The
view from this harbor of the "Beautiful Island" was an enchanting
one. Before them, toward the east, rose tier upon tier of magnificent
mountains, stretching north and south. Down their sloping sides tumbled
sparkling cascades and here and there patches of bright green showed
where there were tea plantations. Farther down were stretches of grass
and groves of lovely feathery bamboo. And between these groves stretched
what seemed to be little silvery lakes, with the reflection of the great
mountains in them. They were really the famous rice-fields of Formosa,
at this time of the year all under water. There were no fences round
their little lake-fields. They were of all shapes and sizes, and were
divided from each other by little green fringed dykes or walls. Each
row of fields was lower than the last until they came right down to the
sea-level, and all lay blue and smiling in the blazing sunlight.

As the young missionary stood spellbound, gazing over the lovely,
fairylike scene, Mr. Ritchie touched his arm.

"This is your parish, Mackay," he whispered smilingly.

And then for the first time since he had started on his long, long
journey, the young missionary felt his spirit at peace. The restlessness
that had driven him on from one Chinese port to another was gone. This
was indeed his parish.

Suddenly out swung a signal; the tide had risen. Up came the anchor, and
away they glided over the now submerged sand-bar into the harbor.

A nearer view showed greater charms in the Beautiful Isle. On the south,
at their right, lay the great Quan Yin mountain, towering seventeen
hundred feet above them, clothed in tall grass and groves of bamboo,
banyan, and fir trees of every conceivable shade of green. Nestling at
its feet were little villages almost buried in trees. Slowly the ship
drifted along, passing, here a queer fishing village close to the sandy
shore, yonder a light-house, there a battered Chinese fort rising from
the top of a hill.

And now Tamsui came in sight--the new home of the young missionary. It
seemed to him that it was the prettiest and the dirtiest place he had
ever seen. The town lay along the bank of the river at the foot of a
hill. This bluff rose abruptly behind it to a height of two hundred
feet. On its face stood a queer-looking building. It was red in color,
solid and weather worn, and above it floated the grand old flag of
Britain.

"That's an old Dutch fort," explained Mr. Ritchie, "lef