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See notes Dec. 6 1888  

It is a stupid, dull, dark, sulky day—ground white with snow but nothing approaching sleighing. A mixture of mud & snow (the worst possible mixture). But I have a good fire in my office, have just had a good dinner of roast turkey and potatoes boiled in their jackets, (which is the only way a potato should ever be cooked), and have a very middling book to read (Obiter Dicta, 2d Series, Augustine Birrell), so I feel that I can defy the Pope the Devil and the Pretender—(an old  expression of my father's). In fact I am feeling first rate "and hope these few lines will find you enjoying the same blessing"—seriously I trust all is going well with you—and with the big book—I hope to get my unbound copy of that early this week. There is nothing further from Gurd and I feel my patience wearing thin again—all quiet and going well at the asylum—it is a year today since our fire—hope it will be a good many untill the next—I had a proof of my report from Toronto last week to correct it will not be published untill the house meets abt 10th January, shall send it to you then—it is quite elaborate—Remember me to Mrs Davis and Ed. Wilkins

Love to you R M Bucke