"It Was On The Night Of The 12th Of September, 1759, That Wolfe,
Checked By The French, At Montmorenci, Two
Months before, dropped down
the St. Lawrence with his army in boats, and succeeded in landing at a
little bend
Of the river, still half hidden by trees, where the high
and precipitous shores are most accessible, though yet most difficult
of ascent. The troops scaled the heights, meeting little opposition,
formed into line across the plains, and waited the attack of the
French, who had marched that morning from Beauport, near to which the
battle of Montmorenci had been fought. The French came on gallantly,
and the English stood their fire until they approached within forty
yards, and then delivered theirs. The French wavered, and Wolfe charged
at the head of his men, Montcalm heading his. A desperate fight took
place, and Wolfe fell, struck by the third ball, just as the French
line broke in confusion, and the English cheer of victory burst from
his conquering army. Montcalm was mortally wounded immediately
afterwards.
"On the spot where Wolfe fell, on the extreme right of his line, a
plain unpretending pillar is placed, bearing the simple inscription, -
"'HERE DIED WOLFE, VICTORIOUS, SEPT. 13, 1759.'
Near the Citadel, and in the town, another monument has been erected,
which bears the name of Wolfe on one side and that of Montcalm on the
other.
"To see the country, I had a drive of twenty-five miles along the St.
Charles river, through the Indian village of Lorette, and back through
the fine open district to the westward of the town. Our road was good
for a few miles, but then became such a collection of deep pits and
heaps of mud, that, but for a rude fence and wheel-marks, it would
hardly have been distinguished from the fields. The course of the St.
Charles, however, at this point, is between precipitous and sometimes
rocky banks, covered with trees and jungle: and in enjoyment of the
scenery, the fresh pure air, cooled by the previous night's rain, and
the sweet scents thrown out by the trees and wild-flowers, the slow
progress of the vehicle and the bumping of one's sides, were forgotten.
"Lorette was originally a colony of Christianized Huron Indians, to
whom lands were granted by the French. The village is now principally
inhabited by whites and half-breeds, though there are some of the pure
race left - the men wearing European dresses, the women adhering to the
ancient costume. Their cottages are generally neat and clean. Andre
Romain, the chief, resides in the centre of the village, a high pole
denoting his residence and rank. I found him bending over his simple
dinner of milk and coarse bread. He was dressed in old, and somewhat
ragged, garments. He seemed so extremely old, that I did not trouble
him with more than a very short conversation, in French. He showed me a
portrait of George IV., given to him, he said, from the hands of that
monarch, and a coloured engraving of the installation of one of the
royal princes as chief of the Hurons.
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