Wanted a drink.
--The Richmond correspondent of the New Orleans Crescent thus details has personal sufferings subsequent to the establishment of martial law.The dead silence of this town oppresses me. Martial law is felt, but not seen. The moon shines coldly down, and there's not a drink to be had from Rocketts to Screamersville. Who is me. Where are all the soldiers ?--Even they are not visible, except in the day time. Would that I were the head of a barrel of the best old Bumgardner ! Oh! that the Yankees were in Hades, and I was in Washington at Kioman's or Benter's or that Cinskey was Postmaster of the House and this was the last night of the session ! I want a glass of ale. A fellow could get a very good hot whiskey punch at Brown's, or at the corner back of Brown's, in the old days; and Green, who kept the Columbian (I think it was the Columbian) there by the General Post Office, was not a bad hand for refreshments. Biggs and I have had many a drink in that basement. But here — morals. I think I hear you say good morals, and me thinks you mentioned the peace of society and the health of the army. But what is good order compared to good liquor ? I tell you I want a drink, and it is not to be had for love, money, or Harvey.
