"Support me," said he to a grenadier officer who was close at hand, "that my brave fellows may not see me fall." In a few seconds, however, he sank, and was borne a little to the rear. The brief struggle fell heavily upon the British, but was ruinous to the French. They wavered under the carnage; the columns which death had disordered were soon broken and scattered. Montcalm, with a courage that rose above the wreck of hope, galloped through the groups of his stubborn veterans, who still made head against the enemy, and strove to show a front of battle. His efforts were vain. In a few minutes the French gave way in all directions. Just then their gallant general fell with a mortal wound; from that time. all was utter rout. While the British troops were carrying all before them, their young general's life was ebbing fast away. From time to time he tried, with his faint hand, to clear away the death-mist that gathered on his sight; but the efforts seemed vain, for presently he lay back, and gave no signs of life beyond a heavy breathing and an occasional groan. Meantime the French had given way, and were flying in all directions. A grenadier officer seeing this, called out to those around him, "See! they run!" The words caught the ear of the dying man. He raised himself, like one aroused from sleep, and asked eagerly, "Who run?" "The enemy, sir," answered the officer, “they give way everywhere." "Go, one of you, to Colonel Burton," said Wolfe, "tell him to march Webbe's (the 48th) regiment with all speed down to the St. Charles River, to cut off the retreat.” His voice grew faint as he spoke, and he turned on his side, as if seeking an easier position. When he had given this last order, his eyes closed in death. When the news reached England, triumph and lamentation were strangely intermingled. Astonishment and admiration at the splendid victory, with sorrow for the loss of the gallant victor, filled every breast. Throughout all the land were illuminations and public rejoicings, except in the little Kentish village of Westerham, where Wolfe had been born, and where his widowed mother now mourned her only child. After further successes of the British in other parts of Canada, under generals Amherst, Haviland, and Sir William Johnson, the French cause became hopeless. On the 8th of September, 1760, a British force of sixteen thousand men assembled before Montreal; and on the same day a capitulation was signed which severed Canada from France forever. One of the most momentous political questions that have ever moved the human race was decided in this struggle. When a few English and French emigrants first landed among the Virginian and Canadian forests it began; when the British flag was hoisted on the citadel of Quebec it was decided. From that day Providence pointed out to the Anglo-Saxon race that to them was henceforth intrusted the destiny of the New World. flo til'la, a small fleet. High'land ers, men from the High- bat tal'ion, an army, or a section of Qui vive, Who goes there? M., an abbreviation of "Monsieur," equivalent to our "Mister." skir'mish ers, irregular fighters in parties. re doubt', an enclosed work of defence. ca pit u la'tion, surrender. An'glo Sax'on, here, the English, and later, the Americans. ELIOT BARTHOLOMEW GEORGE WARBURTON (1810-1852) was an Irish traveller, historian, biographer, and novelist. STARS BARRY CORNWALL THEY glide upon their endless way, Mark the Daughters of the Night: They follow in the track of Day, Shine on, sweet orbed Souls for aye, We ask not whither lies your way, Nor whence ye came, nor what your light. Be still a dream throughout the day, A blessing through the night. ANNABEL LEE EDGAR ALLAN POE It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea: But we loved with a love that was more than love I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the wingéd seraphs of heaven And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Yes! that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than we, Of many far wiser than we; And neither the angels in heaven above, For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes And so, all the night-tide I lie down by her side In her tomb by the sounding sea. EDGAR ALLAN POE (1809-1849) was an American poet and writer of tales. Much of his poetry is remarkable for its rhythm. TRANSIENT PLEASURES ROBERT BURNS BUT pleasures are like poppies spread, A moment white then melts forever; That flit ere you can point their place; Evanishing amid the storm. ROBERT BURNS (1759-1796) was one of the greatest Scotch poets. |