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EDISON PHONOGRAPH MONTHLY.
Reproduced from a photograph taken June 16, 1888, the day Mr. Edison completed the first
Commercial Phonograph.
Every representative of the Edison Phonograph will be interested in this historical photograph of Mr. Edison, taken June 16, 1888 — just as the first commercial model was completed. The lasting quality of the inventor's work may be traced in the similar feature of the swivel plate holding both reproducer and recorder, found in the '88 and 1907 models. Marshall Field (wholesale) Chicago, are still using the '88 model and say that when the machines wear out they will install the present Edison Commercial System.
THE HUMAN VOICE IN COLD STORAGE.
[Jack Read in The Star Monthly.'] I am sure many of The Star Monthly readers have read that quaint, delightful story of "Frozen Speech," the story of the hardy explorers who awoke one bitter morning to find that 'tho they might go thru the motions of speaking, no sound issued from their lips. During the long cold winter all communications had to be carried on by sign language. Try as he would, no one could break the silence. Suddenly one morning the sun shone, and the wind grew warm and a faint hissing was heard. Then upon the ears of the astonished mariners were borne spoken words, curses, the barking of dogs, and a thousand and one noises, all jumbled up in one great blooming confusion. Words spoken but not heard at the beginning of the cold snap were now heard, altho no one was speaking. The long period of silence was accounted for.
On that first bitter cold day each man's words were frozen as soon as he spoke them,
so no sound was heard. The words had been kept in cold storage all winter, but now as the air grew warm the words began to thaw, and the things said three months before were now heard.
The chaplain was horror struck as mouth filling oaths and forcible epithets assailed his ears. Run where he would he could not escape the volley of dark blue language. But more trouble yet was to be the good man's portion. The sailors professed to be shocked at the awful language and looked sadly at the chaplain as at a golden idol that had become clay, and mighty poor clay at that. They as one man voiced the opinion that their spiritual adviser was responsible for the violet hued curses. When he expostulated they shook their heads sadly as if the spectacle of their spiritual mentor's fall from grace wrung their very hearts, "and to think, he makes it worse by lying" said "Rum Skuttle Pete" in an "aint it awful" tone. The poor chaplain wilted under the accusations of the practical jokers, and kept to himself during the rest of the voy