I have never been drunk in my life. I say this here, because a good many persons who will read this will naturally think that any person who has "been around" as much as I, must at some time have been full. Especially as I am an old soldier, I know that some persons will laugh at this statement as a joke; but it's a sober fact. I never was drunk, but I came mighty near it that night in Richmond.
Lanyard was familiar with all the best places to "get something," and took us into a cozy, warm room, where there was a good, cheerful fire blazing. On one side of the room was the bar—one of those old-fashioned high counters—but you all know what a bar is like, so I won't attempt a description of such a place to old soldiers. On this counter was a large china bowl beautifully decorated on the outside, while within was floating a mixture that I had never seen before. On inquiry, I was informed by the bartender, with a significant grin at the Colonel, which I afterward recalled, that the mixture was Virgina apple-jack.
You don't know what that is? No, I think it has gone out of date, or perhaps its concoction is one of the lost arts. There were apples—roasted apples—floating in a sea of foam, that gave forth a most delightful fragrance. I was curious about the stuff, and being assured by Lanyard that it was a sort of cooked cider, that was made in Virginia as a temperance drink for those who were opposed to hard cider, I, in my unsuspecting innocence, partook of a mug full of the hot stuff. It was not hard to take, being quite pleasant to the taste, and, the evening being so cold and wet, I was prevailed upon to poke my nose into another mug of the apple tea, "just to keep from taking cold."
We all sat down at an adjoining table to await our order of fried oysters, the two companions becoming quite hilarious over their gin, in a way, which I recalled afterwards, as quite significant.
The room was quite warm, and, as I began to dry out in its atmosphere, I became, I thought, too warm, and said as much, which my companions passed off in their careless way with a laugh.
When I attempted to get on to my feet, for the first time in my life my head felt a little bit dizzy, and I had to support myself as I stood to get a proper balance. The table began to move, as if impelled by some unseen power; in looking up, the fire had grown into three or four different fires in as many different places; there were several hundred bottles behind the bar, and realizing in an instant what was coming, I made a sudden rush for the door, staggering through the room, amid the laughter of the Colonel and Lanyard, who urged me to sit down; but I had not yet lost my head, and refused to stop until I got outside, when I leaned against the door until I cooled off.
It was a close call, but the Federal Spy didn't lose his head in Richmond that night.