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[Page 238]

[care]fully removing the Dust from the Carpets with a Vacuum Cleaner. Nothing could change the Habits of a life time. For forty years, he had clean Carpets at this hour, and now when the most momentous Event in the History of the Empire was taking place, he still cleaned Carpets, and will assuredly go on doing so at Six thirty every morning, until he drops from old age, or the Minneapolis is claimed by a Submarine, when he will probably be found clinging to the Cleaner, and if saved, will repay his preservers by cleaning their Carpets, in like manner. The War outside was no affair of this Man, and like all the other Stewards on board, he took not the smallest Interest in it.

The scene in the Saloon was strange. Some fifty Officers sat down to Breakfast, with the Dishes set forth on printed Menus, and a Steward behind every Table. Iced Melons were laid before us, followed by fried Fish, Eggs and Bacon, and a variety of cold Dishes. Outside, half a dozen Warships, were blazing away for all they were worth. Our Infantry are crossing the Spit, in front of the Salt Lake, under a deadly hail of Shrapnel, whilst his Snipers keep up, an incessant rifle fire; and the endless Procession of Motor Lighters, with their crowded Kharki freights, never stop going and returning to the three chosen Beaches, A, B, and C. From A Beach came a series of explosions, followed by Clouds of black smoke. Someone remarks, 'those cant be Shells, they must be Mines'. This is indeed the case, for the Enemy have laid numerous land Mines, and the first Infantry who landed there, came in for a very hot time. Every now and again, a Shell came whistling overhead, and one knocks off the Funnel on a Destroyer close by. Then a hostile Airman drops a Bomb, which

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