waiting
for the word of command through the dreary hours of that night, in which
every belfry in New England was chiming out the dawn of the New Year,
which was to be the greatest in the Republic's history--1776--the birth
year of the nation.

At four o'clock in the morning two rockets glared redly to the sky, and
were immediately responded to by answering signals, which were observed
from the ramparts. The solitary sentinel on St. John's Bastion reported
an armed body of men approaching. It was a feint to distract attention
from the point where Montgomery was to make the attack.

The tidings spread that the riflemen of New England were at the gates;
the peaceable denizens of the town were startled with the cry of "To
arms! To arms!" from officers hastening through the streets. The pickets
in the Recollet Convent hurriedly gathered--the church bells clanged out
the alarm for the troops to march at once to their posts, while drums
beat and muskets rattled.

"Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro,
And gathering tears and tremblings of distress,
And cheeks all pale--and whispering with white lips,
'The foe! They come, they come!'"

Lights glimmered from the frost-covered casements as fearful mothers
tried to still the cries of their children, frightened with the unusual
clamour. Hands were rung and tearful farewells taken of those whose duty
called them out, with no certainty of return, for

"Who could guess if ever more should meet those mutual eyes?"

Arnold's men rushed at the barricades in Sault-au-Matelot st., with the
words "Victory or Death" stuck in their hats, while Montgomery
approached by a path known as "Pres-de-Ville." It was extremely narrow,
and obstructed with blocks of ice and snow-drifts. It was in the
neighbourhood of where now are the wharves of the Allan Line Steamship
Co.

In the narrowest part the Americans marched slowly and cautiously. They
passed the outer barrier without resistance and approached the inner,
commanded by Dambourges. All was apparently unwarned and silent, but it
was not deserted. Within was a masked battery of only a few
three-pounders, with a little band of Canadians, eight British Militia
and nine seamen to work the guns. The force advanced to within thirty
yards, with Montgomery in front. Beside a gun, which pointed directly
down their path, Sergeant Hugh McQuarters stood ready, the match in his
hand lighted to send the deadly missile at th