"erect, confident and heroic"

(617.30-619.19)  Much of the last half of ALP's letter is devoted to bringing us up to speed on what's happening in her part of Dublin and to correcting misconceptions.  A woman named Lily Kinsella has married a man named Mr. Sneakers.  She bought a bottle of medicine, which may or may not have been used to poison HCE.  "We are advised the waxy is at present in the Sweeps hospital and that he may never come out!" ALP notes.  If we look through our "leatherbox," we will one day see a postcard depicting the scene, with Lily on a sofa as HCE would "begin to jump a little bit to find out what goes on when love walks in besides the solicitous bussness by kissing and looking into a mirror."

ALP asserts that she was not treated poorly by the police when they investigated HCE's death.  The family was never "chained to a chair," and she says that "no widower whother soever followed us about with a fork on Yankskilling Day."  She would, however, like to lodge a complaint against a seargeant Laraseny that would cause his health to be "constably broken into potter's pance."  

After crediting "Adam, our former first Finnlatter" for "his beautiful crossmess parzel," which contained cakes, ALP concludes her letter on a hopeful note.  "Hence we've lived in two worlds," she says.  In one world, a version of HCE is buried under the Hill of Howth:  "He is another he what stays under the himp of holth."  In the other world, the legitimate (and perhaps new) HCE will wake:  "The herewaker of our hameframe is his real namesame who will get himself up and erect, confident and heroic when but, young as of old, for my daily comfreshenall, a wee one of woos."

ALP signs her letter "Alma Luvia, Pollabella."  In a postscript, she notes that she's "about fetted up now" and "[w]orns out."  Apparently the night in the Wake has not fully refreshed her.  I, however, am fairly well refreshed, and excited to tackle the final ten pages of the Wake beginning tomorrow.