n was for cutting his way through.
A few men ran round by the wharf and escaped on the tidal
flats of the St Charles. But, after a hurried consultation,
the main body, including Morgan, laid down their arms. This
was decisive. The British had won the fight.

The complete British loss in killed and wounded was
wonderfully small, only thirty, just one-tenth of the
corresponding American loss, which was large out of all
proportion. Nearly half of the fifteen hundred Americans
had gone--over four hundred prisoners and about three
hundred killed and wounded. Nor were the mere numbers
the most telling point about it; for the worse half
escaped--Livingston's Montreal 'patriots,' many of whom
had done very little fighting, Montgomery's time-expired
New Yorkers, most of whom wanted to go home, and Jerry
Duggan's miscellaneous rabble, all of whom wanted a
maximum of plunder with a minimum of war.

The British victory was as nearly perfect as could have
been desired. It marked the turn of the tide in a desperate
campaign which might have resulted in the total loss of
Canada. And it was of the greatest significance and
happiest augury because all the racial elements of this
new and vast domain had here united for the first time
in defence of that which was to be their common heritage.
In Carleton's little garrison of regulars and militia,
of bluejackets, marines, and merchant seamen, there were
Frenchmen and French Canadians, there were Englishmen,
Irishmen, Scotsmen, Welshmen, Orcadians, and Channel
Islanders, there were a few Newfoundlanders, and there
mere a good many of those steadfast Royal Emigrants who
may be fitly called the forerunners of the United Empire
Loyalists. Yet, in spite of this remarkable significance,
no public memorial of Carleton has ever been set up; and
it was only in the twentieth century that the Dominion
first thought of commemorating his most pregnant victory
by placing tablets to mark the sites of the two famous
barricades.

As soon as things had quieted down within the walls
Carleton sent out search-parties to bring in the dead
for decent burial and to see if any of the wounded had
been overlooked. James Thompson, the assistant engineer,
saw a frozen hand protruding from a snowdrift at
Pres-de-Ville. It was Montgomery's. The thirteen bodies
were dug out and Thompson was ordered to have a 'genteel
coffin made for Mr Montgomery,' who was buried in the
wall just above St Louis Gate by the Angl