
ASYLUM FOR THE INSANE
LONDON.
ONTARIO
London, Ont.,2 Sept 1888
I am thinking of you a great deal in this lovely September weather, wondering how it
is with you, dreaming of that September eight years ago when you were here. In
another month I suppose we shall have the two books the "N.B."
and the "C.W."
Before that time or soon after it I may see you—all looks well for the meter
so far and I may be east a good deal looking after it. I wonder how it is we (at
least, I) hear nothing these times of Kennedy and his "Walt
Whitman." I fear publishers are not smiling upon him—fifty years from now they would be glad
enough to get it. I am hard at work on a paper or pamphlet or something or other on
the same subject but goodness knows when it will see type—however nothing like
pegging away—our turn will come some time I suppose since "every dog has his
day"
Let me hear from you when you feel up to it—it seems a long time since I saw your handwriting or the envelope of a letter
We are all well and we all send love to you
I am always affectionately yours RM Bucke
