Wall, we told Josiah he should have his way that mornin', and go where he wanted to—and he wanted to tackle Machinery Hall; consequently we tackled it.
And how many acres big do you suppose this buildin' wuz? Seventeen acres and a half is the size of the floor—
Jest half a acre more than Silenas Bobbetses farm, that he broke old Squire Bobbetses will to git, and he and his twin brother Zebulin come to hands and blows about, in front of the Jonesville post-office.
Zebulin said it wuz too much land to give to one of the children—they wuz leven of 'em—and the farm didn't go round—the others didn't have only fifteen acres apiece.
Yes; this one buildin' covered as much ground as Silenas Bobbet gits a good livin' from, a-raisin' cabbage and spinach.
And the buildin' wuz seemin'ly all wrought of white marble, with statutes, and colonnades, and towers, and everything else for its comfort, and inside wuz every machine that wuz ever made or thought on, from a sassage-cutter and apple-parer to a steam engine in full blast.
I believe they tuned up higher and louder when I went in—it wouldn't be nothin' surprisin' if they did, some as the brass band strikes up as the hero enters.
This song wuz the loud, strong chorus of Labor, that echoes all over the world, grand chorus that is played by the full orkestry of the sons and daughters of toil.
Oh, how many notes there is in this strong, ail-pervadin' anthem! Genius, and Patience, and Ambition, and Enterprise, and Ardent Endeavor—high notes, and low ones, all blent together, all tuned to the hauntin' key. It is a sam that shakes the hull earth with its might.
As I entered this palace, sacred to its song, how its echoes rolled through my ear pans, how them pans seemed to fairly shiver under the mighty strokes of the song, and its weird, painful accompaniment of boilers a-boilin', rollin' mills a-rollin'!