Saturday, Feb 17, 1883 Geo. B. Wood of Philadelphia called. I somehow had got an idea, perhaps from no particular reason, that he was rather a struggling artist. He showed me a collection of photographs to which art he is devoting a good deal of attention just now. Among them was one of a large ancestral looking stone house with ample grounds which he said was his. Certainly one would have to be well to do to live in such a place. I went home by the 3.30 train. There was a good deal of water on the ice, otherwise the crossing was perfectly good. Found my mother about the same. It grew colder in the night and froze.
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