The only living links between us and the remote past are trees—grand old trees with clustering memories like trailing vines. In the shadows of the dark forest, in the light of the lofty hills, in the warmth and beauty of the broad plains of the great globe, they stand in matchless dignity. But they are few. They are patriarchs of the vegetable kingdom, receiving the homage of myriads of children. With what mute eloquence do they address us? With what moving pathos do the trees of Olivet discourse of Jesus, his “beautiful life and sublime death”? How the cedars of Lebanon talk of Solomon and Hiram, and the great temple of Jerusalem! In our own country and in our own time, ancient trees have been, and still are, intimately connected with our history as colonies and as a nation; they command the reverence of every heart. Probably the most ancient of these living links connecting the present and the past was the Big Tree that stood on the bank of the Genesee River, near the village of Geneseo, New York. When first seen by the white man, it was the patriarch of the Geneseo Valley and was so revered by the Senecas that they named their village “Big Tree.” It also gave name to an eminent Seneca chief, who was the friend of Washington and his cause. During a great flood in the Geneseo Valley in 1857, the Big Tree was swept away and buried in the bottom of Lake Ontario. The trunk measured twenty-five feet, nine inches in circumference. Probably next in age to the Big Tree was the famous Charter Oak in the city of Hartford, Connecticut. It was standing at the height of its glory and was estimated to be six hundred years old when the seeds of the commonwealth were planted there. Connected with it is a curious episode. When James II ascended the English throne, he took measures to suppress the growth of free government in America; he sent over Edmond Andros to take away the charters from the colonies and to rule over them as governor general. Connecticut refused to give up her charter. When Andros attempted to seize it during a night session of the Assembly, Captain Wadsworth bore the charter away and secreted it in a hollow of the old oak. After James II had been deposed and Andros had been banished from New England, the charter was taken from its hiding place and the government re-established. On a stormy night in August, 1854, the old oak was prostrated.