Today I responded to two more advertisements, I’ll go on doing it, even though most of my letters remain unanswered.

My time here is running out.

You’ll surely see many beautiful things on your trip;1 although a feeling for nature isn’t it, it’s nonetheless a wonderful thing to have; may it always remain with us.

And now you’ll be ‘boarding in many inns’,2 that’s also a singular pleasure at times. You know that I once went to Brighton on foot.3 I always think back on it with pleasure. Lodging-houses in England are often so pleasant,  1r:2 Longfellow describes this well in Tales of the wayside inn.4

Gladwell is getting my place at the gallery; he’s there already, learning the ropes before I leave. I’ve seen quite a few paintings that are going to the Salon, including two very beautiful, large Gabriëls, a morning in the meadows, through the dew one sees a town in the distance, the other one was what we would call a watery sun.5

Also 2 large Xavier de Cocks, one of them an evening at the beginning of summer, a meadow surrounded by poplars; in the distance a farmhouse and fields and a girl bringing the cows home. In the foreground a pond, next to which 3 cows – a white one, a black one and a red one – lie in the grass; the sun has already set and the sky is pale yellow, the trees dark against it.6

I’m writing in great haste, as you’ll see from my handwriting.7 Have a good trip, and ever,