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140 The Heights of Abraham. [1759 and at his leisure the best body of troops perhaps that had fought for England since the days of Marlborough. Montcalm, away beyond the city at Beauport, was awaked at six, from a few hours of well-earned sleep, with what seemed incredible reports. Leaping on his horse, he galloped along the Beauport lines towards Quebec till he reached a point whence he could see through the grey of the morning the red lines of the British infantry in very truth, stretched across the plains of Abraham. He had thought himself quite safe for the season ; but, able soldier though he was, he had been clearly out-mano3uvred. Montcalm was no boastful Canadian ranger but an experienced general, and had few delusions as to the issue of a fight with Wolfed troops in the open. He remarked curtly to his aide-de-camp that the situation was serious, and then set himself to his difficult task amid the excitement with which the French lines from the city to the Montmorency were already throbbing. It was past nine o'clock when a French force numerically about equal to Wolfe's stood between him and the city. Montcalm was anxious to strike at once, since Bougainville with his 1500 men should by ordinary calculation be now in Wolfe's rear, while the possession of the Anse du Foulon gave the latter the power of bringing up fresh troops and even artillery. But Bougainville had not arrived, while the pick of Montcalm's army, a mixture of regulars and militia, had now collected for a struggle in which the British leader regarded victory as already secured. Both sides were eager for the fray, when the French advanced to the attack. The British, who had been greatly annoyed by sharp- shooters from the bordering thickets, had nevertheless kept their ranks with admirable steadiness, and now, under strict orders to reserve their fire, awaited the French who delivered theirs in desultory fashion as they advanced. It was not till the enemy were within forty yards that the entire British line poured in their first volley with a uniform precision that enthusiasts declared had never been known off a parade-ground and with a result more crushing than had ever been witnessed from a single discharge upon a battle-field. Amid the confusion into which this withering fire threw the advancing French, Wolfe's soldiers reloaded and pouring in one more volley rushed forward upon the shaken foe with bayonet and broadsword ; Wolfe, already wounded in the wrist, led the Louisbourg grenadiers upon the right in person. The mass of the French, already beaten, were flying towards the city. Groups of white- coated regulars, proud in their regimental traditions of European wars and their own victories in American woods, offered a brave but futile resistance, while riflemen and Indians hidden in woods and cornfields poured in a sharp fire upon the victorious enemy. At this moment, with the shouts of his victorious troops in his ears and the fruits of his daring already in his grasp, Wolfe received a ball in the groin, and almost immediately afterwards another passed through his lungs. He still