A MYSTERTIOUS FRENCHMAN IN EXILE.

Bruce Herald, Volume XVII, Issue 1759, 18 June 1886, Page 6

A MYSTERTIOUS FRENCHMAN IN EXILE.

Some years ago a strange Frenchman, named J. W. Authur Warnot, arrived at Sequin, iv the vicinity of San Antonio, Tex , bought a farm and settled down to work. There was with him a beautiful young Freuchwomen whom i he claimed as his wife. He was a I mysterious, uncommunicative sort of j a man, and rumour soon had it that he was one of those impulsive, remarkable , characters that France alone produces, who had been in her navy, had become a man of mark, but for political reasons was compelled to abandon his country and live in exile. He seemed to be intensely fond of bis pretty wife, who, however, being unable to learn the English language, became homesick and went back to Prance. After remaining away awhile she returned, accompanied by her sister, and the two joined their entreaties to persuade him to go back with them to the land they loved best. For reasons best known to himself he was firm in his refusal, and again the young women departed from the Texas farm, never to return. This appeared to cast a shadow over the deserted husband, who, soon wearied of the life left to him, sold out his farm, and about two years ago came to New Orleans. He took a room of Mrs Belle Bemiss, 93 St Louis Street, San Antonio. He had money, is supposed to have written for andjcorresponded with some papers, but led such a quiet, silent, speechless tife, that no one got an insight into his real history, character, or personality. Whatever the ups and downs, the lights and shades of his life had been, he bad hidden them in the inscrutable recesses of his heart, not letting them out even when he had punctured that organ of life and secrecy. He left no record, no sketch of his career, although to some extent a professional litterateur. His experience had evidently been a sad one, unrequited to the degree that his spirits longed for, so he ent it short with the glittering steel and expired a suicide. He kept aloof from everybody, and gradually became moody and secret in his ways. Be was a great reader, and had a select library. A few days ago he offered to sell it to an acquaintance who keeps a book-store, but changed his mind and retained his books. He had been complaining of feeling unwell, and the other morning ended the story of his life by forcing the blade of a huge clasp knife through his heart. He had fully calculated the act, and had prepared for it. The five inch blade had been grouud to a nicety, the edge like that of a razor, the point needle-like, and he felt for tho spot just below the left nipple and drove it unerringly in. He left the following note in French for those who should find him: . " Do not look for my papers nor for my money. I have destroyed all, fearing that my enemies might find their profit. They sufficiently despoiled me. They will have nothing more. As for me, I have enough of life. lam infirm, old, discouraged — what can I do in this world? Let me die in, peace. The sale of my trunks and their contents will be snffieient to bury me. The key is on my person."