Norwich bulletin., 1910-04-12
(Written for The Eulletin.)

As I was passing along the street the other day I came to the house of a -well-to-d do man that gave me no little surprise. Had it been in some other section of the city, and before some other house, there would have been no astonisment whatever But John Bradford Winthrop. did not live in the slums occupying a crowded ten- emept house with only large back yard and squalid surroundings. He owned a large and comfortable house on Excelsior avenue that represented for the most part the homes of men in easy circumstances. Nabob Ter race, where every householder keeps a gardener, is not the only place that ought to be free of dirt and litter; even Narrow Alley. where no garden CT is employed, filth is inexcusable. But here on Excelsior avenue, in the goodly City of Satisfaction, why men like J. Bradford Winthrop, intelligent, upright and influential, should take so little fntepest in beautifying their premises. is certainly hard to see.
 Several things surprised me as I rauSed in front of his residence; why does he allow his house to take on a d1lapidated appearance when fresh coat of paint would make it look like new? Why does he let the tar walk wear out, and the curbing get out of plumb? Has he never heard that "a stitch in time saves nine ?' AS a shreWd business man does he not know that there is no money in letting prop erty run down?
 It was while n1using of these things that I thought someone was speaking behind me. Turning about and facing the lawn saw no one from whom the sound proceeded And still the sounds continued low, clear and plaintive, and it was not until I had put my ear close to the ground that those sounds conveyed any meaning could not catch al that was said, but the fol- lowing was the drift of the conversa- tion:
 Its as mean as dirt that I'm kept from the sunshine and air! After my long sleep of months in the frozen ground. when the warmth and moist ure makes me stretch my legs and yawn. do think they might give me a breath of fresh air!"
 So curious was to learn where that voice came from that I took the lib erty to overturn an old rotten board that lay on the lawn close to the side walk. There I found the sickly, dis- torted form of Lady DaffodiI vainly striving to reach the light and air.
 oh thank youi', she said in a feeble voice. 'T couldn't have stood it much longer. I don't see what men keen rotten boards for on the lawni They're unsightly and unhealthy, and they keep us from growing that, at least, have the merit of beauty and fragrance"
 its a burning disgrace'' said MT. Crocus. nearby. turning red with in dignation as he spoke. If I could have moved from this spot would have given you a lift. It reminds me of the time I had getting into this world that doesn't half appreciate us. After the frost let go of me, I had to poke my nose up through a mass of rotten leaves and old dead grass and after I was fairly started. out came the iron rake-twO weeks behind time and anutilated my side, so as to make me a cripple for year. But the worst of it is the old simpleton of a man who came near taking my life bent over me this morning and then shout ed to his wife:
 Martha, Martha, I don't think these crocuses are going to do much this yeLr;' Why couldn't ! have been