1 Tomcoole. 20.5.1916. My dear Jim, We got a notice today, through Min, that you could
receive letters. This day week I sent you a note with stamps
& note—paper to reply but nothing came. Then your Mother
wrote to the Commandant yesterday, I should say a
questioning letter. What care if you are alive and not too
badly off. Things are much the same here. Dick has shaved off the
whiskers. The Hollow-back has foaled, anonst to them all.
Kit and Nell are still in Mountjoy, having the time of their
lives. Dinny, Seán Z & many other friends are still in
Richmond, all awaiting their trial. They are all being very
well treated and in good form. The house full
here with people enquiring after you all. (Mother is in the
Cellar — Sat. morning 'That'll be two' etc). She is improving
very much and can eat everything now. She steals the
potato every day at dinner-time. No cabbage now — the
Bos has a puss in consequence. All the corn just sown.
Jack reads the novel night & day, between Mother's questions. Fr. Gaul is changed and we are getting Fr. M. Murphy
Ferns. All delighted here. A little game tomorrow morning.
Jim H.O.C comes here strong again. They have a mare
on hands — Martin's — for Fair of Ross on Tuesday. 2 We hear occasionally from all the prisoners. Paddy Cullen
says 'its a quare man would not be in now.' I could never give you all the news. You will have to
visit. Did you happen on P. Kehoe and Pat Jackman
over there? ' They'll be late this year with them.'
We have the 'early nudge' in the big meadow along
by the Lake. You never heard anything like Ned W. these times.
He is riding the mare every evening & comes in to his
supper — we killed a pig last week — lashins of
everything. He said you would think Ned Doyle was reading
Latin the way he talks. Chris got home from Galway after a month's stay.
She has us bothered ever since about their grandeur.
'I don't believe these stories, though' Una, poor child, is bad with a nasty attack of the
measles. She has not been out for some weeks now.
She did not return to the North at all. The weather is glorious and the work is going
on well — except at intervals when he slips on to
the road with George and auld Mickie. You would not
know which of them was which. G. told Ned W. the other
day, he says, that he would never 'die from being
killed.' Best love from all at home Your affec. sister Teresa. Agnes