Just before he quitted England for the last time, he called to take leave of Lord Temple, whom he found sitting with a colleague. The conversation turned on the prospects of the expedition; and some stress being laid on the resistance that might be expected from the numbers and gallantry of the French, Wolfe rose from his chair, and drawing his sword, exclaimed with a loud voice, and in a menacing attitude, that there was nothing to fear; for if he could only come within reach of the enemy, his success was not a matter of doubt, but of certainty. When he left the room the two Ministers looked at each other with astonishment, and agreed, that to entrust so hazardous an expedition to such a braggart, was indeed a fearful experiment. The feeling that at all times appeared uppermost in his mind, was an insatiable appetite for glory, and desire after posthumous fame. He idolized genius either in arts or arms. Even on the day of the attack, while sailing down the St. Lawrence, he read aloud Gray’s Elegy, and observed several times to the officers with him, that he did not know whether he would not rather be the author of that poem than the conqueror of Quebec. In truth his was a noble nature. His feelings were as genuine as they were ardent. He gave the most minute attention to the welfare and comfort of his troops; and instead of maintaining the reserve and stateliness so common with other commanders of that day, his manner was frank and open, and he had a personal knowledge of perhaps every officer in his army. We recollect a respectable veteran, who, after having served under him at Louisburgh and Cape Breton, commanded one of the first detachments that scaled the heights of Abraham. In that exploit Captain ---- was shot through the lungs. On recovering his senses he saw Wolfe standing by his side. Amidst the anxieties of such a critical hour, the General stopped to press the hand of the wounded man--praised his services, encouraged him not to abandon the hope of life--assured him of leave of absence and early promotion; nay more, he desired an aide-de-camp to give a message to that effect to General Monckton, should he himself fall in the action; and, to the credit of General Monckton, the promise was kept. No wonder that these qualities coupled with brilliant success won the hearts of the soldiery: a sort of romance still clings to his name. He is the only British General belonging to the reign of George the Second who can be said to have earned a lasting reputation. Long as this note is, it would be incomplete without some notice of General Townshend. That officer was the son of Charles third Viscount Townshend, and the witty Ethelreda Harrison, and therefore the grandson of Charles second Viscount Townshend, the celebrated colleague of Sir Robert Walpole. He was not loved by either of his parents. His father, a man of dissolute habits, and an unnatural parent, made for him so mean a provision, that on leaving the University he joined the army