THE following narrative of the wreck of H.M.S. Anson will, we doubt not, be read with interest. Certainly, it is not a recent occurrence; but there are incidents in it, as in many others of a similar character, which are deserving of being placed on record— acts, which, as they appeal to sympathies and feelings that are innate in the human breast, are sure everywhere and through all times to awaken attention and command admiration.

The calm bravery and self-possession of the gallant Captain of the Anson; the daring courage of Mr. ROBERTS, and of the brave men who made similar though unsuccessful efforts to reach the ill-fated vessel; the heroism of the Wesleyan minister and those who accompanied him to the wreck—alike are deserving of being held up for imitation, and of being recorded to the honour of themselves and of the village of Helstone, the place of their abode.

" The year 1807 was most disastrous to the British Navy; during that period we lost no less than 29 ships of war, and, unhappily, the greater part of their crews. Some of these vessels foundered at sea, others were wrecked, or accidentally burnt, and it was at the close of this eventful year, that a calamity occurred which equalled, if it did not surpass, any previous disaster.

" The Anson, of 40 guns, under the command of Capt. CHARLES LYDIARD, after completing her stores for a few months' cruize, sailed from Falmouth on the 24th December, to resume her station off Brest.

The wind was adverse, blowing very hard from the W.S.W. until the morning of the 28th, when Captain LYDIARD made the Island of Bas, on the French coast. As the gale was increasing, rather than subsiding, he determined to return to port, and accordingly shaped his course for the Lizard. At 3 o' clock, P.M., land was discovered, apparently about five miles west of the Lizard, but owing to the thickness of the fog, there was a difference of opinion as to the land that was seen, and therefore the ship was wore to stand out to sea. She had not been long on this track before land was descried right ahead.

" It was now evident that their position was extremely dangerous,—the ship was completely embayed, and the wind raged with increasing fury. Every exertion was made to keep the Anson off shore, but without success, and it was not until she was fearfully near to the rocks, that she could be brought to an anchor, in 25 fathoms, with the best bower anchor veered away to two cables' length. The top-gallant masts were lowered upon deck, and in this state she rode from 5 o'clock, P.M., when she anchored, till 4 o'clock the next morning, when the cable suddenly parted. During the night the gale was tremendous, and the sea rose mountains high; they had nothing now to depend upon for the safety of the ship but a small bower anchor, which was immediately let go, and this held until eight o'clock, when it also parted. The ship was no longer an object of consideration; Captain LYDIARD felt that he had done his utmost to save her, but in vain, and that now every energy must be put forth for the preservation of human life. The tempest raged with such fury that no boat could possibly come to their aid, nor could the strongest swimmer hope to gain the shore. It appeared to Captain LYDIARD that the only chance of escape of any of the crew was in running the ship as near the coast as possible.

He gave the necessary orders, and the master ran the vessel on the sand which forms the bar between the Loe Pool and the sea, about three miles from Helstone.

The tide had been ebbing nearly an hour when she took the ground, and she broached to, leaving her broadside heeling over, and facing the beach.

" The scene of horror and confusion which ensued on the Anson striking against the ground, was one which baffles all description.

Many of the men were washed away by the tremendous sea which swept over the deck ; many others were killed by the falling of the spars, the crashing sound of which, as they fell from aloft, mingled with the shrieks of the women on board, was heard even amidst the roar of the waters and the howling of the winds. The coast was lined with crowds of spectators, who watched with an intense and painful interest the gradual approach of the ill-fated vessel towards the shore, and witnessed the subsequent melancholy catastrophe.

" Calm and undaunted amidst the terrors of the scene, Captain LYDIARD is described as displaying in a remarkable degree the selfpossession and passive heroism, which has been so often the proud characteristic of the commander of a British ship of war under similar harassing circumstances. Notwithstanding the confusion of the scene, his voice was heard, and his orders were obeyed with that habitual deference, which, even in danger and in death, an English seaman rarely fails to accord to his commanding officer.

" He was the first to restore order, to assist the wounded, to encourage the timid, and to revive expiring hope. Most providentially, when the vessel struck, the mainmast, in falling overboard, served to form a communication between the ship and the shore, and Captain LYDIAKD was the first to point out this circumstance to the crew. Clinging with his arm to the wheel of the rudder, in order to prevent his being washed overboard by the waves, he continued to encourage one after another as they made the perilous attempt to reach the shore. It was fated that this gallant officer should not enjoy in this world the reward of his humanity and his heroism. After watching with thankfulness, the escape of many of his men, and having seen with horror many others washed off the mast, in their attempts to reach the land, he was about to undertake the dangerous passage himself, when he was attracted by the cries of a person seemingly in an agony of terror. The brave man did not hesitate for a moment, but turned, and made his way to the place whence the cries proceeded : there he found a boy, a protege of his own, whom he had entered on board the Anson only a few months before, clinging in despair to a part of the wreck, and without either strength or courage to make the least effort for his own preservation. Captain LYDIARD'S resolution was instantly taken,— he would save the lad, if possible, though he might himself perish in the attempt. He threw one arm round the boy, whilst he cheered him by words of kind encouragement ; with the other arm he clung to the spars and mast to support himself and his burthen. But the struggle did not last long ; nature was exhausted by the mental and physical sufferings he had endured ; he lost his hold, not of the boy, but of the mast; the wild waves swept over them, and they perished together.

" It must not be supposed that the people on the shore were unconcerned spectators of the fearful tragedy that was enacted before their eyes. British fishermen are proverbial for their daring and intrepidity. Inured from childhood to the dangers and hardships attendant on the perilous calling, with very few exceptions our fishermen have always been ready to succour the wrecked and tempest-tossed mariner. There is not, we believe, a fishing-village between the Land's End and the Orkneys, that cannot produce its true heroes—men who have risked, and are willing again to risk, their own lives to save others. Our fisheries are the best nurseries for our navy. Englishmen may be justly proud of the boatmen, from amongst whom spring those ' hearts of oak,' which have so long rendered our fleet pre-eminent over those of every other country in the world. But, beside the generous disposition to assist any perishing fellow-creature, there were, in this instance, more powerful motives to exert every effort to save the crew of the Anson. This ship had been stationed for some time at or near Falmouth, so that acquaintances, friendships, and still dearer ties, had been formed between the inhabitants of the neighbouring towns and village and the people of the unfortunate vessel. But a few days before they had witnessed a far different scene; when she left their shores in all the pride of a well-ordered and well-disciplined man-of-war, amidst the shouts, and cheers, and blessings of the multitude, who now beheld her lying within a few fathoms of them a helpless wreck; her masts gone, her bulwarks broken in, the waves sweeping over her, and breaking up her timbers.

"The surf ran so high that it was impossible that any boat could reach the wreck.

The life-boat, in 1807, had not been brought to the state of perfection it has attained in our day; and the many inventions which science and art have since introduced for the preservation of life, were for the most part unknown in the times of which we are now writing.

" Several men attempted to swim to the ship, but without success; they were all, one after another, cast back exhausted upon the beach, and many of them without sense or motion. At last, when there seemed no hope left of affording aid to the sufferers, Mr. ROBERTS, of Helstone, seized hold of a rope, and boldly struck out in the direction of the Anson. He was a powerful swimmer and his courageous efforts were watched from the shore and from the wreck with intense interest, and many an heartfelt prayer was breathed for his safety and success.

Tossed on the foaming waters, at one moment lost to sight, and almost suffocated in the spray, and at another rising on the top of a huge wave, he at last reached the ship, and was hailed as a deliverer by those who were still clinging to the spars and rigging.

The rope which Mr. ROBERTS had taken with him was made fast to the wreck, and this formed a communication with the shore, by which many a poor fellow was saved who must otherwise have perished.

" Another instance of heroic self-devotion was exhibited by a Wesleyan Methodist preacher, a little later in the day, when, as no one appeared on the ship's side, it was supposed that every one had either come on shore or had been drowned; but this brave and good man thought that there might be some still left on board who were unable to make an effort to save themselves, and, under this impression, he ventured his life through the surf, followed by a few other daring spirits like himself. With great difficulty they gained the wreck, where, as they had anticipated, they found several persons lying below, all too much exhausted to get upon deck. Some, in terror and despair, called upon God for mercy; others, in hopeful trust, seemed resigned to their fate; and others were so weak as to be indifferent to the horrors around them. Two women and two children were of the number. The preacher and his gallant comrades had the happiness of saving the women, and some of the men, but the children were lost.

" Sixty men, amongst whom were Captain LYDIARD and his First-Lieutenant, perished.".