A Michéal a Chara Dhíl,
Just to let you know that I am still here and alive. Things are moving slowly, but moving all the same. I thought at one time that we had some politicians at home, but believe me they are nothing to the brands out here. Harry's hair is falling out with worry. Your remarks to him at Vaughans on the night of his American wake, he often repeats. 'I am a poor lonesome whore'. We expect to start out on the big push on Sept 21^st (D.[eo] V.[olente]) I wish to God that yourself and a few of your satellites were here to make things hop. The smart Yankee business man is a cod. Like Mrs. 'Arris in one of Charles Dickens book's 'there ain't no sich person'. Harry has probably given you details of the Atlantic City Convention, as he was there all the time. God knows you hardly know who to trust out here. Everyone seems to be out for some game of his own. But the G.[reat] W.[hite] C.[hief]¹ is beating them, and in spite of a lot of trouble and jealousy will come out on top. We 'see by the papers' as Mr Dooley says, that things are fairly lively at home. Fionáin [Lynch] is out now isn't he? Give him my best regards. And say me to Sean, Diarmuid, and all the alarmers. I enclose a note for home and one for Joe. Newspaper cuttings also enclosed.