reinforce Bougainville and repulse Wolfe.

The 9th was Wolfe's last Sunday. It was a cheerless,
rainy day; and he almost confessed himself beaten for
good, as he sat writing his last official letter to one
of Pitt's friends, the Earl of Holderness. He dated it,
'On board the _Sutherland_ at anchor off Cap Rouge,
September 9, 1759.' He ended it with gloomy news: 'I am
so far recovered as to be able to do business, but my
constitution is entirely ruined, without the consolation
of having done any considerable service to the state, or
without any prospect of it.'

The very next day, however, he saw his chance. He stood
at Etchemin, on the south shore, two miles above Quebec,
and looked long and earnestly through his telescope at
the Foulon road, a mile and a half away, running up to
the Plains of Abraham from the Anse au Foulon, which has
ever since been called Wolfe's Cove. Then he looked at
the Plains themselves, especially at a spot only one mile
from Quebec, where the flat and open ground formed a
perfect field of battle for his well-drilled regulars.
He knew the Foulon road must be fairly good, because it
was the French line of communication between the Anse au
Foulon and the Beauport camp. The Cove and the nearest
point of the camp were only two miles and a quarter apart,
as the crow flies. But between them rose the tableland
of the Plains, 300 feet above the river. Thus they were
screened from each other, and a surprise at the Cove
might not be found out too soon at the camp.