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Show CHATTER. (Being the personal opinions of tho writer and for which no one else is in any manner responsible.) Food adulteration has been tho subject sub-ject of many an article in tho magazines; mag-azines; many an ablo editorial in the press of the country. Tho question as to the best methods of suppressing the sale of doctored products has engrossed en-grossed the attention of our statesmen, states-men, and those who hold high positions posi-tions in government, who are not statesmen. The death rate among infants in-fants caused by the sale of adulterated milk has caused us to shiver with horror, hor-ror, and the statistics of ruined stomachs, stom-achs, damaged through eating and drinking drugged food and doctored drink has made us shiver. Many odd phases of adulteration have been noted since the investigations began. Our own state chemist ascertained that catchup, made right here In Utah, contained more mashed squash than tomato, and has told us that the maple syrup wo purchase in cans gets its llavors from tho humble corn cob. But tho latest discovery was made down east. A chemist bought a lemon pie. Analyzing It ho found that it contained neither lemon, butter nor sugar, but was made of coal tar and glucose. Wouldn't that jar you. Tho poet on tho Baltimore American immediately im-mediately sot about to do smoethlng for his country and tho result is told in tho following linos: "They're making clothes from wool And iron things from wood; They're making goodies out of scraps And nasty things from good; They're making paper things from rags And money out of 'sky,' But this is suro tho worst as yet A coal tar lomon pie. They're making combs from kerosene And pearls from ollvo oil; They're making Belgian hares of cats An syrup out of soil; They're making buckwheat cakes of pasto An pumlco stone Oh my. But this is suro tho time to kick A coal tar lomon pie. They're making clothing out of glass And butter out of grease; " While maple sugar made from sand Is commoner than geese; They make from scraps and chicken bones Most terrapin you buy; But anything we'll stand except A coal tar lemon pie." All of which seems to bo right and apt. This sort of work ought to bring on a revolution. Bloody wars have been fought for less trivial causes. A friend of mine sends in a clipping with tho request that I print it. It is right in line with his own thoughts, ho says. Said clipping has to do with the use of our language. For Instance: "A boy who swims may say he swum but milk is skimmed and seldom skum; and nails you trim, they are not trum. When words you speak those words are spoken; but a nose is tweaked and can't bo twoken, and what one seeks is never soken. It wo forget, then we've forgotten, but thlng3 wo wet are never wotten, a huoso to let Is never lottcn. The goods ono sells aro always sold, but fears dispelled are not dispohl, and what you smell Is never smolcd. When young, a top you oft saw spun, but did you see a grin e'er grun, or a potatoe neatly slum?" Tho Tribune wants a state anthem. Well, here's one that ought to suit tho Tribune exactly: Dear, Utah, 'tis of thee, Land of tho Hierarchy, Of thee we sing. Hero Joseph F. doth rule O'er church and Sunday school While each tithe-paying iooI Doth tribute bring. Dear Utah, Freedom burns In tho heart of Thomas Koarns And Frankio C. It also lights tho breast And never gives a minute's rest But burns with a fierce zest Of Colonel Masu-meo. Loved Utah, unto thee Wo sing our blithe song; See Night and day. May we bo ever "it," And on our foemen sit While wo their "physlogs" hit Let' us pray. |