-^Aprir^92'o:}      Formosa,  the  Home  of  Camphor.  239 
The  life  of  a  camphor  worker  is  indeed  an  adventurous  one;  he 
is  never  safe.  Although  a  woodman  with  an  axe  never  moves 
except  in  the  company  of  an  armed  guard,  there  is  always  danger  of 
an  ambush.  Tales  of  the  camphor  workers  recall  the  days  of  our 
pioneer  fathers  in  the  times  of  the  tomahawk,  the  poisoned  arrow, 
and  the  scalping  knife.  And  yet  if  this  menace  had  not  existed, 
the  camphor  forests  would  have  disappeared  long  ago.  Thanks  to 
the  head  hunters,  there  are  still  large  tracts  of  virgin  camphor 
forests  in  Formosa. 
Camphor  trees  grow  best  on  moderate,  vvell  drained  slopes,  not 
over  4,000  feet  in  elevation,  w^he^-e  the  sun's  rays  can  reach  them. 
Nowhere  else  in  the  world  have  these  trees  attained  such  height  and 
girth.  In  the  past,  trees  with  a  basal  circumference  of  from  30  to 
40  feet  have  been  noted,  but  these  have  inevitably  fallen  victims  to 
the  woodman's  axe.  Perhaps  in  the  uncharted  forests,  where  the 
savage  still  holds  sway,  more  of  these  noble  specimens  still  grow  un- 
scathed. At  present  a  camphor  tree  with  a  basal  circumference  of 
20  feet  is  considered  a  very  ample  specimen. 
In  the  point  of  view  of  value,  few  trees  can  rival  the  camphor. 
An  average  tree,  say  with  a  basal  circumference  of  12  feet,  will  yield 
about  50  piculs  of  camphor  (approximately  6,660  pounds),  which, 
at  present  market  price,  is  worth  about  $5,000.  Strictly  speaking, 
there  are  no  camphor  forests,  as  the  camphor  laurel  is  only  one  of  a 
number  of  trees  growing  together.  The  camphor  trees  are  unusually 
beautiful,  with  shapely  trunks  and  wide-spreading  branches  pro- 
fusely covered  with  graceful  leaves  of  a  soft  green. 
Native  stills  are  scattered  here  and  there  throughout  the  districts 
where  crude  camphor  is  collected,  packed  in  tins  and  carried  down 
precipitous  mountain  paths  on  coolies'  backs  to  the  nearest  railway 
line,  whence  it  goes  to  the  j-'efinery  at  Taihoku. 
The  still  we  visited  was  operated  by  the  members  of  one  Chinese 
family.  When  our  party  approached,  some  of  the  men  were  gouging 
chips  from  the  trunks  of  camphor  trees  with  adzes,  while  others  were 
in  the  still  feeding  the  fires.  Adjoining  the  still  was  a  shanty, 
where  the  workers  lived,  and  in  front  of  the  door  was  a  woman  pre- 
paring the  afternoon  meal,  while  beside  her  a  little  boy  was  busy 
playing  blocks  with  chips  from  which  the  camphor  had  been  ex- 
tracted. The  stills  are  operated  in  a  very  simple  manner.  Camphor 
chips  are  placed  in  a  chip  retort  over  boiling  water,  and  as  the  camphor 
vaporizes  it  passes  through  pipes  into  submerged  vats,  which  are  so 
