The Farrands, name originally spelled Ferrant, were Huguenots, and presumably were part of the emigrants who left France owing to the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, following which several hundred thousand Frenchmen were compelled to seek refuge in other lands. A considerable colony of these settled in the neighborhood of New York during the early part of the eighteenth century. There is nothing further of interest concerning the old Bloomfield road; the short stretch beyond the canal which lies within the confines of Woodside offers no discoverable history or legend that may be used for this sketch. MURPHY’S LANE. The Lower Road From Belleville to Bloomfield. THE VAN RIPER FLOWER GARDEN. One who knew Murphy’s lane in years gone by would naturally begin with Charlie Van Riper’s flower garden. When we were young, Charlie Van Riper lived in a frame house, the northern windows of which overlooked Second river. The foreground of his view was a neglected expanse through which meandered Murphy’s lane, and also a second cart track which, as I recall it, merely shortened the distance a few feet for those seeking “Murphytown” from the south. This cart track, which is now Sylvan avenue, west of Summer avenue, ran close by the old-fashioned flower garden, which Charlie knew so well how to encourage to do its best, with its marigolds and hollyhocks, and all the old friends set out in little odd-shaped beds bordered with box. Charlie was as generous with his flowers as his flowers were generous to him, and many a child who stopped to gaze through the picket fence into that wonderland of gorgeous color went on his way with a bunch of blossoms given to him by the kind old soul. That portion of the wild land which was not interfered with by the traffic of Murphy’s lane offered inducements to the youngsters that I am inclined to think they rather preferred to the Van Riper flowers, and these were the hazel bushes which grew in abundance, the ripened fruit of which was a great attraction. BIRD’S WOODS. “Bird’s Woods”, where “The slant yellow beam down the wood-aisle doth seem like a lane into Heaven that leads from a dream”, should have had a Sidney Lanier to immortalize its cool and delicious depths. It was the picnic resort of many a Sunday school, but picnics in the early days were simple affairs and did not call for changes that seriously marred the beauty of the forest. The growth was almost wholly pine and hemlock, and the balsam-laden air is refreshing even yet to think of. A few swings and a sheltered platform, where lunch was served, were the only attempts of man to improve on the situation.