INSTALLATION AT OXFORD.

The people of England, happy in their situation, felt none of the storms of war and desolation which ravaged the neighbouring countries; but, enriched by a surprising augmentation of commerce, enjoyed all the security of peace, and all the pleasures of taste and affluence. The university of Oxford having conferred the office of their chancellor, vacant by the death of the earl of Arran, upon another nobleman of equal honour and integrity, namely, the earl of Westmoreland, he made a public entrance into that celebrated seat of learning with great magnificence, and was installed amidst the Encaenia, which were celebrated with such classical elegance of pomp, as might have rivalled the chief Roman festival of the Augustan age. The chancellor elect was attended by a splendid train of the nobility and persons of distinction. The city of Oxford was filled with a vast concourse of strangers. The processions were contrived with taste, and conducted with decorum. The installation was performed with the most striking solemnity. The congratulatory verses and public speeches breathed the spirit of old Rome; and the ceremony was closed by Dr. King, that venerable sage of St. Mary Hall, who pronounced an oration in praise of the new chancellor with all the flow of Tully, animated by the fire of Demosthenes.

We shall conclude the remarkable incidents of this year:*

* In the spring of the year the liberal arts sustained a
lamentable loss in the death of George Frederick Handel, the
most celebrated master in music which this age had produced.
He was by birth a German; but had studied in Italy, and
afterwards settled in England, where he met with the most
favourable reception, and resided above half a century,
universally admired for his stupendous genius in the sublime
parts of musical composition.

One would be apt to imagine, that there was something in the
constitution of the air at this period, which was
particularly unfavourable to old age; inasmuch as, in the
compass of a few months, the following persons, remarkable
for their longevity, died in the kingdom of Scotland.
William Barnes, who had been above seventy years a servant
in the family of Brodie, died there, at the age of one
hundred and nine. Catherine Mackenzie died in Ross-shire, at
the age of one hundred and eighteen. Janet Blair, deceased
at Monemusk, in the shire of Aberdeen, turned of one
hundred and twelve. Alexander Stephens, in Banffshire, at
the age of one hundred and eight. Janet Harper, of
Bainsholes, at the age of one hundred and seven. Daniel
Cameron, in Rannaeh, married when he was turned of one
hundred, and survived his marriage thirty years.

These are detached from the prosecution of the war, with the detail of an event equally surprising and deplorable:—A sloop called the Dolphin, bound from the Canaries to New York, met with such unfavourable weather, that she was detained one hundred and sixty-five days in the passage, and the provision of the ship was altogether expended before the first fifty days were elapsed. The wretched crew had devoured their dog, cat, and all their shoes on board: at length, being reduced to the utmost extremity, they agreed to cast lots for their lives, that the body of him upon whom the lot should fall might serve for some time to support the survivors. The wretched victim was one Antoni Ga-latia, a Spanish gentleman and passenger. Him they shot with a musket; and having cut off his head, threw it overboard; but the entrails and the rest of the carcase they greedily devoured. This horrid banquet having, as it were, fleshed the famished crew, they began to talk of another sacrifice, from which, however, they were diverted by the influence and remonstrances of their captain, who prevailed upon them to be satisfied with a miserable allowance to each per diem, cut from a pair of leather breeches found in the cabin. Upon this calamitous pittance, reinforced with the grass which grew plentifully upon the deck, these poor objects made shift to subsist for twenty days, at the expiration of which they were relieved, and taken on board by one captain Bradshaw, who chanced to fall in with them at sea. By this time the whole crew, consisting of seven men, were so squalid and emaciated, as to exhibit an appearance at once piteous and terrible; and so reduced in point of strength, that it was found necessary to use ropes and tackle for hoisting them from one ship to the other. The circumstance of the lot falling upon the Spaniard, who was the only foreigner on board, encourages a suspicion that foul play was offered to this unfortunate stranger; but the most remarkable part of this whole incident is, that the master and crew could not contrive some sort of tackle to catch fish, with which the sea every where abounds, and which, no doubt, might be caught with the help of a little ingenuity. If implements of this kind were provided in every ship, they would probably prevent all those tragical events at sea that are occasioned by famine.