HONG-KONG.
HONG-KONG is one of a group of islands situated a little north of the mouth of the Canton or Pearl river. It is about ten miles long, by four and a-half in breadth, and of igneous formation. From east to west, along its entire length, there runs a central rocky ridge or spine, chiefly composed of granite, and broken up into a series of jagged peaks, whose greatest elevation is 1,900 feet. Viewed from a distance, Hong-Kong may be readily distinguished from the islands which surround it by the bold outlines, and superior altitude, of its hills. The contrast in many cases being as striking as that between the islands of Arran and Bute. The granite in some parts of the island is in a state of disintegration; but great masses of the solid stone are to be found, and have proved of service in the construction of the forts, the docks, and the city of Victoria. The latter is to the north of the island, on the slope of the hill named Victoria Peak, and faces that portion of the mainland which is known as British Kowloon. The Kowloon coast here, and the northern shore of Hong-Kong, combine to form one of the finest harbours in the world, having a space of over six miles in length by two in breadth, available for the safe anchorage of the largest ships. The view which fronts this page is taken from the residence of Messrs. Jardine Matheson and Co. at East Point. In the immediate foreground is shown the entrance to Wong-nei-chong or Happy Valley, noted for its picturesque hill scenery, its race-course, and its cemetery for Europeans. The eminence to the left is Morrison's Hill, crowned with a row of substantially built foreign residences, and commanding an extensive and imposing view of the city and ports.
Victoria, with its long line of wharves and warehouses, its public buildings, and its private residences in elegant rows, is seen resting on the slope of the hill; while characteristic masses of fleecy cloud are wrapt around the peak above. The masts of the shipping, which rise like a forest about the Victoria promontory, may give the reader some conception of the magnitude of our trade at Hong-Kong. By the treaty of Nankin, in 1842, the island was ceded to the British, and was erected into a colony on the 5th of April, 1843.
Previous to the above dates Hong-Kong was as barren and uninteresting as the islands around it at the present day, where one can find nothing more than a few fishing hamlets, enjoying, however, a degree of prosperity unknown before the advent of the British flag. There is only one ancient privilege the loss of which these villagers, it may be, deplore. Those among them who wore the peaceful garb of fishermen used to vary their pursuits, a little more than twenty-five years ago, by engaging in piracy when opportunities occurred. So confirmed is their relish for buccaneering, that, in spite of the heavy penalties now imposed upon the crime, it has not yet been completely rooted out; and, although much rarer, we still hear of piratical outrages in or near the very harbour of Hong-Kong. Such notices as the following, not unfrequent during the early history of the colony, are happily seldom met with in the present day :—"In March, 1846, a large body of pirates, some eighty in number, plundered the village of Shek-pai-wan,"[1] now known to foreigners as Aberdeen, and boasting an extensive dock. "On the 25th of April, 1854, a severe encounter took place between the police and a gang of hill robbers at Shek-pai-wan, in which several of the robbers were shot."[2] Twenty-two piracies are noted in Hong-Kong waters between the 1st November, 1856, and 15th January, 1857."[3]
On the 15th January, 1857, an attempt was made to poison the entire foreign community by the Chinese bakers, who introduced arsenic into the bread. Had the drug been admixed in smaller quantities, an awful catastrophe might have taken place. But the presence of the poison was so easily detected, that public criers, promptly sent round, were in time to prevent many from taking the bread. These bakers had, no doubt, been bribed by more
influential parties; but we believe few, if any, of the offenders were punished for the crime. When to the foregoing calendar of horrors we add the malignant fever, which swept off foreigners by the score, due, as was supposed, to the noxious gases exhaled from the surfaces of decomposed granite laid bare during the erection of the city, we must admit that the island fairly earned its reputation as the grave of Europeans.
