Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 18, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 January 1875 — How an Austin City Fashion Reporter Lived and Died. A Sad Case. [ARTICLE]

How an Austin City Fashion Reporter Lived and Died.

A Sad Case.

* Tn fashion reporter of an Austin City (Hot.) paper described the belle of the masquerade ball bt the following astounding language: “The most gorgeous, ■tunning, high-toned, richest, fas testoUssestTnicest, or any other adjective for earTtvir* in the ‘outfit,’ was that worn by Miss Frankie Clarice. She was the highfalutinist, gayest, and galusest dressed gal in the room. She appeared as a page, and she was a page that no man would leave any other, read. Both in costume and action she was as perfect as a big sunflower.” A couple of days after the appearance of the notice into the editorial room of the paper stalked a young man. His brow was wrapped in thunder, his body in a suit of tweed, and his hands clasped a big lump of hickory. He pulled a paper out of his pocket, and, pointing his finger to the paragraph, said: “I want ter sec the man as wrote that ere.” “ I am the individual,” reSlied the person. “Wat did yer go and o'it for, that’s wat I want to know*” ** Oh, because I thought you’d like to see your girl made out one of the most bewitching females that was ever sent on earth to keep a man from his hash and drive balmy sicep from bis pillow. “ Now, look here. Ever sencc that was published I can’t get a word out of her. She sets in front of the looking-glass and keeps a gazin’ on herself, and niakin’ squint eyes at her dress, and puckerin’ up her mouth and actin’ as if she were a blasted sight better’n anybody else. 1 want this ’ere thing fixed* or there’ll be a editor’s situation vacant” He looked significantly at the club. For a moment the reporter stood m profound thought; then* his face brightened and he said: “ I'll fix it in next" week’s paper. After you’ve seen the next issue call and tell me the result.” The young man left. In the next week’s paper appeared the following paragraph: A Cokrectiox. —We made r crave mistake in onr issue of last week lu onr description of the masquerade*hall we accidentally substituted the name of Miss Frankie Clarke for that of Miss Georpie Waller. Anyone who is acquainted with the first-named lady' must have discovered the error. It is true that she appeared lor what was intended as a pace, hut she looked a eood deal more like a boot-mack in hard Hick. She is not good-looking, her actions were absurd, and every man in the room kept as far from her as'poFsible. She think* of moving out of this community as it's unappreciative. When she goes she will he escorted out of the town by a brass band. The people of Austin w ill gladly miss her from among them. The next day the young man entered the office. In his hand he bore a rille and his belt was ornamented with a big six-shooter and a tremendous bowieknife. He sailed up to the reporter. ‘‘l look warlike, don’t If -I don’t feel a bit like fightin’, you bet. You jest oughter hev seen her when she read that correction. Why, she jest danced a jig with madness and she sot down and cried, and then she come up and threw her arms around my neck and said: ‘Arthur, do you love me*’ ‘You bet your best bonnet on that,’ said I. ‘Well, never expect me to speak to you again if you don’t go and lull the feller wat writ that slander.’ ‘ln course I promised. And here I am to kill you.” He laughed long and heartily. Xfter a time he quieted down, and the reporter said: “I suppose, in order to make it all right between you and your girt, I’ve got to become a corpse, I’ll do it. Sit there a minute, and Til fix the business.” He sat down at a desk and scribbled away for a few minutes, and then returned with a sheet of paper on which was written: OBmiauT.—- It grieve* u* to be compelled to announce the sudaen death of Mr. Charles Keller, the young and talented fashion editor. In a moment of mental aberration he had slandered an estimable, accomplished and beautiful young lady of this city, named Mis* Frankie Clarke. Yesterday her betrothed called at this office aud asked for the author of the slander, and, when he * discovered him, shot him dead on the spot. This paper will be unable to give iashion gossip hereafter. We find it impossible to till tne place left Ttcant by Mr. Keller. Though erratic, he was a man of kindly heart, and could listen more attentively to ’ stale stories aud drink more bad whisky than any man in Austin, K. 1. I*. “ That’s your sort," said the infuriated lover. “ That’s the tiling to aT. Come along, Mr. Corpse, and hist a little lightning.” The lady was satisfied when the paragraph appeared in the next issue of the paper, her lover was regarded as a hero, and the Austin paper ceased to give reports of fashionable balls.

A Washington (D. C.) paper gives the following account of a distressing case of kleptomania and suicide which occurred in that city a lew days ago: One of the well-known booksellers of this city had for some time missed books from his stock, which he was convinced were not sold and paid so fact, he knew they had been stolen. He therefore for a time closely scrutinized his visitors, and finally made up liis mind that a certain frequent visitor to his store was the thief. One day the gentleman came in and bought a book. He remained some moments after paying for it, during which time he took down another and was looking over its pages with apparent interest. The proprietor passed so close to him that he slightly jostled him, at which moment the back of the book was turned so that his eye took in the title. He then turned away a moment to serve another customer, and almost instantly heard the door shut behind customer No. 1, who left at a brisk pace. Going to the shelf from which the last book was taken it was gone! He therefore “lit out” on tfie street, and soon overhauled his literary kleptomaniac. Placing his hand on his shoulder, he said: “You have taken from my store a copy of ‘ Neihhur’s Lectures,’ and you must give it to me." The book was handed out forthwith, with the appeal; “ For God’s sake, sir, don’t expose me here in public, fori am a minister of the Gospel.” After some further conversation, .during which time the offending party was fully identified, the bookseller let him go, assuring him that he wotild not expose him. But by some means the matter came to the knowledge of a reporter of one of the Sunday papers, and the next morning a paragraph appeared in its columns circumstantially narrating the circumstance, but withholding the clergyman’s name. He was all ready for church —had re-perused sermpn for the forenoon, when a paper was put in his hand containing the statement in substance as we have told it. He went to his room, and not appearing as usual to proceed to the church Search was maae for him. He was found in his bath-room dead — and with his throat cut from ear to ear! The sad event made quite a sensation among his congregation, for whom he had preached for fifteen years with entire acceptance. His life had been useful and exemplary in all respects save this alone. He could not help stealing books! No blame was attached to the bookseller, for, being a stranger to the kleptomaniac, he conld

only regard him as a common thief at the start, though he was deeply grieved at the sad denouement.