The Senator thought, as we entered the elevator at the first story, that the accommodation compared very well indeed with anything in his experience.  He had only one criticism—­there was no smoking-room.  We had a slight difficulty with momma at the second story—­she did not wish to change her elevator.  Inside she said she felt perfectly secure, but the tower itself she knew must waggle at that height when once you stepped out.  In the end, however, we persuaded her not to go down before she had made the ascent, and she rose to the top with her eyes shut.  When we finally got out, however, the sight of numbers of young ladies selling Eiffel Tower mementoes steadied her nerves.  She agreed with poppa that business premises would never let on anything but the most stable basis.

“It’s exactly as Bramley said,” remarked the Senator.  “You’re up so high that the scenery, so far as Paris is concerned, becomes perfectly ridiculous.  It might as well be a map.”

“Don’t look over, Alexander,” said momma.  “It will fill you with a wild desire to throw yourself down.  It is said always to have that effect.”

“‘The past ends in this plain at your feet,’” quoted poppa critically from the guide-book, “‘the future will there be fulfilled.’  I suppose they did feel a bit uppish when they’d got as high as this—­but you’d think France was about the only republic at present doing business, wouldn’t you?”

I pointed out the Pantheon down below and St. Etienne du Mont, and poppa was immediately filled with a poignant regret that we had spent so much time seeing public buildings on foot.  “Whereas,” said he, “from our present point of view we could have done them all in ten minutes.  As it is, we shall be in a position to say we’ve seen everything there is to be seen in Paris.  Bramley won’t be able to tell us it’s a pity we’ve missed anything.  However,” he continued, “we must be conscientious about it.  I’ve no desire to play it low down on Bramley.  Let us walk round and pick out the places of interest he’s most likely to expect to catch us on, and look at them separately.  I should hate to think I wasn’t telling the truth about a thing like that.”

We walked round and specifically observed the “Ecole des Beaux Arts,” the “Palais d’Industrie,” “Liberty Enlightening the World,” and other objects, poppa carefully noting against each of them “seen from Eiffel Tower.”  As we made our way to the river side we noticed four other people, two ladies and two gentlemen, looking at the military balloon hanging over Meudon.  They all had their backs to us, and there was to me something dissimilarly familiar about three of those backs.  While I was trying to analyse it one of the gentlemen turned, and caught sight of poppa.  In another instant the highest elevation yet made by engineering skill was the scene of three impetuous American handclasps, and four impulsive American voices were saying, “Why