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does not go to this train on Sunday. The passengers by it came over on a little tug. Weir was not among them but a passenger who rode up the hill with me told me a tall gentleman who came up on the train did not like to cross in the little boat as the wind was blowing and remained at the hotel. Jimmy and I took Park for a long walk this morning down at McCauslands. 

Monday Aug. 30" 1880. Went down again this morning for Weir who came over with the 8 o'clock boat. It has rained all night and most of the day. He and I went over to the cemetery and to Kingston this afternoon to call on some relatives of his. Joe Tomkins came this evening. Letters from Booth from Leamington. Is going to act Hamlet at the new Princess Theatre in Oct. and had been to see the Leycesters at Tofft [[Toft]] and had a charming visit. Letter from Stedman Major Wilkinson and Downing. Weir and I have talked of Gifford a great deal.

Tuesday Aug. 31. Weir and I went to Hudson to attend Giffords funeral, by the 11 o'clock train. Major Wilkinson met us at the train. A party of friends was to come from N.Y. to Arrive there at 2 and we went to the hotel and awaited them and had lunch there. Platt and his wife Mr + Mrs. Wheeler, Gray, Mr. Wilson, Beauvelt, Richard and Cyrus Butter, Hubbard Whittredge. The services were at his fathers house at 3 oclock and Dr Bellows's discourse was a most appreciative exposition of Giffords time and noble and simple life and character. One thought struck me forcibly; that the face of the dead reflected the whole life and bade all look upon Giffords serene and hopeful and contented face. He read a letter Gifford dictated to his Mother, who is a professor of religion and always wished he might be. He told her he was happy, ready to die and had the consciousness of having done his duty as he understood it. His faith in immortality was strong and settled and he was entirely prepared to die. Platt Richard Butter, Weir, Whittredge, Hubbard and I acted as bearer and placed him in his grave. It was a beautiful day and as Dr. Bellows remarked it was fitting that the painter of the summer should go to this rest on this last beautiful day of the summer. He was buried in the Cemetery in the family plot just outside the city. His father and mother his wife, and his sisters and brothers were all present and bore themselves with the greatest calmness. It was death in its fairest guise. After the funeral we all, even fifteen or twenty of his immediate friends went to the