expired, and the jailer of the wheel opened the cell and
let us out, and you said no one would ever get you to ride again on
anything that you couldn't jump out of if it balked, or you got wheels
in your head and chunks of things came up to your Adam's apple and
choked you. Well, cross my heart, if that Ferris wheel, that looked so
big to us, would make a main spring for the Eiffel tower. The tower is
higher than a kite, and when you get near it and try to look up to the
top, you think it is a joke, and that really no one actually goes up to
the top of it. You see some flies up around the top of it, and when the
guide tells you the flies crawling around there are men and women, you
think the guide has been drinking.

[Illustration: Flies crawling around there are men and women 157]

But dad and I and the guide paid our money, got into an elevator and
began to go up. After the thing had been going up awhile dad said he
wouldn't go up more than a mile or so at first, and asked the man to let
him off at the 3,000-foot level, but the elevator man said dad had got
to take all the degrees and dad said: "Let her went," and after an hour
or so we got to the top.

Gee! but I thought dad would fall dead right there, when he looked off
at Paris and the world beyond. The flies we had seen at the top before
starting had changed to human beings, all looking pale and scared, and
the human beings on the ground had changed into flies and bugs, for all
you could see of a man on the ground was his feet with a flattened plug
hat someway fastened on the ankles, and a woman looked like a spoonful
of raspberry jam dropped on the pavement, or a splash of current jelly
moving on the ground in a mysterious way. I do not know as the Eiffel
tower was intended to act as a Keeley cure, but of the 50 people
who went up with us, half of them were so full their back teeth were
floating, including dad and the guide, but when we got to the top and
they got a view of the awful height to which we had come, it seemed as
though every man got sober at once, and their tongues seemed to cleave
to the roof of their mouths. All they could do was to look off at the
city and the view in the distance, and choke up, and look sorry about
something.

I couldn't help thinking of what sort of a pulp a man would be if he
fell off the top of the tower and struck a fat woman on the pavement,
cause it seemed to me you couldn't tell which was fat woman and which
was man.