Saturday, Aug 28, 1880 Irving and I went fishing out to the Flat-bush ice house this morning. Just as we were about to start a telegram came from Mary Gifford telling me Sanford was dying. Though I had been fearing this it came to me with unutterable sadness. I drove down to the Strand to see if there were any letters and I met the telegraph messenger with another dispatch from Giffords wife to the same effect. She evidently did not know Mary had telegraphed me. We drove out to the ice house. It was very hot with a strong wind from the South and I felt most sad and overwhelmed with sorrow. We took Park along but he lost us out there and when we came home we found him here. Laura came by the Powell this evening. Joe Tomkins telegraphed me this afternoon that he had seen Platt and he had told him Gifford was not expected to live from hour to hour. So one by one break the links that hold us to this changeful life. When I think of going to my studio in New York this winter and that I shall never find dear Gifford there again I can hardly bear the thought. Now while I write this evening that noble heart I fear is still in death. There was no letter from them by the evening mail. A letter from Sara with many recollections of darling Gertrude. Her last letter from there as she is to leave there tomorrow night.
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