At one o'clock the Hon.

Hezekiah Elkins mounted a platform in the middle of the Square and delivered an oration, to which his "feller-citizens" didn't pay much attention, having all they could do to dodge the squibs that were set loose upon them by mischievous boys stationed on the surrounding housetops.
Our little party which had picked up recruits here and there, not being swayed by eloquence, withdrew to a booth on the outskirts of the crowd, where we regaled ourselves with root beer at two cents a glass.

I recollect being much struck by the placard surmounting this tent: ROOT BEER SOLD HERE It seemed to me the perfection of pith and poetry.

What could be more terse?
Not a word to spare, and yet everything fully expressed.

Rhyme and rhythm faultless.