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April 22, '04

My dear Mother,
 
I have been waiting over one mail, to hear of my painting in the Academy, and in the meantime [[strikethrough]] f [[/strikethrough]] have collected these clippings from the papers - feeling that I was not one of them.
 
This noon I received the enclosed from the Academy. Fired out by the Hangers - who should be hung. I am pained only on account of the disappointment to you. My feelings at this moment surprise me, it is not one of anger or discouragement it is indifference. 
 
I have become [[strikethrough]] to [[/strikethrough]] accustomed to the closed door, perhaps. The exhibition opens in six days and without me. I shall now continue to advance my painting and whatever happens regarding future plans have another try at the next years show. Sometimes I believe it would be best to paint for the so called market. But I have a contempt for the pretty colored saleable-English picture. It certainly would be wise for me to try painting gems and not eight foot canvases. It is a pity that canvas was so large. You remember the old adage of the stone and moss, so do let me keep to my resolve to not leave London until I get on. You know I have some anxiety, and I assure you it is not misplaced, but misjudged. I am just settling

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Reviewer: edits made, ready to Complete.