to attack Quebec. GENERAL AMHERST, who had succeeded Abercrombie, had quietly taken possession of Ticonderoga and Crown Point, and was to join Wolfe in the attack. The French were in low spirits, and bad condition. They had always been outnumbered by the English; and during the winter they had suffered dreadfully from famine-all the farmers having spent the year in fighting instead of sowing the fields.

But the gallant Montcalm never quailed. He wrote to the King of France that the people of Canada were sorely tried, and wanted peace very badly; but having done this, he prepared to fight as bravely as if he had been sure of victory.

Quebec is, as you know, one of the strongest places in the world. The rock on which it stands rises out of the St. Lawrence to a towering height; and Wolfe, when he sailed up, saw that, to reach the city, he must either climb the heights on one side, or ford a river and a marsh on the other. Both were very difficult operations. He had said, however, when he left England, that he would either conquer or die in the attempt; and he meant to keep his word.

On the last day of July he gave orders for the attack. But fortune was against him. Some of his boats ran aground and the French destroyed them. When his men landed, Montcalm ordered a fire, which threw them into confusion, and before they could be rallied, night came on.

This reverse did not discourage Wolfe in the least. He sent word to General Amherst, who was at Crown Point, to come directly to assist him; and

day after day, for weeks, he watched for his coming, but Amherst never stirred. Then a fever seized him, and his teeth chattered so that he could hardly speak, and he knew he had but a short time to live. But his resolution to take Quebec never faltered.

He had moved most of his troops some miles above the city, and pretended to be meditating a landing there. Some of his ships-commanded by the famous sailor CAPTAIN COOK-he ordered to sail to and fro below the city, so that the French might expect him there too.

Then, at the dead of night, on the twelfth of September, he dropped down the river in boats with muffled oars, and landed opposite a narrow path leading up the cliffs. There was only room for two men to walk abreast on the path; and often the soldiers were obliged to seize hold of branches and roots of trees to drag themselves up. But at last they all reached the heights above, and a messenger ran in haste to Montcalm to say the English were close to the city. He would not believe it at first; but when he saw the flags waving in the distance, he ordered his men to march to the attack.

Then the battle began on the thirteenth of September. It was long and bloody; but in the end the French gave way. Brave Wolfe had been in the thick of the fight, and had been wounded twice. At last a ball struck him in the breast, and he would have fallen but for an officer who caught him in his arms. As he sank exhausted, some one

cried,

"Ah! they run."

Wolfe raised his drooping head and asked,

"Who run ?"

The officer answered,

"The French run on every side."

“Then," said the dying hero, "God be praised, I die happy!"

Almost at the same moment an English ball struck the gallant Montcalm, and he fell. A surgeon running to him, he asked how long he would live. The surgeon replied,

"Ten or twelve hours, or perhaps less."

"So much the better," said the noble Frenchman, "I shall not live to see the surrender of Quebec." And turning to one of his officers: "To you, sir, I commit the honor of France."

In the middle of a pretty garden in the city of Quebec, there stands a tall column which can be seen from a great distance. There is no ornament of any kind about it; nothing but the plain stones laid one above another, and rising into the air. The rain and snow patter against it, and the east wind whistles round it on the cold winter nights. On one side of that column is inscribed the name of Wolfe: on the other, Montcalm. I do not know where to look for a monument that bears the names of two braver men.

THE

CHAPTER XXI.

HE great lords in England were never tired of sending out members of their own families to be governors of the colonies in America. If all these lords and their sons and brothers and nephews and cousins, and all their relations generally, had been good and sensible men, the colonies might have had little reason to complain; but as most of these noble gentlemen were rather thick-headed and hard-hearted than otherwise, the colonies had great reason to dislike the system.

One of these governors- whose family was so very ancient and respectable that they thought the King an upstart-was LITTLETON of South Carolina, who was appointed when the people in their old way made the place too hot for GOVERNOR GLEN.

Governor Littleton, besides being a very wrongheaded man, had an idea that all the common sense in Carolina was stored away in his own skull. So, when a disturbance took place between the settlers and the Indians, and the Assembly of South Carolina undertook to settle it, he thanked them in a very grand way, and said he would manage it himself.

Having heard that some of the whites had been killed, he sent to the chiefs of the Cherokee Indians, and demanded that a like number of their warriors

should be delivered up to be put to death. The Indian chiefs replied that the whites had first attacked the Indians, which I have no doubt was the case, and that they could not give up any of their warriors.

Then Governor Littleton, having cheated the Assembly by telling a falsehood, spread the alarm far and wide, and called for men to march against the Cherokees. At the same time he sent them word that if they chose to depute any of their chiefs to parley with him, he would receive them well and allow them to return safe.

On this over thirty of the chiefs and warriors came down to Charleston to talk with the Governor. They had queer names, like most of the Indians: one was called Old Hop, another The Little Carpenter, another the Black Dog, and so on; but they were brave and true men, very different from the noble Governor. They said they loved the English, and sought not to harm them; related how ill they had been used by the whites, and begged protection from the Governor.

The people of Carolina-Lieutenant-Governor BULL especially—were for granting their prayer and making peace at once. But Governor Littleton, in his grand way, said he was going to the Cherokee country, and that if they would not give up as many warriors as there had been whites slain, he would take them.

Then the Indian chiefs asked to be allowed to go home. The treacherous Governor replied,

"Oh! certainly: but you had better go with my warriors, who will protect you."