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The invasion of America was complete. The navy, its morale completely sapped by grape-juice, had offered but slight resistance to the German Armada; and the army, too proud to fight, had stood around while the Japanese established their foothold on the soil of God’s Own Country. Once begun, it had proceeded apace. New York had been bombarded —but fortunately, as it was summer, nobody of any importance was in town. Philadelphia, though ably defended by military correspondents of the Saturday Evening Post, had fallen at last. America was beneath the heel of the invader, whose only casualties consisted of a detachment of infantry who had been rash enough to travel on the New York, New Haven and Hartford Railroad — with the usual results. Far-seeing patriots took a gloomy view of this state of affairs