Richard Forrest, Bachelor — page 223: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

O14 A HOMILY ON MATRIMONY. CHAPTER XXVI. A HOMILY ON MATRIMONY. It was late, a dismal afternoon in February. All day a cold, drizzling rain had been falling, and freezing as it fell. The air was damp and chilly, with occasional gusts of piercing wind, which threatened to tear the clothing from one’s back. Fifth avenue was full of sliding, slipping horses and shouting drivers who used the whip freely to keep the struggling brutes on their feet. People who were obliged to walk did so hurriedly, with bent heads and umbrellas held tightly with both hands. It was dismal enough out doors, but inside the U—— Club the reverse was the case. Here, all was bright and cheerful. Fires glowed in the fire-places and lounging chairs drawn close to racks filled with reading-matter of every description, invited all who were disposed to take their ease, while pool and card-tables stood in readiness for such as were inclined to amusement. It was too early yet for the gas to be lighted, and soa few members had seated themselves by the windows to en- - joy the ‘‘sights’’ before darkness closed in. One man had settled himself in a corner with a paper and a brandy and soda, of which he took an occasional sip, more as though to pass the time than if he had any par- ticular craving for it. It was fast growing dusk and too dark to read by day- light much longer, so he was about to fold up his paper when a remark from somebody in the window arrested his : (COMMUCLOO KS n(EC) S|