f genius
over matter, over ignorance, over superstition--met with its due
recognition when Edison came to participate, and to felicitate a noble
nation that could show so much in the victories of civilization and the
arts, despite its long trials and its long struggle for liberty. It is
no exaggeration to say that Edison was greeted with the enthusiastic
homage of the whole French people. They could find no praise warm enough
for the man who had "organized the echoes" and "tamed the lightning,"
and whose career was so picturesque with eventful and romantic
development. In fact, for weeks together it seemed as though no Parisian
paper was considered complete and up to date without an article on
Edison. The exuberant wit and fancy of the feuilletonists seized
upon his various inventions evolving from them others of the most
extraordinary nature with which to bedazzle and bewilder the reader. At
the close of the Exposition Edison was created a Commander of the Legion
of Honor. His own exhibit, made at a personal expense of over $100,000,
covered several thousand square feet in the vast Machinery Hall, and was
centred around a huge Edison lamp built of myriads of smaller lamps of
the ordinary size. The great attraction, however, was the display of the
perfected phonograph. Several instruments were provided, and every day,
all day long, while the Exposition lasted, queues of eager visitors from
every quarter of the globe were waiting to hear the little machine
talk and sing and reproduce their own voices. Never before was such
a collection of the languages of the world made. It was the first
linguistic concourse since Babel times. We must let Edison tell the
story of some of his experiences:

"At the Universal Exposition at Paris, in 1889, I made a personal
exhibit covering about an acre. As I had no intention of offering to
sell anything I was showing, and was pushing no companies, the whole
exhibition was made for honor, and without any hope of profit. But the
Paris newspapers came around and wanted pay for notices of it, which we
promptly refused; whereupon there was rather a stormy time for a while,
but nothing was published about it.

"While at the Exposition I visited the Opera-House. The President of
France lent me his private box. The Opera-House was one of the first
to be lighted by the incandescent lamp, and the managers took great
pleasure in showing me down through the labyrinth containing the
wiring, dynamos,