In a few moments we were between two files of soldiers, and entering the
gates of the palace. I called out to the driver and told him to stop;
but I was too late, for we were now in front of the massive doors of the
palace, and a liveried servant opened the cab door, bowed, and asked if
I had an engagement with the President. You may easily "guess" his
surprise when I told him no. In my best French, I asked the cabman why
he had come to the palace, and was answered, "You told me to." By this
time a number had gathered round, all making inquiries as to what I
wanted. I told the driver to retrace his steps, and, amid the shrugs of
their shoulders, the nods of their heads, and the laughter of the
soldiers, I left the Elysee without even a sight of the President's
mustaches for my trouble. This was only one of the many mistakes I made
while in Paris.




LETTER VII.

_The Chateau at Versailles--Private apartments of Marie Antoinette--The
Secret Door--Paintings of Raphael and David--Arc de Triomphe--Beranger
the Poet._


VERSAILLES, _August 31_.

Here I am, within ten leagues of Paris, spending the time pleasantly in
viewing the palace and grounds of the great Chateau of Louis XIV.
Fifty-seven years ago, a mob, composed of men, women, and boys, from
Paris, stood in front of this palace and demanded that the king should