disaster it occasions is almost always varied with instances of individual sympathy for some of the wrecked. We were now joined by the resident officer of the coast-blockade, and a party of men were dispatched to pull off to the ship in distress, while the rest of us hurried towards the Torhead, accompanied in our rear, (for the news had reached the village) by a turn-out of most of its inhabitants, influenced both by the passion of curiosity and that of expected plunder. Many of the older class looked upon wrecking as legitimate a trade as fishing for herrings or pilchards; while perhaps nearly all from the force of habit and long-practised example, regarded a wreck as a booty sent them by the elements; the scattered contents of which it was no more crime to take than it would be to pick up any other thing cast by accident on the beach.

The sea was breaking over the needles with frightful violence when we reached Torhead—the spray dashing almost to the summit of the cliffs. We were now almost opposite the vessel, which appeared to be French built; but the increasing darkness prevented our distinguishing her minutely. The, flash of a gun from her side, amidst the deepening gloom, redoubled my interest. A more interesting object than a solitary vessel in danger, I cannot well conceive. I have always looked upon a ship as a living creature—the companion of man—a thing instinct with life, walking the waters—and our feelings are not only excited for the safety of the crew, but for that of the vessel itself, to which we attach a degree of interest as for a friend. A gale was now up; the boat put off to their aid was in danger of being swamped by the surf, and found it impracticable to make way against a violent head-wind and tide united. Nothing short of a miracle could now save the ship; however the wind suddenly shifted a little, and I began to hope that if she was to be wrecked, it might be farther on the shore; as in case of her striking on the Needles, she must almost immediately go to pieces under our eyes, without the most remote chance of the escape of one of the crew. A sheet of light flashed occasionally from her sides, calling for aid out of the power of man to grant. There was a sudden lull in the wind, which sometimes happens in the most violent tempests, though often succeeded by increased fury; and a strong shower of sleet and rain drove most of our followers home. As it had now become quite dark, and it was morally impossible to yield the ship any aid till daylight, I returned to the village with melancholy forebodings, having placed beacons on the heights.

I hastily proceeded again to the shore just before daybreak. The distant moaning of the sea, the harsh screams of the cormorants with the desolate nature of the spot, chilled my spirits. I had passed a sleepless night, and the storm rose again, and raged till near daybreak with increased fury, but the wind was now greatly hushed. The sea, however, showed marks of its violence; the bay was white with foam, and as I proceeded, the tide, which was just beginning to flow, roared loudly, and advanced in short breakers wreathed with spray. The sky also looked dismally, and gave token that the gale had not entirely passed away, though its violence had temporarily abated. I advanced with deep interest by the peaked group of rocks, and passed the wreck of a brig lying high and dry on the sand just before me. The whole of the shore between the Heads, was strewed with her contents. I never witnessed so total a wreck in so short a space of time. The violence of the surf had completely beaten her sides out, leaving stem and stern hanging together as by a thread, while her ribs and broken cordage and sails, completed the picture, had any thing been wanting to perfect it. I could moralize any day on a single bit of plank on a shore—each fragment seems to tell its tale, and awakens a train of thoughts and feelings in the mind; but "grim desolation" was here visibly before me.

Though I was early astir, I found that the prospect of booty had been sufficiently powerful already to draw out not only the inhabitants of Torwich, but great numbers of the neighbouring peasantry. But where was the ship, about whose fate we had been so greatly interested the preceding evening? This was manifestly not her; but I distinctly saw a large, black hull lying under the western cliffs, half a mile distant, towards which the people were rapidly moving. She had come ashore a little after high water, during the night. I picked my way through the wreck strewn around—to a small group of persons standing near me; five of them were strangers, the crew of the brig. I learnt that my surmises were right concerning the ship in the distance, and that the brig which was laden with crockery came ashore about the same period.

I left these poor fellows endeavouring to rescue their little articles of property, and took a route apart from the course of the crowd towards the other ship. I had not gone far, when I almost stumbled over the dead body of a young female, lying with her face uppermost, half buried in the sand—

The bodies of a gentleman of foreign aspect, and that of a lad about seventeen, (their hands still firmly clasped together, undivided even in death,) lay close by. It was a melancholy scene. They had evidently been a father and his children. The long boat of the vessel, which had I suppose, taken ground here, being staved and swamped by the surf, was close beyond, near which I observed the bodies of several other men. It was with pain and horror I remarked that some wretches who had been here before me, had partly stripped the bodies of the lady and others in their search after plunder, besides rifling the contents of some cases of valuables, which had been put into the boat. I hastily turned towards the principal scene of disaster, and addressed myself to one of the survivors, whom I found to be the supercargo. The vessel was La Bonne Esperance of Brest, of 550 tons, homeward bound, with a mixed cargo of rum, cotton, and colonial produce, from the West Indies. It appeared that the captain, mate, and passengers had left the ship just as she struck, and taken to the long boat, the fatal result of which has been seen. As I surmised, the bodies I had seen consisted of one family, the only passengers on board, a colonel in the army, with his son and daughter, returning to his country after long service in foreign parts. The supercargo, in the confusion which took place, could not get into the long boat in time, and remained with the rest of the crew on board; several of the seamen were washed off the decks and dashed against the rocks, and my narrator and three others were all that survived "to tell the tale."

The ship's hull lay jammed between two small rocks near the foot of the cliffs; she was still almost outwardly entire, as the tide receded just after she came ashore in the night; but there was a hole knocked in her side from whence a portion of the cargo had been washed out. The two principal masts had gone by the board, but a part of the mizen-mast was still standing; and the rocks were covered, far and near, with tattered portions of her sails and cordage pasted against their sides, disposed by the sea, in a grotesque manner.

As the principal station of the preventive corps was at a considerable distance, some time would elapse before they could lend their aid in the protection of the property; and the mob from the neighbouring country, disappointed at finding little else but broken crockery at the other wreck, seemed disposed to make the most of their time, and were proceeding with all the violence and rapacity of professed wreckers. In spite of the exertions of the officer from Torwich and his assistants, they were mounting the sides, and had spread themselves over the vessel like a pack of hungry wolves on the dead carcass of a horse, when I arrived. A scene of greater confusion and singularity cannot be described.