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Bas. We stood off during the night about W. N. W. blowing very hard. The next morning we bore up for Falmouth, at about six o'clock. By our reckoning at noon, the Lizard we imagined N. by W. eight or ten miles. At one we saw the land, which I think must have been Cudden Point. We wore immediately, and steered S. E. by E. About three the captain thought proper to wear, and stand in to make the land again. We did not stand in more than ten minutes, then wore once more, and stood out about S. S. E. or S. by E. At four we saw land close aboard, and nearly right a-head, which we perceived to be the Lizard. Wo immediately wore and hauled to the wind on the larboard tack; stood on for about half an hour, then furled every thing, and let go the best bower. She took the cable entirely to the clench, but rode by it till four the next morning-it then parted. We let go the small bower, which brought her up to the clench also. By this cable we rode till seven, or half past, when it was resolved to run her on shore."

The following more detailed account is from another source:"His majesty's ship Anson, of 40 guns, Captain Lydiard, after completing her stores of all kinds for a four months' cruise, sailed from Falmouth on the 24th of December, to resume her station off Brest. It coming on to blow from the W. S. W. she was never able to get so far to the westward; however, Captain Lydiard persevered in his endeavours until the 28th. On the morning of that day she made the Isle de Bas, on the French coast, when the gale increasing, with every appearance of bad weather, Captain Lydiard determined to return to port, and accordingly shaped a course for the Lizard, the weather coming on very hazy, with an increasing gale. About three P. M. the land was seen about five miles west of the Lizard, but at the time not exactly known, as many opinions were expressed as to what land it was then in sight, the ship was wore to stand off at sea, but had not long been on that tack before the land was again descried right a-head; it was now quite certain that the ship was embayed, and every exertion was made to work her off the shore, but finding she lost ground every tack, she was brought to an anchor in twenty-five fathoms, at five P. M. with the best bower anchor veered away to two cables length; by this anchor the ship rode in a most tremendous sea, and as heavy a gale as was ever experienced, until four A. M. of the 29th, when the cable parted. The small bower anchor was then let go, and veered away to two cables length, which held her until eight A. M. when that also

parted; and, as the last resource, in order to preserve the lives of as many as possible, the fore-top-sail was set, and the ship run on shore on the sand, which forms the bar between the Loe Pool (about three miles from Helstone) and the sea. The tide had ebbed about an hour when she struck on taking the ground she broached-to with her broadside to the beach, and most happily heeled in to the shore (had she, on the contrary, heeled off, not a soul could have escaped alive). Now commenced a most heartrending scene to some hundreds of spectators, who had been in anxious suspense, and who exerted themselves to the utmost, at the imminent risk of their lives, to save those of their drowning fellow men; many of those who were most forward in quitting the ship lost their lives, being swept away by the tremendous sea, which entirely went over the wreck. The main mast formed a Boating raft from the ship to the shore; and the greater part of those who escaped, passed by this medium. One of the men saved, reports, that Capt. Lydiard was near him on the main mast; but he seemed to have lost the use of his faculties with the horror of the scene, and soon disappeared. At a time when no one appeared on the ship's side, and it was supposed the work of death had ceased, a methodist preacher, venturing his life through the surf, got on board over the wreck of the main mast, to see if any more remained; some honest hearts followed him. They found several persons still below, who could not get up; among whom were two women and two children. The worthy preacher and his party saved the two women, and some of the men, but the children were lost. About two P. M. the ship went to pieces; when a few more men emerged from the wreck. One of these was saved. By three o'clock no appearance of the vessel remained. The men who survived were conveyed to Helston, about two miles distant, where they were taken care of by the magistrates, and afterwards sent to Falmouth, in charge of the regulating captain at that port. Of the missing, we understand many are deserters, who scampered off as soon as they reached the shore. Among the officers saved, are Captain Sullivan, a passenger; Messrs. Hill and Brailey, midshipmen; Mr. Ross, assistant surgeon; and some others."

LOSS OF THE AMICUS.

THE subjoined interesting account of the loss of the Amicus is copied from a provincial paper:

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"At four o'clock on Tuesday morning the 8th of December, it blowing a tremendous gale of wind, with a heavy snow, the ship Amicus, Captain Simpson, of Hall, from Petersburg, with hemp, flax, tallow, &c. struck on the Holderness coast, half a mile to the S. of the Sister Churches. At twelve o'clock, the captain, who was an excellent swimmer, committed himself to the waves, with a rope, hoping to be able to gain the shore, but was overwhelmed by the breakers, and perished in the attempt.The mate, and another of the crew, followed his example, and met with a similar fate. The remaining part of the ship's company were seen clinging to the rigging and wreck, by numerous spectators. After several ineffectual attempts, Mr. Giles had recourse to the following:-he procured a leaden half pound weight, and making a hole through it, he fastened it to a long piece of whip-cord, and selected from the spectators the most athletic man, to cast it at the wreck. After many fruitless trials, the man, following a receding wave, succeeded in throwing it across the vessel. The carpenter fastened the cord round his arm, was dragged through the surf to the shore, apparently lifeless, but afterwards recovered: the cord was again cast, and a boy was rescued from the vessel in the same manner. After this, a person named John Greensides, notwithstanding the heavy surf, rushed through it to the vessel, and though he was hidden repeatedly from the view of the spectators by tremendous waves, and could not swim, succeeded in gaining the wreck, and brought to land another boy; in his passage to the shore he was twice thrown down by the violence of the back water. He again returned to the wreck, and at the hazard of his own, saved the life of another seaman. At six o'clock, four persons ventured through the waves to the ship, and brought away two others, who died shortly after their gaining the shore. The bodies of the captain and mate have been washed ashore."

LOSS OF THE AMERICAN SHIP GOLDEN RULE.

THE following account of the loss of this ship, and of the sufferings of her crew, has been received from one of the pas sengers:

"The ship Golden Rule, Captain ustin, sailed from Wil

casset, with a cargo of timber, Sept. 8. On the 29th of the same month she experienced a severe gale from the S. E. and at eight o'clock, A. M. we discovered she had sprung a leak, and had four feet water in her hold; at nine it had increased to eight feet, notwithstanding we had two pumps going, and were throwing her deck load overboard, which we were enabled to do very slowly, from the sea driving the planks about the deck, and wounding the crew. About ten o'clock the water had increased to twelve feet, and the gale had evidently increased; the crew and all on board were quite exhausted, and, going into the cabin, we found she was welling fast. The main and mizen masts were now cut away, to prevent her upsetting, and she was quite clear of her deck load. At eleven o'clock she was full up to her main deck, and all her bulk heads were knocked away. It now occurred to us to endeavour to save some bread, and Mr. Boyd, the first mate, with great resolution, went into the cabin, and gave out some bread and two bottles of rum; but so rapidly did she fill, from the timber of her cargo shifting, that he was forced to break through the sky-light to save himself. Our small stock of provisions was now put into the binnacle, as a secure place. It had been there but a few minutes, when a tremendous sea struck us, and carried away the binnacle. We had now little hope left-the wheel was broke, and we proceeded to secure ourselves as well as we could, some in the foretop, and the rest were lashing themselves to the taffrail; before we could accomplish the latter plan, another sea, if possible more heavy than the former, hurried us all from our places, and washed two of our poor men overboard; they were seen swimming for the ship a short time, when a wave buried them from our sight. We now endeavoured to keep the ship before the wind, which we wer enabled partially to do through the night. The next day another of our men died from cold and hunger. The ship's deck was now blown up, and her side stove in, and we had all given ourselves up when, on Thursday at noon, we were roused by the cry "A sail!" and we had the satisfaction to see her bear down for us; about three o'clock she came alongside; she was the brig George, of Portland, and Captain Wildridge sent his long boat, and took us from the wreck."

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60

Naval Poetry.

The heart's remote recesses to explore,

And touch its springs, when Prose avail'd no more. FALCONER.

CLARA,

THE MANIAC.

OLD was the gale; night's pensive queen withdrew,
OLD was the galt, miga's ple mantle threw

When hapless CLARA wander'd o'er the plain,
Chill'd by the wind, and wet with drizzling rain:
Her garments torn, her tresses all unbound,
Her tender feet deform'd with many a wound:
Swift to the well-known beach she sped her way-
What are thy thoughts? O child of sorrow! say,
Why heaves that bosom with the rending sigh?
Why holds despair her empire in that eye?
Ah! have her icy fangs benumb'd thy soul,
And startled reason own'd the dire controul?
'Tis so convulsive throbs the anguish'd breast,
The dove of peace has flown its fav'rite nest;
Where erst, with love and innocence serene,
That o'er the mind's horizon lucid beam
The cherish'd guest a magic charm diffus'd,
And hope o'er fancy's vision'd rainbow mus'd,
Transient as sweet :-Behold! th' illusion bright,
At fate's stern frown fades in Cimmerian night.
But, hush! what sadly murm'ring 'plaints are these,
That woo a passport from the sighing brecze;
While cavern'd echoes round the rocky shore,
Whisp'ring, repeat the plaintive accents o'er,
And shell-crown'd naiads, list'ning to the strain,
Forget their sparry grots, and sport beneath the main.
"Ah, see! how wild the dashing billows rise,
And, mad with insolence, provoke the skies:
That vessel hanging on the dizzy height-
Now-horror! vanish'd from my aching sight!

Heard you those moans? Was it my soul's ador'd?

What! sinking 'midst the wreck, my fond heart's lord?

Thy Clara's here! Why, thou infuriate wave→→→

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My Henry yet thy giant crush shall brave,

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