He Wed to End a Lawsuit, Then Fled His Bride at the Gate

The marriage of Mrs. Mary E. Clapsadle and W. Estabrook, of Woodinville, as the only solution of the breach of promise case recently before the superior court, seems not to be a happy one in fact. It is said that the parties are just as much separated as before the marriage, and that the beaming smiles of the middle-aged bride as she triumphantly walked away from the court house with her laggard husband have been turned into looks of anxiety and sorrow.

It is related that after the marriage Mr. Estabrook quietly smuggled his newly-made bride through the north door and was out upon the street before any one knew what had become of them. Their friends among the crowd of witnesses looked in vain for them down in town, and the couple were as much lost to sight as if they had been swallowed up by the earth.

Estabrook, it appears, did not propose to be a cynosure of neighboring eyes, and instead of going down in town went up to Ninth street, thence to Madison, and then on to Washington, where he and Mrs. Estabrook took a steamer and reached Woodinville far in advance of the others of the “courting” party.

Here they stopped at the old home of the former Mrs. Clapsadle, who, while Estabrook waited outside, went into the house and changed her dress for more homely every-day attire. They then went over to Estabrook’s ranch, where they jointly performed the chores.

About 9 o’clock that evening Estabrook, it is said, took a lantern and took his wife to her own house. When they reached the gate, he is reported to have adroitly let her enter in advance, and in an instant to have closed the gate between them, saying in a voice full of rage:

“I won’t have anything to do with you. Never speak to me again. I never want to see you any more.”

“Why, Charles!” But the remonstrance was useless, for the brand new husband dropped the lantern at her feet, and springing into the dark ran like a deer from the spot.

The disconsolate and abandoned wife the next morning made thorough search for Estabrook, but her efforts were unavailing. Her search, it is said, continued day and night, and in the twilight and darkness the deserted woman went about, Diogenes-like, with her lantern; but her search was no more successful than that of the philosopher of old. No one knew where Estabrook had gone.

Last Wednesday he suddenly reappeared at his ranch, and Mrs. Estabrook at once took steps to intercept him; but “Charles” led her another Tam o’ Shanter chase, and dropped from view as soon as she appeared.

It is thought that Estabrook, with the accumulating weight of marital responsibility, has become slightly unbalanced mentally.