ADVANCE, AUSTRALIA!

(_FROM OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT AT THE AGRICULTURAL HALL._)

Need I say that I felt greatly gratified at finding myself attached
to the Victorian Volunteers. I had been present with them in spirit
at the banquets which had greeted their arrival to the Mother Country,
and now I was to have the advantage of actually appearing bodily in
their campaign at Islington. I knew the battle-field well. In years
gone by I had seen many a Balaclava _mêlée_, many a slicing of the
lemon, many a securing of the tent-peg. Nay, further, I had assisted
many a time at "the combined display," when, before a huge audience, a
presentment of war was produced, as unlike the real thing as anything
well could be. But, to return to the Victorians. As they appeared
in their neat uniforms, which included slouch hats, the hearts of a
noble people (represented by occupants of places from ten shillings
downwards) went out to them, and they were greeted with a mighty
shout. The English race recognised the service that was being done.
The Mother thanked her Child. Over the stormy sea had come the
soldiers of the Southern Cross to tell any Britons still remaining in
played-out Europe how war should be waged; how battles should be won.

The numbers of our gallant little body were small; still, we had
enough. Before our appearance "the country" had been arranged. In
the distance, near the southern entrance, were bushes; then, a little
nearer home, a second row; then, nearer still, a canvas erection
representing a fallen tree; then more bushes; and last, the door from
which we had emerged to receive the plaudits of the populace. First,
two of our number (after some slight hesitation) galloped (taking,
without much difficulty, the hedges on their way) towards the south.