From the top of the hill, we descended in a different direction on our return, with a view of passing through a part of the valley that runs far back from the shore between the mountains, where it appeared to be finely cultivated and well inhabited. We had not gone far from the fort, when we found ourselves near the centre of what had been the crater of a volcano, and which, from its resemblance, has given the eminence the name of the Punch Bowl, by which it is familiarly known amongst foreigners. The crater is about a quarter or half a mile in diameter, and from one to two hundred feet deep. When we descended to the valley, which was not without difficulty, our way was every where interrupted by tarrow patches, their ditches, and embankments. After crossing a small valley, we came to an elevated piece of ground, where the natives who cultivated the tarrow below, had built their habitations, and around them planted groves of Banana. It was a fine morning, and the people of both sexes were industriously engaged in their appropriate occupations. Some of the women were roasting tarrow, and others making it up in poye. The latter operation was interesting to me, as I had never seen it before. When the tarrow is roasted, and the skin taken off, it resembles a potatoe; it is then put into a tray, and with a long, smooth stone, beaten up as fine as possible, occasionally mixing a small quantity of water with it; after it has been beaten in this way, it is worked over a number of times, to get all the lumps out; it then has the appearance of a thick paste or starch. A soon as it foments a little and becomes slightly acid, it is used. When in this state, it will not last long before it becomes very sour, and is then considered so unwholesome, that unless the people are very poor, it is thrown away.