Six months in the West-Indies, in 1825

65 TRINIDAD. Bois Immortel. One main road led through, the plantation, and numberless avenues diverged from it to every other part. These alleys, as well as the whole plantation itself, were fringed with coffee bushes, which with their dark Portugal laurel leaves, jasmine blossoms and most subtile and exquisite perfume refreshed the senses and delighted the imagination. Water flowed in abundance through the wood, and gentle breezes fanned us as we sauntered along. If ever I turn planter, as I have often had thoughts of doing, I shall buy a cacao plantation in Trinidad. The cane is, no doubt, a noble plant, and perhaps crop time presents a more lively and interesting scene than harvest in England; but there is so much trash, so many ill-odoured negros, so much scum, and sling, and molasses, that my nerves have sometimes sunk under it. ' T h e sweat negociation of sugar, as old Ligon calls it, is indeed a sweaty affair; and methinks it were not good for that most ancient and most loyal colony, Barbados, that her sons should often visit the sylvan glades, the deep retreats, the quiet and the coolness of the cacao plantations in Trinidad. But planters are not poetical.

Sugar can surely never be cultivated in the West Indies except by the labor of negros, but I should think white men, creoles or not, might do all the work of a cacao plantation.

The trouble of preparing this article for exportation is actually nothing when compared F