for the divine study.  This gentleman, in concert with another, ascertained, in the course of three years, the position and apparent distances of 380 double and triple stars, the result of about 10,000 individual measurements, and for their Memoir, they received the astronomical prize of the French Academy of Sciences.  In the following year, the former individual communicated to the Royal Society the apparent distances and positions of 458 double stars, of which 160 had never before been observed.

[4] We feel as if it were a species of treason to record the fact, that, within the wide range of the British islands, there is only one observatory, and scarcely one, supported by the government!  We say scarcely one, because we believe that some of the instruments in the observatory of Greenwich were purchased out of the private funds of the Royal Society of London.  The observatories of Oxford, Cambridge, Dublin, Edinburgh (except a grant of 2,000_l_.), Armagh, and Glasgow, are all private establishments, to the support of which government contributes nothing.  The consequence of this is, that many of them are in a state of comparative inactivity; and none of them, but that of Dublin, have acquired any celebrity in the astronomical world.  Such, indeed, was the state of practical astronomy in Scotland, that within these few years, a Danish vessel, which arrived at Leith, could not obtain, even in Edinburgh, the time of the day for the purpose of setting its chronometers.—­Q.  Rev.

Of course, our correspondent does not impeach the talent of HERSCHEL; but it is lamentable to reflect that no attempt has been made to repeat or extend the labours of that indefatigable astronomer.—­ED.

* * * * *

THE KELPIE.

A SCOTTISH LEGEND.

(For the Mirror.)

  “Kelpie’s a river demon or a god,”
    Thus say the lexicons; I’ll not belie ’em,
  For though I mind not in the least the nod
    Of these same critics, still I’ll not defy ’em;
  But that you may know more of this same god,
    (Though I can’t sing as Homer sung of Priam,)
  I’ll write a very pretty little poem,
  Of which this present stanza’s but the proem.

  But to begin, for though ’tis rather long,
    My poem I’ll comprise into twelve stanzas,
  Or fourteen at the furthest, if my song
    Don’t run to twenty—­I’ll offend no man, sirs,
  If I can help it.  So now I’m along
    The road, and beg you’ll notice these two lancers,
  Who, on the backs of horses full of mettle
  Hold a dispute, which we’ll leave them to settle,

  While you go with me, reader, kind and good,
    To a small tributary stream from Tweed,
  Which, if you don’t know, as I’m in the mood,
    I’ll do my best to teach you, if you’ll read;
  I’ll introduce you to the stream Glenrude—­
    This name will do—­’twas in a glen—­indeed,
  ’Twas not its proper name—­’twill do quite well,
  Why I choose so to call it I shan’t tell,