DOWN FERRY LANE. 



"There were Bobolincon, Wadolincon, Winterseeble, Con- 

 queedle — 



A livelier set was never led by tabor, pipe, or fiddle, — 

 Crying, 'Phew, shew, Wadolincon, see, see Bobolincon, 

 Down among the tickletops, hiding in the buttercups!' 

 I know the saucy chap, I see his shining cap 

 Bobbing in the clover there — see, see, see!" 



Wilson Flagg. 



Come with me to the meadows in June and hear 

 the bobolinks sing ! Let us start at the head of Ferry- 

 Lane, opposite the North Church, drop down the hill 

 and over the track, and follow this ancient thorough- 

 fare even to the river bank. All around us lie the 

 fertile intervals that caused the settlement of Con- 

 cord. Hereabout are the bends in the river that gave 

 us the Indian name of Penacook, Crooked Place. 

 Just across lies Sugar Ball, the kettle-shaped hollow 

 scooped out of the Bluffs, one of the most historic 

 spots in town. On its northerly side tradition lo- 

 cates the famous Indian fort ; on the plain toward the 

 east stands the monument commemorating the first 

 religious service held in Central New Hampshire; on 

 its southern rim, through the fringe of birches, out- 



