Less than three minutes before Montcalm's fall, Wolfe had received a third bullet wound--this time in the left breast. He leant upon the arm of the nearest officer, saying, "Support me--do not let my brave fellows see me fall. The day is ours--keep it." He was at once carried to the rear. Hearing some one giving directions to fetch a surgeon, he murmured, "It is useless--all is over with me." As his life ebbed away he heard a voice exclaim "They run, they run!" The words inspired him with temporary animation. Slightly raising his head he asked, "Who--who run?" "The enemy, sir," was the reply; "they give way everywhere." Summoning his fast-fleeting strength, he rejoined, "Go, one of you, to Colonel Burton. Tell him to march Webb's regiment with all speed down to Charles River to cut off the retreat." His head then sank, and turning slightly on one side, as in a heavy sleep, he was heard to murmur, "Now, God be praised, I die in peace." And thus died all that was mortal of James Wolfe. [Footnote: There are various accounts extant of this closing scene in Wolfe's life, all professing to come more or less directly from eye-witnesses. No two of them agree in all points, and one of them states that the General never uttered a syllable after he was carried to the rear. The above is the version generally accepted by historians, and is supported by the testimony of the most trustworthy of those who were present at the scene.] Everybody knows the rest of the story; how M. de Bougainville appeared on the field too late to be of any service; how, seeing what had befallen, he retreated again to Cape Rouge; how the Marquis de Vaudreuil, the Governor, and his 1,300 Canadians deserted the lines below Quebec, and made what haste they could to Montreal; how the beleagured garrison, reduced by famine and slaughter, capitulated on the fifth day after the battle; how a year afterwards Canada was surrendered to the British Crown; and how the surrender was ratified by the Treaty of Paris on the 10th of February, 1763. And Montcalm. He had his wish, expressed shortly after he received his death-wound, and did not live to see the surrender of the city which he had defended so bravely. The story of his life and death has been told at length in a previous sketch. At present it is sufficient to day that he died on the day following the battle, and that he was buried within the precincts of the Ursuline Convent, on Garden street, Quebec. The British loss on the Plains of Abraham consisted of 59 killed and 597 wounded. The French loss was much greater, amounting to about 600 killed and more than 1,000 wounded and taken prisoners. The death-roll seems wonderfully small when compared with the carnage in many fields famous in history; but, judged by its results and all the attendant circumstances, the battle may very properly be numbered among the decisive conflicts of the world.