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HON. E. W. HYDE, EX-MAYOR OF BATH. NDER the Anvil's spreading tree The Anvil's smithy sits; The Smith a mi~hty man is he In Sagady's politics. And when he pulls his hammer out It 2'Cnerally hits.

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You see him in his sanctwn bere A sitting, at his ease, A thinking of whose scalp he'll take-The Anvil on his knees. Whose will it be? I do not Imow. Unless it be Charles E's. The Hyde men coming up to chat Drop in and stay to lunch; They love to hear the Anyil ring And hear the bellows crunch; And read the red bot stuff that serves To mutilate the Bunch. For it sounds to them lil{e "His Master's VoIce" "E. W.," thru and thru; And they needs must think with conscious pride What each of them can do To boost him in a proper way With bill:ll:er tb~s in view. Thanl{s. thanks to you, our worthy friend For the Il:ood work you have done; No conscious thought but's been for Bath, Since life for you begun. Why cavil if I think I hear This whisper-"Washington?"

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