CHAPTER VI. It will now be advisable to consider the state of the two great rival races on the North American continent, before entering upon the relation of the eventful campaign which was but the crisis of a surely approaching fate. Although the decisive blow that forever crushed the power of France was doubtless dealt by the immortal Wolfe upon the Plains of Abraham, the slow but certain conquest of Canada had progressed for many a previous year; with the wisdom and rectitude of the counselor, with the ax and plow of the settler, with the thrift and adventure of the merchant, with the sober industry of the mechanic, and the daring hardihood of the fisherman, was the glorious battle won. Against weapons such as these the chivalry of Montcalm and of his splendid veteran regiments vainly strove. To them victory brought glory without gain, inaction danger, and disaster ruin. Despite their courage, activity, and skill, the rude but vigorous British population, like surging waves, gained rapidly on every side, and at length burst the opposing barriers of military organization, and poured in a broad flood over the dreary level of an oppressed and spiritless land. In the year 1759, the population of Canada had only reached to 60,000 souls, and it was found to have decreased during the last twenty years of war and want; of these, 6700 dwelt under the protection of the ramparts of Quebec, 4000 at Montreal, and 1500 at the little town of Three Rivers. The greater part of the remainder led a rural life on the fertile banks of the St. Lawrence and its tributaries, while a few wandered with gun and rod among Indian tribes scarcely more savage than themselves, over the prairies, and on the shores of the great lakes and rivers of the West. The settlements on both shores below Quebec were then almost as advanced as now: small white houses, dainty in the distance, stretched in rows for many miles along the level banks, or dotted the hill side in picturesque irregularity. Here and there, neat wooden churches, of a peculiarly quaint architecture, stood the centers of hamlets and knots of farms. In their neighborhood this encumbering forest was usually cleared away with careful industry, and each fertile nook and valley, and the borders of each stream, were rich with waving corn. Through these lower settlements a sort of rude track extended for many miles by the water side. On the large and beautiful island of Orleans many thousand acres of corn and pulse were sown, the farms carefully separated by wooden paling, and intersected with tolerable roads.