New York, Sunday.
My dear Eliza: In anticipation of a possible march on Tuesday I have got myself ready and hold myself under orders for any moment. As for some sort of a hospital costume, if we chance to need one, I have two grey cottonish cross-grained skirts, and a Zouave jacket giving free motion to the arms—so the skirts can be, one of them, always in the wash; and a white Zouave will take the place of the waist when that is in the tub. Four white aprons with waists and large pockets; two stick-out and washable petticoats to take the place of a hoop, and a nice long flannel dressing-gown, which one may put on in a hurry and fly out in, if the city is bombarded or “anything else.” Then for quiet and civil costume, I have only one dress made of black grenadine, like Mary’s, and a black Neapolitan straw with green ribbon will make it all very nice. I shall make up a trunk of towels and old scraps of linen and cotton, soap, cologne, oil-silk, sponges, etc., and have it stored away in the hotel in Washington for use, if necessary. Any towels or old sheets you may have to dispose of we shall probably find useful if we are able to do anything for the sick. I have also under consideration a small camp cooking affair, about two feet square, with lamp and all complete, which I shall probably get—cheap and very useful in an emergency—could cook up little things for ourselves at any rate. If we find that we shall be allowed to march with the regiment, or rather ride, we could easily have grey flannel skirts and shirts made in Washington. So I don’t see that we may not be very comfortable and useful, and consequently happy, even in following the war.
