September 14th, 1862.

I have been so busy making Lieutenant Bourge's shirt that I have not
had time to write, besides having very little to write about. So my
industry saved my paper and spared these pages a vast amount of trash.
I would not let any one touch Lieutenant Bourge's shirt except myself;
and last evening, when I held it up completed, the loud praises it
received satisfied me it would answer. Miriam and Miss Ripley declared
it the prettiest ever made. It is dark purple merino. The bosom I
tucked with pleats a quarter of an inch deep, all the way up to the
collar, and stitched a narrow crimson silk braid up the centre to hold
it in its place. Around the collar, cuffs, pockets, and band down the
front, the red cord runs, forming a charming contrast to the dark
foundation. Indeed, I devoted the sole article the Yankees let fall
from my two workboxes--a bunch of soutache--to the work. Large white
pearl buttons completed the description, and my shirt is really as
quiet, subdued, and pretty a one as I ever saw. I should first hear the
opinion of the owner, though. If he does not agree with all the others,
I shall say he has no taste.

I got a long sweet letter from Sophie on Friday that made me happy for
the whole day. They were about leaving for Alexandria. I was glad to
hear they would be out of danger, but still I was sorry they were going
so far away. I have been laying a hundred wild schemes to reach Baton
Rouge and spend a day or two with them, which is impossible now. Sophie
writes just as she talks--and that means remarkably well, so I can at
least have the pleasure of corresponding. At Dr. Carnal's they will be
out of the reach of all harm and danger; so I ought to rejoice. There
is one thing in which Sophie and I agree, and that is in making
Stonewall Jackson our hero. Talk of Beauregard! he never had my
adoration; but Stonewall is the greatest man of the age, decidedly.

Still no authentic reports of the late battles in Virginia. I say late,
referring to those fought two weeks ago. From the Federal accounts,
glowing as they usually are, I should gather the idea that their rout
was complete. I cannot imagine why we can hear nothing more from our
own side....

I think my first act on my return home will be to take a cup of coffee
and a piece of bread, two luxuries of which I have been deprived for a
long while. Miriam vows to devour an unheard-of number of biscuits,
too. How many articles we consider