On the tenth day of this month the Exposition is to be opened. The city has cut entirely loose from its Quaker traditions. It is clad in banners, flags, garlands, arches, and emblems. Many private residences are painted to represent the American flag; numerous clothes-lines offer to the breezes various shaped streamers of red, white, blue, and orange-colored flannel. All the lamp-posts have been silver-plated; every telegraph pole has been varnished; every wire enamelled. For weeks the inhabitants have not gone to bed. An ingenious invention in the shape of an inflatable pocket-pillow enables them to take standing naps against walls, buildings, and fire-plugs. The guns at the Navy Yard continually herald distinguished arrivals. The streets are thronged with citizens, tourists, American and foreign officers and soldiers, the advance guard of every country to be represented. ’Tis like an animated waxwork exhibition. Receptions, banquets, and serenades are of hourly occurrence. Many side streets are converted into airy lodgings. Families have rented out their door-steps, charging double price when their door-mats are used. A new industry has arisen, and hostlers are deserting the stables to carry shaving water for, and attend to the visitors thus accommodated. It is a common thing, on the way down town in the morning, to pass an early riser making his toilette under difficulties, while a lazier companion snores away complacently with his head against the alley-gate. The seventh day of the month was one to be remembered with pride forever. Early in the day the Chevalier De Lafayette arrived with the gentlemen of the French Commission and secured quarters at the “Guy House.” In consideration of his ancestor’s great services, the proprietor rated the Chevalier’s board at six hundred francs per diem, and as a delicate compliment to his national feelings, assigned him an apartment in the French roof. Before he departed the Chevalier ascertained to his complete satisfaction why this hotel was called the Guy House. [Illustration] On the evening after their arrival, a reception was tendered the Chevalier and his companions by our citizens. Col. Fitzgerald was selected to deliver the address of welcome on account of his Parisian manners, the elegance of costume which distinguishes him from his fellows, and for his general epileptic fitness. We give a report of his speech copied from the “City Item” of the succeeding day. We are, therefore, prepared to vouch for its correctness. [LA BLESSING DE MON PERE.] “_Messieurs_: God bless you all; you are noble men; we are all noble men; a noble man’s the honest work of God. God bless Paris; God bless Philadelphia--they are both noble cities! May He bless the _Champs Elysées_; may He bless the _Column Vendome_; may He bless the _Hotel de Ville_, and, _entre nous_, while we are upon this subject, God bless the _Abattoir_. (Great applause.)