Our
predecessors during the early nineteenth century died of bad shelter, bad
food, and bad drink.
The town, built upon a flat partly formed by cutting away the mounds and
hillocks of red clay, was well laid out by Mr. Sam, the
District-commissioner, after its bombardment during the Ashanti war. The
main streets, or rather roads, running north-south, are avenued with
shady Ganian or umbrella figs. I should prefer the bread-tree, which here
flourishes. These thoroughfares are kept clean enough, and nuisances are
punished, as in England. Cross lines, however, are wanted; the crooked
passages between the huts do not admit the sea-breeze. Native hovels,
also, should be removed from the foreshore, which, as Admiralty property,
ought to be kept for public purposes. The native dwellings are composed of
split bamboo-fronds (_Raphia vinifera_), thatched with the foliage of the
same tree. They are mere baskets--airy, and perhaps too airy. Some are
defended against wind and wet by facings of red swish; a few, like that of
the 'king' and chief native traders, are built of adobes (sun-dried
bricks), whitewashed outside. Of this kind, too, are the stores and the
mining establishments; the 'Akankon House,' near the landing-place; the
'Gold Coast House,' in the interior; the Methodist chapel, a barn-shaped
affair; the Effuenta House to the north, and the Takwa, or French House,
to the south.
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