired from a single monstrous weapon.' The only other ever heard like it was that fired by Lord Hay's terrible column at the battle of Fontenoy. A dense bank of smoke blotted the French from sight, but from behind it came a dreadful din of clattering arms and horrid groans and cries. The rattle of the British ramrods mingled with the sound as the men reloaded, and when the smoke cleared another frightful volley smashed through the shattered ranks, and the French broke and fled in hopeless confusion before that awful hail.

Montcalm, conspicuous on a black charger, tried to rally his men, but in vain. Now was the moment to strike, and Wolfe gave the order to charge. Sword in hand he rushed forward at the head of the 28th. He had been wounded in the wrist early in the day, but had covered the wound with his handkerchief. Another bullet struck him in the groin, but he still strode forward, when a third shot passed through his lungs and he sank to the ground, while the troops drove the French before them in dismay towards Quebec.

Wolfe was borne to the rear, and as his weeping soldiers laid him down, he said gently, 'There is no need '-someone had called for a surgeon-it is all over with me.'

His head fell forward and the mists of death gathered in his eyes. They run; see how they run!' cried an officer of the Louisburg Grenadiers, who was supporting the drooping form of the dying general.