The Rhode Island Sycamore 



One disastrous result of the British occupation of Rhode Island 

 from 1776 to 1779, was the ruthless destruction of its forests, specially 

 along the coast region. During the severe winter of 1780, when many 

 refugees from the State returned to their homes, wood was so scarce 

 that in Newport it sold at $20.00 a cord. 



One ancient sycamore remained, however, mysteriously spared to 

 mourn its departed comrades. It stood on the estate of Thomas R. 

 Hazard, between the house and the Seaconnet or Eastern Channel. A 

 few years before the old tree fell in 1869, its trunk measured thirty- 

 two feet in circumference at twelve inches from the ground. Its upper 

 portion destroyed by wind and storm, it has been described as "the pic- 

 ture of a desolated Anak of the woods." 



Probably numbering its years at several centuries, the Rhode 

 Island Sycamore may have witnessed stirring events unrecorded in 

 American history, as well as the tragic days of the Revolution. One 

 daring episode that transpired nearby, just below Vaucluse, Avas the 

 capture of Pigot, the floating battery, equipped with twelve eight- 

 pounders and ten swivels, which the British were using to block the 

 Channel. Captain Silas Talbot undei'took its removal; arming the 

 Hawk, a coasting schooner, with sixty-eight men he sailed down under 

 cover of a dark night, secured his prisoners by fastening cables over 

 the hatchway, and carried his prize off to Stonington. 



The Charlemont Buttonwood 



Another historic sycamore or buttonwood stands in the town of 

 Charlemont, Mass., near the Deerfield River. It is a noble shade tree, 

 ninety-eight feet in height, while its branches cast their shadow over a 

 radius of eighty-five feet. Under them passes one of the ancient 

 highways of the Indians, the "Mohawk Trail." 



Captain Moses Rice, the first pioneer settler of the place, has 

 left the record, handed down from one member of his family to an- 

 other, that "he had slept under the Buttonwood tree Avhen there was 

 not another white person in town." 



He had come to a region that was hostile to strangers, though 

 for a while the household was unmolested, and was a centre of hospi- 

 tality for travelers. But in 1746, Captain Rice and his family were 

 forced to escape to Rutland in order to save their scalps from the 

 savages. Three years later he returned to find the house destroyed, 

 and unluckily for himself, rebuilt it. 



He was ploughing, in company with his son, grandson, and two 

 friends on the morning of June 11, 1755, when a party of six Indians, 

 who were hidden among the trees, waiting the moment most favor- 

 able to an attack, fired and surrounded them. Captain Rice was 

 badly wounded, and after a sharp struggle, was scalped and left bleed- 

 ing, while his companions were either killed or made prisoners. A few 

 hours later he died at his son's house. 



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