The residence of the first Governor of Connecticut, was at Blackhall, near Long Island Sound. While British ships were lying at anchor in these waters on a certain occasion, a party of marines in pursuit of his Excellency, presented themselves at the door. It being impossible for him to escape by flight, his affectionate and thoughtful wife secreted him in a large new meat barrel or tierce—for although he was somewhat corpulent, he could not vie in physical rotundity with the early and honored Knickerbocker magistrates. He was cleverly packed away in the future home of doomed porkers, just as the soldiers entered and commenced their search. Not finding him readily, they asked his quick-witted wife one or two hard questions, but received no very enlightening answer. The Legislature had convened a day or two before at Hartford, and she intimated that he was or ought to be at the capital. Unsuccessful in their search, the soldiers took their boat and returned to the ship. Before they had reached the latter, his unpacked Honor was on a swift steed, galloping to Gubernatorial head-quarters.