ntcalm staggered, shivered, and broke before
that wasting storm of lead. The smoke rolling along the field for a
moment shut out the view, but, when the white wreaths were scattered on
the wind, a wretched spectacle was disclosed: men and officers tumbled
in heaps, battalions resolved into a mob, order and obedience gone; and,
when the British muskets were levelled for a second volley, the masses
of the militia were seen to cower and shrink with uncontrollable panic.
For a few minutes the French regulars stood their ground, returning a
sharp and not ineffectual fire. But now, echoing cheer on cheer,
redoubling volley on volley, trampling the dying and the dead, and
driving the fugitives in crowds, the British troops advanced and swept
the field before them. The ardour of the men burst all restraint. They
broke into a run and with unsparing slaughter chased the flying
multitude to the gates of Quebec. Foremost of all, the light-footed
Highlanders dashed along in furious pursuit, hewing down the Frenchmen
with their broadswords and slaying many in the very ditch of the
fortifications. Never was victory more quick or more decisive.

In the short action and pursuit the French lost fifteen hundred men,
killed, wounded, and taken. Of the remainder some escaped within the
city, and others fled across the St. Charles to rejoin their comrades
who had been left to guard the camp. The pursuers were recalled by sound
of trumpet, the broken ranks were formed afresh, and the English troops
withdrawn beyond reach of the cannon of Quebec. Townshend and Murray,
the only general officers who remained unhurt, passed to the head of
every regiment in turn and thanked the soldiers for the bravery they had
shown; yet the triumph of the victors was mingled with sadness as
tidings went from rank to rank that Wolfe had fallen.

In the heat of the action, as he advanced at the head of the grenadiers
of Louisburg, a bullet shattered his wrist, but he wrapped his
handkerchief about the wound, and showed no sign of pain. A moment more
and a ball pierced his side. Still he pressed forward waving his sword
and cheering his soldiers to the attack, when a third shot lodged deep
within his breast. He paused, reeled, and staggering to one side, fell
to earth. Brown, a lieutenant of the grenadiers, Henderson, a volunteer,
an officer of artillery, and a private soldier, raised him together in
their arms, and bearing him to the rear laid him softly on the gr