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A quiet, warm, dreamy, breezy, sunshiny, peaceful, Sabbath day—no sounds in the air but the sleepy buzzing of flies and the distant church bells—chapel is over and the folk mostly gone to church—I am off duty and putting in the morning in the office writing a batch of letters—have just written to Mrs Costelloe—had a letter from her last evening—she says Mr Smith is now quite blind of one eye but can read with the other—she sends me a picture of Ray who seems to be thriving finely. I have begun my Annual Report am going to   make it pretty long this year—shall put in a lot about alcohol—results of its disuse at the Asylum and a discussion as to its mode of action upon the nerve centers. I shall be kept here pretty steady I guess until I get the Report off my hands, a month from now, after that if all be well it is quite possible I shall be East about the meter business—Should that go as we think it ought this may be the last annual report I shall write—but of course I say nothing about that at present.

Much love to you RM Bucke   See notes Sept 20, '88