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THOSE peripatetic philosophers who make up the British Association for the Advancement of Science, have this year chosen Southampton as the centre for the gathering of the sages. We admire their taste. Indeed it would be difficult to choose a pleasanter trip for an autumn week's holiday, than the Hampshire coast now offers. There is the Southampton river, with its water just rippled enough for a gentle sail, but not rough enough to discompose unpractised mariners. There is Netley Abbey, with its romantic ruins, and the New Forest, with its pleasant rides, all easily accesible. And for bolder adventurers there is the Isle of Wight, with its thousand beauties to explore. Of course all this is independent of the intellectual treats which the sections of the Association itself are to provide. But to do its members justice, they have always shown great skill in combining the " Utile" with the "Dulce." The gravest of its professors have betrayed no scorn of the concert or the ballroom. The feast of reason and the flow of soul " have never been found incompatible with somewhat more earthly banquetings; and the sagest explorers of the realms of science have been the merriest on the excursion parties that have been planned at previous meetings near Cambridge, York and elsewhere.
There is a glorious programme for this year's meeting, but there are somewhat ominous hints of a falling off in funds. We regret to hear this; and being resolved to contribute liberally, we have prepared the following
Inaugural Ode on the Meeting of the British Association at Southampton, 1846.
Air.—" Sure such a day so renowned and so glorious."
Run to Nine Elms—take your tickets at the station there-
Science and Southampton now are all the go.
See, there goes a special to join th' Association there :
Four-and-twenty wise men all of a row.
There's great Professor Storfancoff, the Muscovite geologist;
Baron Periwinkle, the Bavarian conchologist;
Doctors Gubb and Guffry (a'nt you glad that you have seen the two ?) With their brains all full of fossils, and one carpet-bag between the two. See, there comes Herr Schinbehind, who great about caloric is :
He's in a rage at being late, and very broad his Doric is.
Run, neighbours, run, to where the Hampshire tree of knowledge is
Planted for a week for a raree-show.
Big-wigs from Germany, great guns from foreign colleges,
Are with our English Solomons all in a row.
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