Connecticut, and a piece of his saddle was found there at about
the same time. The tradition in Wilton is that the ox-cart
carrying the broken statue passed through Wilton on its way to
Litchfield, and that the saddle and the tail were thrown away
there. Just why, no one knows; perhaps the load was too heavy;
possibly--some people think--because it was found that they were
not of pure lead and could not be used to make bullets. Most of
the statue, however, seems to have reached Litchfield safely.

On the beautiful broad South Street of that village, high in the
Connecticut hills, the house of General Wolcott, afterwards
Governor Wolcott, of Connecticut, still stands under its old
trees much as it stood in the summer of 1776.

When the pieces of the leaden statue reached Litchfield, they
were buried temporarily in the "Wolcott orchard under an apple
tree of the Pound variety" that stood near the southeast corner
of the house. And then, sometime later, there came a day when
King George, who had once sat so securely on his solid steed,
close to his fort in his good city of New York, was taken out of
this last hiding-place and, together with his leaden horse, was
melted down and run into bullets to be fired at his own soldiers.

Bullet-moulds of the time of the Revolution can be seen now in
historical museums. Some of them are shaped like a large pair of
shears. The work of running the bullets that day in Litchfield
was done by women and girls, for the men were away at the war.
The only man who took part in it, besides the general himself,
was Frederick, his ten-year-old son, and he, many years later,
told how he remembered the event, how a shed was built in the