I well remember the old fellow and his high-pitched voice.

Addison, I recall, refused to go to hear him; but Willis Murch and I went.

We were late and had difficulty in squeezing inside the room.

Uncle Solon, as everybody called him, stood at the teacher's desk, and was talking in his quaint, homely way: a lean man in farmer's garb, with a kind of Abraham Lincoln face, honest but humorous, droll yet practical; a face afterwards well known from Maine to Iowa.
"We farmers are bearin' the brunt of the hard times," Uncle Solon said.
"'Tain't fair.

Them rich fellers in New York, and them rich railroad men that's running things at Washington have got us down.