Baggage does not turn up today. Wrote to W. again and Tillie. Also scribbled a note about the dinner for Neidlinger to hand to the Eagle (Brooklyn). Bucke's Inspector swooped down on him today which made him unwontedly busy. B. had taken Anne and me out for a drive early in the morning. The rest of the day I was with him and the Inspector, going rounds of the field—picking up many facts in the course of their very specific discussions which other circumstances would make impossible. B. governs here with love—no harsh words either to family, staff or patients. All like him—love him. Even his reprimands are without sting. Good group at night in study, with Inspector (Christie), Sippi, Doctor present.
Weather superb—not a cloud in view—but very cool. Many curious incidents in my wanderings among patients. Especially in north buildings, among the unruly members of the big household. One man there insisted I was his boy and I allowed him the fancy—a big, bearded, wide-eyed, shaggy fellow who maintains, "We are all fellows and brothers—let us live peacefully together." And a poor creature in the boilerhouse, who holds that coal is gold except for our belief that it is different. And the patients—boys and men—working about the grounds, more or less of melancholy visage and indisposition to be driven but who, some of them, talk a constant stream, or, others, will neither look at nor salute anybody, inmate, officer or stranger. Tragic demesne, relieved, however, by Bucke's methods of freedom and love.