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.
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