The Coolidge examiner., 1931-07-10


crevices of rock, crawling with
their faces against the earth, max
ing their way foot by foot. 81 am
afraid you cannot do it." Wolfe
had said, looking at the pitlike
blackness above. But they did.
NameIess in history, they de-
stroyed the old map of the world
and put another in its place. In
that hour twenty-four men ruined
France, gave rise to a greater Eng
land, created a new nation.
At the top, Vergor. the French
officer, slept sOundly with his
guards. To him fate might have
given the glory of keeping the old
map intact. But he was killed be-
fore he could wipe the daze of
slumber from his eyes. Wolfe's
path was made. and like a thin
stream of red ants the British con-
tinued to ascend the trail which
had been blazed for them.
VaudreuiI, the governor, the
archvillain who lost half conti-
nent for France, lay in his cOzy
nest of iniquity a short distance
away dreaming of sensual days
with the taithless Madame de
Paean and planning a future with
the kings own mistress. La Pom
padOur. Across the st. Charles. ex-
pecting the British in different
direction, SleepleSs, worn. robbed
of every chance to win by the weak
ness and imbecility of this favorite
Of a kings mistress, was Mont
calm.
Jeems was with the battalion of
Guienne which had come UP from
its camp on the St Charles at six
o'clock in the morning, it's white
uniforms thrOnging the ridge of
ButteS-a-NeveG. from which it be-
held the British molehill growing
into a mountain.
About him JeemS saw the Plains
of Abraham, and a strange song
was in his heart as he thought
that TOinette had been of this soil
and that her great-great- grand
father had given name to the earth
soon to run red with blood. The
Plains were wide and level in most
parts, with bushes and trees and
cornfields dotting them here and
there. They were the front yard
to Quebec, a field of destiny lying
between the precipitous descents
to the st. Lawrence on one side
and the snakelike. lazy st. Charles
on the other, with world of
splendid terrain spreading in
panorama under the eyes.
AS he lay watching with the
men of Guienne, Jeems could
scarcely have guessed that this
scene of pastoral beauty was the
stage upon which one of the epic
tragedies of all time was about to
be enacted. A feeling of rest pos
sesSed him. as if period had
come to mark the end of the con-
fusion and unhappiness which had
held him a victim for three years,
and he felt mysteriously near the
presence of influences he could not
see. He was q product of times
VIXEN faith in the spiritual guild
ance of the affairs of men was
strong. and it was not difficult for
him to conceive that Toinette
was close at his side, whispering
in words which only his soul could
heIr that he had come home.
Six O'Clock grew into seven.
seven into eight, and eight into
nine. In front of him England was
forming. Behind him, tricked and
Outgeneraled. Montcalm was rush
ing in mad haste across the ST.
Charles bridge and under the
northern rampant of Quebec to en-
ter the city through the Palace
gate. AT the edge of the Plains of
Abraham the boyish Wolfe. poet
and philosopher, was preparing
for glory or doom. In the quaint,
narrow streets of the town were
gathering hOrdes of Indians in
scalp locks and war paint, troops
of starved and cheated Canadians
ready TO make a last stand for
their homes, battalions of Old
France in white uniforms and with
cleaning bayonets, battle-scarred
veterans of Sarre and Languedoc
and ROussillOn and Bearn. fed on
meager ratiOns for weeks but
eager TO fight for Montcalm.
Ahead where Jeems was looking
were quiet and order and the stole
sureness of England's morale. Be
hind were courage and chivalry
and the iron Sinews of heroes in
the throes of excitement and un-
disciplined rush.
Jeems saw none of this and
nothing beyond the distant red
lines. The Plains lay in sunshine,
with bird wings flashing, crows
feeding in the cornfelds. The
earth was great oriental rug
warm with autumn tintings, the
woods yellow and gold in a frame
about it The guns of Samos, of
Sillery, of the boats in the river
made sleepy detonations, and on
the rise of -Neveu Jeems
might have slept IulIed by that
never-ending monotony of sound.
the warmth of the sun, the blue of
the sky. the stiffness of the Plains.
He closed his eyes, and the silver
and gold mists of sunsets rose
about him. the ends of days in
which he saw the Plains peopled
again, first by Abraham Martin
and his cows a hundred and thirty
four years before, then by Toi-
nette. his father and mother, Hep
Sibah AdamS-and himself. Here