'A shot shattered his wrist. He wrapped his handkerchief
about it and kept on. Another shot struck him, and he still advanced,
when a third lodged in his breast. He staggered, and sat on the ground.
Lieutenant Brown, of the grenadiers, one Henderson, a volunteer in the
same company, and a private soldier, aided by an officer of artillery
who ran to join them, carried him in their arms to the rear. He begged
them to lay him down. They did so, and asked if he would have a surgeon.
"There's no need," he answered; "it's all over with me." A moment after,
one of them cried out, "They run; see how they run!" "Who run?" Wolfe
demanded, like a man roused from sleep. "The enemy, sir. They give way
everywhere!" "Go, one of you, to Colonel Burton," returned the dying
man; "tell him to march Webb's regiment down to Charles River, to cut
off their retreat from the bridge." Then, turning on his side, he
murmured, "Now, God be praised, I will die in peace!" and in a few
moments his gallant soul had fled.
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