! With the Spider? Not even with the Spider!
With the lapdog, sir! And I was forced to content myself with a seat by
Arachne's side, facing the royal pair.

"'_Aux Gobelins_,' says Mrs. Waldoborough, to the driver; '_mais allez
par l'Hotel de Ville, le pont Louis Philippe, el l'eglise de Notre
Dame,--n'est-ce pas?_' referring the question to me.

"I said, 'As you please.' And the red-faced driver said, '_Bien,
Madame!_' as he shut us into the coach. And off we went by the Hotel de
Ville, the Pont Louis Philippe, and Notre Dame, accordingly.

"We stopped a few minutes to look at the Cathedral front; then rattled
on, up the Quai and across the Pont de l'Archeveche, and through the
crooked, countless streets until we reached the Gobelins; and I must
confess I did not yet experience any of the sublime emotions I had
counted upon in riding with the distinguished Madam Waldoborough.

"You have been to the Gobelins? If you haven't, you must go there,--not
with two ladies and a lapdog, as I did, but independently, and you will
find the visit well worth the trouble. The establishment derives its
name from an obscure wool-dyer of the fifteenth century, Jean Gobelin,
whose little workshop has grown to be one of the most extensive and
magnificent carpet and tapestry manufactories in the world.

"We found liveried attendants stationed at every door and turning-point,
to direct the crowds of visitors and to keep out dogs. No dog could be
admitted except in arms. I suggested that King Francis should be left in
the coach; upon which Mrs. Waldoborough asked, reproachfully, 'Could I
be so cruel?' and the Spider looked at me as if I had been an American
savage. To atone for my inhumanity, I offered to carry the cur; he was
put into my arms at once; and so it happened that I walked through that
wonderful series of rooms, hung with tapestries of the richest
description, of the times of Francis I., Louis XIV., and so forth, with
a detested lapdog in my hands. However, I showed my heroism by enduring
my fate without a murmur, and quoting Tennyson for the gratification of
Mrs. Waldoborough, who was reminded of the corridors of 'The Palace of
Art.'

'Some were hung with arras green and blue,
Showing a gaudy summer-morn,
Where with puffed cheek the belted hunter blew
His wreathed bugle-horn.'

'One showed an iron coast, and angry waves.
You seemed to hear them climb and fall,
And roar rock-thwarted un