on the 13th, almost five thousand British troops were drawn up in battle array on the Plains of Abraham, three hundred feet above the St. Lawrence.

7. Montcalm could hardly believe the messenger who brought him intelligence of this marshalling of the English upon the weak side of the city. "It can be but a small party come to burn a few houses, and return," he said; but he was soon undeceived. Then he saw the imminent danger to which the town and garrison were exposed, and he immediately abandoned his intrenchments, and led a large portion of his army across the St. Charles, to attack the invaders. He sent messengers to call back De Bougainville; and at ten o'clock Montcalm was upon the Plains of Abraham, and his army in battle line. The French had three field-pieces; the English had but one, and that was a light six-pounder, which some sailors had dragged up the ravine.

8. Wolfe placed himself on the right, at the head of the Louisburg grenadiers, who were burning with a desire to wipe out the stain of their defeat at the Montmorenci. Montcalm was on the left, at the head of the regiments of Languedoc (lan'ghe-doc), Bearne (bern), and Guienne (ghe-en'). So the two commanders stood face to face. Wolfe ordered his men to load with two bullets each, and to reserve their fire until the French should be within forty yards. These orders were strictly obeyed, and their double-shotted guns did terrible execution. After delivering several rounds in rapid succession, which threw the French into confusion, the English charged upon them furiously with their bayonets.

9. While urging on his battalions in this charge, Wolfe was singled out by some Canadians on the left, and was slightly wounded in the wrist. He stanched the blood with a handkerchief, and, while cheering on his men, received a second wound in the groin. A few minutes afterward, another bullet struck him in the breast, and brought him to the ground, mortally wounded. At that moment, regardless of self, he thought only of victory for his troops. "Support me," he said to an fficer near him; "let not my brave soldiers see me drop. The

day is ours-keep it!" He was taken to the rear, while his troops continued to charge. The officer on whose shoulder he was leaning, exclaimed, "They run! they run!" The waning light returned to the dim eyes of the hero, and he asked, "Who runs ?"-"The enemy, sir; they give way everywhere."-"What," feebly exclaimed Wolfe, "do they run already? Go to Colonel Preston, and tell him to march Webb's regiment immediately to the bridge over the St. Charles, and cut off the fugitives' retreat. Now, God be praised, I die happy!" These were his last words, and, in the midst of sorrowing companions, just at the moment of victory, he expired.

10. Montcalm, who was fighting gallantly at the head of the French, also received a mortal wound. "Death is certain," said his surgeon. "I am glad of it," replied Montcalm; "how long shall I survive?" "Ten or twelve hours, perhaps less." "So much the better; I shall not live to see the surrender of Quebec!" He wrote a letter to General Townsend, recommending the prisoners to the humanity of the British, and expired at five o'clock the next morning. Five days afterward the city capitulated", thus brilliantly ending the campaign' of 1759. Almost seventy years afterward, an English governor of Canada caused a noble granite obelisk" to be erected in the city of Quebec to the memory of WOLFE and MONTCALM.

"O Wolfe! to thee a streaming flood of woe,
Sighing we pay, and think e'en conquest dear;
Quebec in vain shall teach our breasts to glow,
Whilst thy sad fate extorts the heart-wrung tear."
Goldsmith.

[The reduction of Canada, the object of the campaign, was not, however, accomplished. The French, early in the next year, prepared to attempt the recovery of their tronghold; and on the 28th of April was fought one of the most desperate battles of the war; the British, at the close, being compelled to fall back to their defenses, where they were succored by the timely arrival of a British fleet. In September following, the French surrendered Montreal; and by the Treaty of Paris, made in 1763, Canada became a British province.]

The Battle of Bunker Hill.-Cozzens.

[The expenses which Great Britain had incurred in the French and Indian war greatly increased her national debt, to reduce which the Ministry adopted the measure of taxing the American colonies. In pursuance of this measure, the Stamp Act was passed in 1765, and was followed by other acts of a similar character, all of which received the most determined opposition from the colonists. At length war ensued. The battle of Lexington was fought on the 19th of April, 1775, which was soon followed by the battle of Bunker Hill. This latter battle was brought on by the patriots' erecting fortifications on Breed's Hill, near Boston, in order to prevent the British from assuming offensive operations. On the morning of the 17th of June, 1775, the British commenced the attack on the American works, but were twice repulsed. A third attack, however, succeeded, the Americans having exhausted their ammunition. The incidents of this celebrated battle are finely portrayed in the following spirited lines, by Frederick S. Cozzens, an American poet and humorist.]

It was a starry night in June, the air was soft and still,

When the "Minute-men" from Cambridge came, and gathered on the hill;
Beneath us lay the sleeping town, around us frowned the fleet,
But the pulse of freemen, not of slaves, within our bosoms beat;
And every heart rose high with hope, as fearlessly we said,

'We will be numbered with the free, or numbered with the dead !"

"Bring out the line to mark the trench, and stretch it on the sward !"
The trench is marked, the tools are brought, we utter not a word,
But stack our guns, then fall to work with mattock and with spade,
A thousand men with sinewy arms, and not a sound is made;
So still were we, the stars beneath, that scarce a whisper fell;

We heard the red-coat's musket click, and heard him cry, "All's well!"

See how the morn is breaking! The red is in the sky;

*

The mist is creeping from the stream that floats in silence by ;

The Lively's hull looms through the fog, and they our works have spied;
For the ruddy flash and round-shot part in thunder from her side;
And the Falcon and the Cerberus make every bosom thrill,
With gun and shell, and drum and bell, and boatswain's whistle shrill;
But deep and wider grows the trench, as spade and mattock ply,
For we have to cope with fearful odds, and the time is drawing nigh!

Up with the pine-tree banner! Our gallant PRESCOTT stands
Amid the plunging shells and shot, and plants it with his hands;
Up with the shout! for PUTNAM comes upon his reeking bay,
With bloody spur and foaming bit, in haste to join the fray;

And POMEROY, with his snow-white hair, and face all flush and sweat,
Unscathed by French and Indian, wears a youthful glory yet.

But thou whose soul is glowing in the summer of thy years,
Unvanquishable WARREN, thou, the youngest of thy peers,
Wert born and bred, and shaped and made, to act a patriot's part,
And dear to us thy presence is as heart's blood to the heart!

Hark! from the town a trumpet! The barges at the wharf
Are crowded with the living freight, and now they're pushing off:
With clash and glitter, trump and drum, in all its bright array,
Behold the splendid sacrifice mcve slowly o'er the bay!
And still and still the barges fill, and still across the deep,
Like thunder-clouds along the sky, the hostile transports sweep.

And now they're forming at the Point; and now the lines advance:
We see beneath the sultry sun their polished bayonets glance;
We hear a-near the throbbing drum, the bugle-challenge ring;
Quick bursts and loud the flashing cloud, and rolls from wing to wing;
But on the height our bulwark stands, tremendous in its gloom,—
As sullen as a tropic sky, and silent as a tomb.

And so we waited till we saw, at scarce ten rifles' length,
The old vindictive Saxon spite in all its stubborn strength;
When sudden, flash on flash, around the jaggèd rampart burst
From every gun the livid light upon the foe accursed.

Then quailed a monarch's might before a free-born people's ire;
Then drank the sward the veteran's life, when swept the yeoman's fire.

Then, staggered by the shot, we saw their serried columns reel,
And fall, as falls the bearded rye beneath the reaper's steel;
And then arose a mighty shout that might have waked the dead-
"Hurrah! they run! the field is won! HURRAH! the foe is fled !"
And every man hath dropped his gun to clutch a neighbor's hand,
As his heart kept praying all the while for home and native land.

Thrice on that day we stood the shock of thrice a thousand foes,
And thrice that day within our lines the shout of victory rose;
And though our swift fire slackened then, and, reddening in the skies,
We saw from Charlestown's roofs and walls the flaming columns rise,
Yet, while we had a cartridge left, we still maintained the fight,
Nor gained the foe one foot of ground upon that blood-stained height.

What though for us no laurels bloom, nor o'er the nameless brave
No sculptured trophy, scroll, nor hatch records a warrior's gravel

What though the day to us was lost! Upon that deathless page,
The everlasting charter stands for every land and age!
For man hath broke his felon bonds and cast them in the dust,
And claimed his heritage divine, and justified the trust;
While through his rifted prison bars the hues of freedom pour,
O'er every nation, race, and clime, on every sea and shore,
Such glories as the patriarch viewed, when, 'mid the darkest skies,
He saw above a ruined world the Bow of Promise rise.

Patrick Henry.—Anonymous.

1. WHEN the question first came to be agitated concerning the right of the British Parliament to tax America, Patrick Henry, styled by his contemporaries the "Orator of Nature," gave the first impulse to the ball of the Revolution. Men who were on other occasions distinguished for intrepidity and decision, hung back, unwilling to submit, yet afraid to speak out in the language of bold and open defiance. In 1765, in the Assembly of Virginia, he introduced a series of resolutions which claimed for the inhabitants of that State all the rights of born British subjects; denied any authority, except that of the provincial Assembly, to impose taxes upon them; and denounced the attempt to vest that authority elsewhere as inconsistent with the ancient Constitution, and subversive of British as well as of American liberty.

2. Upon the introduction of these resolutions, a hot debate ensued, during which Henry exclaimed, "Cæsar had his Brutus, Charles I. his Cromwell, and George III."-"Treason! treason!" shouted the Speaker, and the cry was re-echoed from the House "George III. may profit by their example," continued the orator. "If that be treason, make the most of it!". The resolutions were adopted.

3. Again, in March, 1775, in the Virginia Convention, he electrified the minds of his colleagues, hesitating and reluctant to enter upon a contest with the mother country, by his brilliant displays of argument and eloquence. "The question before the House," he exclaimed, "is nothing less than freedom or slavery. If we wish to be free, we must fight-I repeat