GENTLEMEN,--Graciously invited to respond in the name of the delegates of France who have accept the invitation of the American Government, I consider it my duty in the first place to thank this great nation for the honor which it has paid to us, and for the welcome, which it has extended to us. Those of you who are doing me the honor to listen, know of that disagreeable feeling of isolation which at times the traveler in the midst of a strange people experiences;--that feeling I know only from hearsay. We have not had a moment of time to experience it. They are accustomed in Europe to portray the Americans as exclusively occupied with business affairs. They throw in our faces the famous proverb, 'Business is Business,' and give it to us as the rule of conduct for Americans. We are able to testify entirely to the contrary, since the inhabitants of this beautiful country are always seeking to extend to strangers a thousand courtesies. Above all, we have encountered no one who has not been anxious to go out of his way to give to us, even before we had asked it, such information as it was necessary for us to have. And what shall I say of the welcome which we have received here at the hands of our American confrères,--Monsieur the President of the Exposition, Monsieur the Director of Congresses and other worthy co-laborers? The authorities of the Exposition and the inhabitants of St. Louis have rivaled each other in making our stay agreeable and our ways pleasant in the heart of this magnificent Exposition, of which we shall ever preserve the most enchanting memory. We should have wished to see in a more leisurely manner, and to make acquaintance with the attractions without number with which the Exposition literally swarms (men of letters and men of science love at times to disport themselves) and to study the exhibits classified in a method so exact in the palaces of an architecture so original and so impressive. But Monsieur Newcomb has not permitted this. The Congress of which he is the illustrious President offers so much in the way of attractions,--of a kind a little rigorous it is true,--and so much of work to be accomplished, that to our very great regret we have had to refuse many invitations which it would have been most agreeable to accept. The Americans will pardon us for this, I am sure; they know better than any one else the value of time, but they know also that human strength has some limits, especially among us poor Europeans, for I doubt whether an American ever knows the meaning of fatigue.