The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1874-01-15
The Age Of Adulseration.


This nineteenth century of ours will
hereafter be surely known as the cage
of adulteration." Gold, brass, iron,
having each reigned over the world,
now seems to have arrived the cycle of
shoddy. From birth to death our fate
is to be the helpless victims of veneer,
the doomed martyrs to the Juggernaut
of adulteration. On entering this world
of simulacra, we are speedily weaned
upon a diet of typhoid-water milk,
while our infantine disorders are at
tackled with spurious drugs, infinitely
diluted. Advancing in age, our tender
chests are protected with flannel, half
cotton, our little limbs clad in shoddy
cloth, our chilly feet encased in brown
paper-soled boots, and our cherry-ripe
nose operated on with silk handker-
chiefs, heavy with stifening. Having
survived these crucial tests of eonstitu-
tion. we place an eight caret gold we'd
ding ring on a dainty finger, an amidst
sham tears, and equally sham reioicings,
we travel off by that greatest of all
make-believes, an express train, in
search of an imaginary happiness.
Settling down to housekeeping, we re-
fresh ourselves each morning with a
deooction of Maloo mixture and steel
filings, sNeetened with sand, and we
assuage appetite with alumed bread,
larded butter, fresh eggs from Kam-
tsehatks, and OK tongues not unac-
quainted with omnibus life, while on
our return home in the evening, we par
take of DRrtmoor mutton from North
amptOnshire, sanctify it with a bottle of
petroleum champagne and some Ham
burg sherry, and top off with Swiss
cheese from Ayrshire and a glass of
port, from any hedge. Then, deter
mined on enjoyment, we kick off our
brown paper boots, light a delicious
Houndsditch Havana, loIl back in an
armchair covered with imitation moroc-
co, and stuffed with ash-pit pickings,
warm our shoddy-covered legs at a
brisk slate fire, mix a tumbler of
methylated spirits called whisky, and
conscientiously subscribe a guinea to
local charity, because our neighbor has
only given pound. Next day we are
i'll the doctor, shamming interest in
our case, writes prescription in sham
Latin; the chemist dispenses it in
diluted drugs the family lawyer, pre-
tending pity, verbosely writes our will
in sham English phraseolcgy to increase
his charges and just when our sham
gold repeater, warranted to last for fifty
years, stops, we stop tco, and end with
these shams of life. Then amidst the
gloomy faces of expectant heirs, our
shOddy-velvet-eovered coffin, studded
with lacquered nails, is borne away by
dyed horses proudly bearing sham
ostrich plumes, false names and fiicti-
tious tails, while hired mourners
lengthen out their funeral faces at so
much per inch, and cheat at that. Last
of all we are duly covered in with pat
ent stone, warranted not to dissolve,
and our epitaph pretends that our
friends are inconsolable for their loss.
Altogether, from cradle to grave, we
have been surrounded by delusions, fc-
tions and portentous sdulterations, un-
til the real, true and sterling have at
last seemed to become mere shams,
wretched veneers to cover worthless
trash. In which, perhaps, our clerical
friends may find the reason for that
want of faith, of which they accuse
the exiting generation.