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Mar 28, 1901

My dear Mother -

I should like to be at home on your birthday in order to kiss some seventy odd times. That would have been about four for each year. I trust the day was a smiling one.

A life time here, and still one could not see all the beauty of this ever changing city. Last week started with a snow storm and Paris looked beautiful - so mysterious that I deserted the galleries to paint by the river. Today (Saturday in one breath the snow has been swept away and spring is here - Il now dream of fair spreading trees, piping birds, green meadows, singing brooks - redding wine &c. Spring has come. After a sunless winter. Every day now I can warm my clean self out of doors, breath in the sunshine. No more open fires, thank-you.

In this mail I forward eleven sketches: All are not good, but some as impressions have given me great pleasure. My stay in London was disappointing for the reason of the impossible weather for out door sketching but [[strikethrough]] kn [[/strikethrough]] now each day is ideal - and you may expect more. Please do as you did when many years-ago [[strikethrough]] you [[/strikethrough]] a small boy whose heart and soul filled with love and enthusiasm