Note to readers – Sauk Valley Media reprints editorials from the past as a regular Monday feature. The following editorials appeared in the Telegraph on Dec. 31, 1887.
That sidewalk snow plow is a good thing generally, but the two men and one horse management this morning did not tackle the drifts with the vim that was required to make a real path.
The plow skipped over the top of the snow much as a sled would glide along. But the snow was heavy and packed with the falling rain.
We would not, however, discourage that snow plow business, for it has been a great blessing, and we hope that the city authorities will keep it moving, thus removing the “beautiful snow” that becomes a most intolerable nuisance when piled upon the sidewalk.
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We have heard no arrangements for making calls on New Year’s Day, and we fear that the pleasant and neighborly custom has become among the things of the past.
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There will be, as usual on New Year’s Eve, Watch Night services at the M.E. church tonight, commencing at nine o’clock. It is proposed to see the old year out and welcome the new; “Welcome the coming; speed the parting guest,” so to speak.
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The Dixon Sun, on the question of electing a circuit judge, has this editorial:
“Of prime importance and above everything else is to be regarded the fitness for the place. This involves not only legal attainments and experience, but of far more consequence, the ability and disposition to administer justice. Not only should a judge be capable of what is right, but he should be a man whose impulses are invariably to do right. A man who harbors resentment for real or fancied injuries, who possesses strong prejudices or habitually ignores what is right between man and man, could not be trusted to hold even-handed the scales of justice.”
Now that is true, and The Telegraph most heartily endorses the statement. But, neighbor, suppose that the lawyers nominate a man of just such relentless prejudices and uncompromising resentments. What are we going to do about it?
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One of the pretty “waiter girls” in a Freeport hotel turns out to be a boy; the mean thing. A real boy. He was not treated as kindly as was Byron’s Don Juan, for when it was discovered that he was not a she, he was compelled to don bifurcated clothing and go hence to parts unknown.