this idea
was entrusted to Chevalier Desclieux, who, provided with a young
coffee-plant, set out from Nantes, thence to convey it to Martinique.
Imbedded in its native mould, the precious exile was placed in an
oak-wood box, impenetrable to cold, and covered with a glass frame so
formed as to catch the least ray of the sun and double its heat; and
in case the sun did not shine, a small aperture, hermetically sealed,
could admit heated air, when it was thought proper to do so. We can
imagine all the charges Desclieux received when he entered the ship
in which he was to embark: but he did not need them; he saw at a
glance all the distinction he would gain by this expedition, which
would secure to his country an inexhaustible source of riches. It was
then, with a really patriotic feeling, that he took the plant under
his care, promising to devote himself to it as he would to his
country, and to all the duties of his profession. And when the skiff,
after having quitted the vessel, returned again to renew the charge,
and to remind Desclieux once more that the plant must be watered
every day, and that copiously, he pledged his honour that, rather
than fail in this, he would himself die of thirst.

The ship sailed; the crew was composed of about one hundred men, and
of some passengers about to settle in the Antilles, amongst whom was
an amiable family, consisting of father, mother, and their only
daughter Louisa, a beautiful and accomplished girl of eighteen. In a
vessel where people are so much thrown together, meeting constantly
for a length of time, destined perhaps to share the same death, but
little time is required to form an intimacy which often ripens into
lasting friendship; and thus it proved in the case of the parents of
Louisa and Desclieux. Scarcely had they passed the light-house of
Cordouan, glittering in the twilight of a lovely evening, when they
were already friends. Already this fresh and delicate plant,
interesting as an exile, as a flower transplanted from its own soil,
as a child torn from its mother, became a mutual object of
attraction. It was thus that Louisa pointed it out to her parents as
it lay on the deck in its glass case, exposed to the mid-day sun. She
charmed the tedium of the voyage in hourly watching the progress
which she believed visible in the feeble offset. She had felt
interested in it from the moment Desclieux had shown her all the
glory he was to gain by it for France, and then she