One young woman danced a Kangaroo dance and the Captain wept and all the stewards stood in a line and grinned.
I sing Chevalier's songs and they all sit in the dining room below and forget to lay out the plates and last night some of the Royal Berkshire with whom I dined at Malta came on board and after hearing the Old Kent Road were on the point of Mutiny and refused to return to barracks.
Great is the Power of Chevalier and great is his power for taking you back to London with three opening bars.

Malta was the queerest place I ever got into.

It was like a city, country and island made of cheese, mouldy cheese, and fresh limburger cheese with holes in it.

You sailed right up to the front door as it were and people were hanging out of the windows smoking pipes and looking down on the deck as complacently as though having an ocean steamer in the yard was as much a matter of course as a perambulator.

There were also women with black hoods which they wear as a penance because long ago the ladies of Malta got themselves talked about.