A COUNTRY ROAD NEAR TAIWANFU.
BEFORE I quit Formosa I must afford a glimpse of the sylvan groves round Taiwanfu, the capital, as shown in No. 13. In the old forts Zelandia and Provincia, and in the noble parks within the city walls, traces of the early Dutch settlers may still be discovered. A tragic history attaches to Taiwanfu. It witnessed that fierce struggle which closed with the final expulsion of the Dutch in the year 166 1, and then on the 1 ith day of August, 1842, the parade ground beyond the northern gate was reddened with the blood of 197 of our countrymen who had been cast ashore upon the island; but before this massacre was over a fearful storm burst upon the scene, and raged without ceasing for more than three days, swelling the rivers and flooding the land, and destroying nearly 2,000 lives. An aged Chinaman remarked to my friend Dr. Maxwell, in allusion to the incident, "It was a black day for Formosa, that nth of August." Many other events, no less calamitous, and of still more recent date, might be recorded of this city, which happened about the time of the storming of Anping, when our late and much-esteemed consul, Mr. Gibson, by his prompt and vigorous action, saved the lives and property of the foreign residents at the port. As we stroll through the parks or outer lanes of Taiwanfu, we shall discover nothing in their still and peaceful environs to remind us of the fierce conflicts that have raged within the city. The whole vicinage now wears an aspect of quiet repose, disturbed only by the drowsy hum of the produce-laden cart as it wends its way to market, or by the merry voices of children at play. The carts I have referred to are peculiar to the island, and I will therefore endeavour to describe one. The distant sound of a cart as it traverses the dry road on its drier axles, recalls, strange as it may appear, the full mellow tones of an organ. The whole contrivance is made of wood bound together with ratan. It is carried on two wheels, each a solid wooden disc of about four feet span. These vehicles are drawn by the huge Water buffalo, a brute alike remarkable for its sleepy aspect, its great working power, and for its docility among friends. But it is distrustful of strangers, and fierce, destructive and uncontrollable when its fury has been aroused. Then its giant horns become the most formidable and deadly weapons. Yet I have seen these unwieldy animals rolling in the shade with a group of children hanging about their horns, peering into their mouths and nostrils, or catching flies on their black, india-rubber-looking backs.
The lanes of Taiwanfu are commonly between two cactus hedges gay with the major convolvulus, the fuchsia and many other wild flowers. Their blossoms show out brilliantly against the background of green, while overhead the bamboo rears its stately plumes and branches to form a pointed arch of shade above the path. The slender stems nod to every passing breeze, and fitful gleams of sunshine light up the flowers and foliage beneath. A scene more bright and beautiful could rarely be found.
No. 14, the catamaran of Formosa, is an ingeniously constructed raft for landing in rough weather on the western coast. At Taiwanfu, there are several miles of shallow water to be encountered before we reach the shore, and the sea breaks with great violence there during, at least, four months of the year. The raft is made of bamboos which have been bent by heating them, so that they form a slightly hollow vessel. The poles are lashed together with ratan, and a space, or interval, is left between each for the free passage of the water. In the centre of the raft a block is fixed, and in this the mast is secured. Passengers are accommodated in a tub placed to the rear of the mast. This tub is merely laid on the raft, without any fastening whatever; it is therefore
