On Easter Monday we went up to visit the Murrys & see Hampstead Heath.  Our verdict was that the crowd at close quarters is detestable; it smells; it sticks; it has neither vitality nor colour; it is a tepid mass of flesh scarcely organised into human life.  How slow they walk! How passively and brutishly they lie on the grass!  How little of pleasure or pain is in them! But they looked well dressed & well fed; & at a distance among the canary coloured swings & roundabouts they had the look of a picture...Yet the sight had its charm: I liked the bladders, & the little penny sticks, & the sight of two elaborate dancers performing to a barrel organ in a space the size of a hearthrug.