He said that one of the boys in the shop
tried to play a trick on the old man, as they call him, while he was
napping on the couch. They rigged up a talking-machine on a stand and
dressed it in some of Edison's old clothes, put a lullaby record on it,
lugged it in, set it up in front of the couch and set it going, to
express the idea that he was singing himself to sleep. But while they
were at this Mr. Edison, getting on to the joke, for he generally naps
with one eye open, got up and put a lot of stuffing under the couch
spread, stuck his old hat on it so as to make it look as though his face
was covered; then peered through the crack of a door. When the music
commenced he opened the door and said:
"'Boys, it won't work; music can't affect dead matter.' Then they pulled
off the couch cover and all had a good laugh.
"Now. you can see," Bill went on, with ever increasing enthusiasm, "just
how that shows where Mr. Edison stands. Nobody can get ahead of him, and
there isn't anyone with brains who knows him who doesn't admit he has
more brains and is wider awake than anybody else. There's nothing that
he does that doesn't show it. You have all seen his questionnaires for
the men who are employed in his laboratories and you can bet they're no
joke. And his inventions--they're not just the trifling things like
egg-beaters, rat-traps, coat-hangers, bread-mixers, fly-swatters and
lipsticks.
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