nce that were posted along the shore.
The current carried them beyond the destined spot. They found themselves
at the foot of a precipice, esteemed so impracticable, that only a
slight guard of one hundred and fifty men defended it. Had there been a
path, the night was too dark to discover it. The troops, whom nothing
could discourage, for these difficulties could not, pulled themselves
and one another up by stumps and boughs of trees. The guard hearing a
rustling, fired down the precipice at random, as our men did up into
the air; but, terrified by the strangeness of the attempt, the French
picquet fled--all but the captain, who, though wounded, would not accept
quarter, but fired at one of our officers at the head of five hundred
men. This, as he staked but a single life, was thought such an unfair
war, that, instead of honouring his desperate valour, our men, to
punish him, cut off his croix de St. Louis before they sent him to
the hospital. Two of our officers, however, signed a certificate
of his courage, lest the French should punish him as corrupted--our
enterprises, unless facilitated by corruption, being deemed impossible
to have taken place. Day-break discovered our forces in possession of
the eminence. Montcalm could not credit it when reported to him--but it
was too late to doubt, when nothing but a battle could save the town.
Even then he held our attempt so desperate, that being shown the
position of the English, he said, "Oui, je les vois ou ils ne doivent
pas etre." Forced to quit his intrenchments, he said, "S'il faut done
combattre, je vais les ecraser." He prepared for engagement, after
lining the bushes with detachments of Indians. Our men according to
orders, reserved their fire with a patience and tranquillity equal to
the resolution they had exerted in clambering the precipice--but when
they gave it, it took place with such terrible slaughter of the enemy,
that half an hour decided the day. The French fled precipitately, and
Montcalm, endeavouring to rally them, was killed on the spot. General
Monckton was wounded early, and obliged to retire. The fall of Wolfe was
noble indeed. He received a wound in the head, but covered it from his
soldiers with his handkerchief. A second ball struck him in the belly,
that too he dissembled. A third hitting him in the breast, he sunk under
the anguish, and was carried behind the ranks. Yet, as fast as life
ebbed out, his whole anxiety centred on the fortune of th