The words seemed to rouse the dying man. "Who run?" he asked eagerly, but with feeble voice.
"The enemy, sir. Egad, they give way everywhere!"
"Go one of you, my lads," said Wolfe, "with all speed to Colonel Burton, and tell him to march down to the St. Charles river and cut off the retreat of the fugitives to the bridge."
Those were almost his last words. Even as he lay dying this fine officer thought of his duty and of his country. He turned on his side, exclaimed, "God be praised, I now die in peace," and becoming unconscious, he died within a few minutes. Wolfe had won fame indeed. His last hours of life had been devoted to the welfare of his country, and this crowning stroke had won Quebec, had wrecked the French power, and given to England another colony, a gem which shines in our crown as brightly as do any. Many and many a winter has come and gone since Wolfe laid down his life on those Plains of Abraham, the maple leaf has gladdened the eye with its wonderful autumn tints on many an occasion, while thousands of our population have blessed the man who helped to win us this fine province. Let England and her sons not forget. It is to devoted heroes such as Wolfe and his officers and soldiers that she owes in great part this flourishing empire over the seas.
Montcalm, the brave commander of the French, was also wounded on this field, and died on the following morning. An obelisk stands now on the heights of Quebec in honour of these two men who won renown on the Plains of Abraham, and pays its tribute to their bravery in the following lines:
Mortem Virtus, Communem
Famam Historia,
Monumentum Posteritas
Dedit.