battalion of superior persons. You see, the Kangaroo Marines were nominally a Sydney crowd. Therefore the Melbourne boys showered on them all the envy which Melbourne has for Sydney. To understand this point thoroughly you must have lived in Australia. Between Melbourne and Sydney there exists a feud as fierce as an Italian vendetta. This animosity crystallises the more general hatred of the respective States—Victoria and New South Wales. Both sides think they are the Lord's Anointed. A Governor-General in any speech must be careful to whitewash both States with the same degree of eyewash. Friendships, fortunes, and reputations have been lost in this really amusing controversy.  Indeed, they are like the farmers of Kerry—they go to law if a hen roosts for a second in the enemy's barnyard. 

 Picture the scene then—two corps side by side, and imagine the language. The first trouble arose through a pioneer of the Kangaroos dropping a shovelful of dirt in the lines of the Melbourne men. The offender was Bill Buster. 

 "Get out of this, ye Sydney rattlesnake," chirped a youth, looking out of his tent. 

 "Worm!" exclaimed Bill contemptuously. 

 "Ye dirty-necked beachcomber, I'll split yer pumpkin head." 

 "Take that," shouted Bill, throwing a shovelful of manure into the tent of his aggressor. Honour, of course, had to be satisfied after that. The Melbourne man got a broken nose, and Bill had two lovely black eyes. 

 Both regiments decided to have revenge, and, for that purpose, secret meetings were called. The Melbourne boys decided to leave their affairs in the hands of Happy Harry, a local comedian. He was given liberty to spend anything up to twenty pounds on a scheme of revenge. In the case of the Kangaroos it was decided by ballot that Bill would plan out something to stagger the Melbourne crowd. Meantime, armed neutrality reigned; yet the air seemed charged with the spirit of friction and the feeling of secret preparation. Remarkable to relate, both schemes panned out on the morning of the same day. The Melbourne Nuts woke up to see, in great, black, varnished letters, across their huge dining-tent, the following: 

 MELBOURNE IS A ONE-EYED TOWN FULL OF SNIVELLING SNOBS, PAWNSHOPS, AND GROG SALOONS. 

 This was a good stroke for the Sydney men, but the Melbourne men had, also, a neat revenge. That morning, an old broken-down donkey was found 

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