7
o'clock
At one place she stopped near a tall , lank farmer , whose cowhide boots had left their massive imprint on every roadway on the grounds . He stood chewing a wisp of hay plucked from an exhibit , while he gazed in delight at the harvesters , plows and sheaves of wheat which stretched away before him in an endless vista . `` Wall , I swan , '' he at length confided to the dignified guard , who stood like a sign-post near the door , `` this ` ere 's the only thing I 've seed ` minded me of hum . Bin tramping raound these ` ere grounds , scence 7 o'clock , b ` gosh , an ' ai n't seen a blamed thing did my ole heart so much good as this show right here . By George ! wish I 'd a struck this buildin ' fust thing I come in . Would a saved me a power of walkin ' .