[Edited by Henry Howe, and read by him January 26 and February 9, 1885.]

three miles from the city, and originally was a part of the town. Through this village the red-coated British soldiery marched on the invasion of New Haven, Monday morning July 5th, 1779. After landing, the officers took breakfast at the village tavern on the site of the post-office block and paraded their men on the green, prior to resuming their long line of march. The sun poured down upon them with intense power, the opposition was galling, and when they got possession of New Haven,

So as

they found it abounding in stores of Santa Cruz rum. the story goes, they sweated, swore, fought and got dreadfully drunk on that memorable day.

The streets of West Haven are arched with noble elms and on one, Main street, about two hundred yards easterly from the village green and grave yard, stands an old house, upon the chimney of which is painted "1695," the date of its erection. It is now known as the Collins Homestead, it being the residence of Mr. D. C. Collins, photographer.

The rooms in the house are large but low between joists; the floors and ceilings only about seven feet apart. Enough timber is in it to make two or three modern dwellings. The chimney, occupying the center of the main building, is huge. It is of stone, nine by twelve feet, and takes enough space for a bachelor's bed room.

The two dates 1760 and 1847 mark two events in the history of this venerable structure, the first the birth therein of Thomas Painter and the second that of his death; the interval between, 87 years. His ancestors built it and his descendants enjoy it.

Thomas Painter in his day was one of the leaders in his parish. He was a large stalwart man, filled varied offices as Selectman, Deacon in the Congregational Church and Justice of the Peace, which last named position fixed upon him permanently the honorable title of "Squire" by which he both "went" and returned. He was an excellent citizen; his neighbors said, "Square as a die," and he was.

After the Revolutionary war he engaged in commerce and navigation from the port of New Haven, mainly with the West Indies, and thus acquired a large estate for his own comfort in his last days and the consolation of his heirs on their ending.

When advanced in years he wrote for the benefit of his family, the story of his life, from which we learn that when quite a lad he lost his parents and was brought up by his uncle Jesse Stevens, with whom he learned shoemaking and farming. The Stevens residence was the large red house now standing on Elm street near the western verge of the village, at the point

where the railroad trains from New York, after whisking around a curve, enter the place on its tangent.

At the outbreak of the Revolution, Painter, then a lad of 15, enlisted as a soldier; his place of service, New York and vicinity. He was there when the Declaration of Independence was made, and describes the pulling down, at that period, of the equestrian statue of King George, which he witnessed; it stood on Bowling Green at the foot of Broadway. He says:

"The statue of the King, being placed on a stone pillar and about twelve feet high and completely covered with gold leaf, which made it painful for the eye to look upon when the sun shone bright, but, notwithstanding all this beautiful brightness, the assembled multitude soon tumbled his majesty from his proud eminence to the ground and that of his horse, which being principally composed of lead, was soon converted into bullets to be returned back as a present to his more obedient, more faithful, more loyal subjects."

Painter remained with the army but a few months. In December he returned to West Haven and went to work shoemaking and farming with his uncle Stevens. He says:

'Thoroughly sick of a soldier's life I determined if I went into the war again to have my furniture conveyed without having it slung at my back." So the next summer he tried his fortune privateering, going on board the sloop Polly, 12 guns, Capt. Roberts, commander, and then in succession on board the Fairfield," the armed schooner "Mifflin," and the brig "Ocean," of 18 guns and in all without any noteworthy incidents. After this he shipped in a privateering whale boat on Long Island Sound, Elisha Elderkin, commander. Who Elisha Elderkin was is a mystery, only we do know that through his leadership he at once came to grief. It is probable that it was an ancestor of Elisha that figured in the famous Windham frog pond story as related in Peters' veracious history of Connecticut, at the time of the old French and Indian war, wherein the inhabitants, frightened from their midnight slumbers, on rushing out in their night clothes were met by the army of invading frogs, who demanded an interview with their leading citizens to treat for a surrender, calling out in frog intonations

"Colonel Dyer! Colonel Dyer!

Elderkin too! Elderkin too!”

The narrative of Painter's war experiences from his whale boat venture with Elderkin, as written by himself, occupies the remainder of this article. The simplicity of his story is amusing, and while reading it we can almost fancy we hear his voice talking it to us, the voice of a man "square as a die," and who returned as he "went" by the title of "Squire.”

"On first going out with Capt. Elderkin we went down to Montauk Pt. hoping to fall in with some English merchantmen bound into Newport, then in possession of the British, but not meeting with any we steered to the western part of the Sound, and when off Norwalk Island one pleasant calm morning in June, we fell in with 3 or 4 other armed whale boats and also a small schooner with some swivels mounted on the combings of the hatchways. There being in sight a sloop becalmed close in shore under Long Island, about half way between Huntington Bay & Oyster Bay, some one proposed to go over and take that sloop and tow her across the Sound. No sooner said than it was agreed to by all hands, and we were quick at our oars going for the sloop, notwithstanding there were several ships of war lying in Oyster Bay in plain sight preparing and manning their boats to oppose us. Nothing daunted, over we went, captured the sloop and took her in tow, after putting three men from each boat aboard her to fight the boats that were coming after us. There were some swivels on board the sloop and we made free use of them. The boats coming after us were 18 in number and probably not less than 130 men. Notwithstanding their superiority we beat them off on the first attack, and had got the sloop almost over to the mainland when they rallied and came up a second time right alongside of the sloop, when the whale boats cut their tow lines and made their escape, leaving those of us who were on board to be taken.

put us safely on Thus ended our

Our enemies carried us into Huntington Bay and board His Majesty's ship the Fourye, of 28 guns. whale boat cruise after a Scotch prize, and a more foolhardy transaction is not to be found on record. As soon as we were on board this ship, they threatened to hang us at the yard-arm, but finally sent us to New York on a sloop, from which we were put on board the "Good Hope," a new prison ship lying at the mouth of North river abreast of the ferry way to Powles Hook (now Jersey City).

After remaining here a few days, reflecting on my situation, considering that I had never had the small-pox, that most likely it would soon be on board, and the chance of escape being extremely bad on account of our being whale-boatmen (the worst kind of privateers), it

therefore seemed to me that some way of escape must be contrived, but how, was very difficult to determine, as at night we were barred down under deck with a guard and sentinels on deck, and only two of us allowed to come up through a small hatchway at a time.

At length the thought came to me, that if I could in any way make peace with the sentinels, two of us might possibly make our escape by taking two oars from the forecastle, swim to the boat which was moored to the buoy of the ship's anchor at slack tide, and at the first of the flood let her drop clear of the shipping with the tide, and then get up the river or over to the Jersey shore.

I revealed the plan to Capt. Elderkin, my boat-commander (the only person on board with whom I was acquainted). My idea was, that as we drew a small allowance of rum daily, we should save it until we had a junk bottle full, with which we could make the sentinels so happy that we could be enabled thereby to make our escape. We thereupon saved our allowance of rum until our bottle was full, and then waited with great impatience until we thought a favorable time had arrived. We then took our bottle and tin cup, and gained admission on deck, filled our cup with plenty of rum and very little water, invited the sentinels to partake with us, which they readily accepted, and repeated their drinks until they became so happy as to wholly neglect their duty, and suffered the other prisoners to come on deck without any restraint, which caused much noise and confusion.

Some were about making their escape by swimming to the shore. Seeing all this unthought of occurrence, and having lost my companion (Capt. Elderkin) in the crowd and bustle, I began to think that my chance of escape was lost, as I expected every moment the whole guard would be up from below and a general alarm be made; and as I could never expect another opportunity, I was determined to get overboard into the river and then sink or swim; so I ran forward by the forecastle to get down the cable, and found one of the prisoners just going down into the water. I told him that after he had got into the water I would hand him an oar, bring another with me, and we would take the boat at the buoy. He accordingly took the oar and set out for the boat, but could not stem the tide, and drifted up the river.

I therefore in my hurry very foolishly and carelessly neglected to take another oar, and came very near by that neglect losing my life; for I made haste down the cable and swam after him; immediately after the guard was on deck and gave the alarm and caught some of the prisoners part way down the cable, some in the water and some elsewhere, it being too dark to discover those in the water. Capt. Elderkin swam to the New York shore, remained there a few days, and was then discovered and returned to the prison-ship, so that I think none got away excepting myself.

Soon after I got into the water I caught a draft of salt water in my mouth, which almost strangled me, and while trying to get clear of