The harbour of Massachusetts' Bay is spacious and affords good anchorage for ships of the largest class. The only part of it, however, where landing is not attended with difficulty and some danger, is the east side, where there is a fine sand beach from a quarter to half a mile long, at one extremity of which empties a small rivulet of pure and excellent water into the bay. Landing may be effected at the watering-place beyond Porter's Monument, where there is a more considerable stream of fresh water, but it is always difficult, and when the surf is high, cannot fail to be dangerous. At this place we watered the Dolphin; but had to swim the casks to and from the shore, and altogether, it was a laborious undertaking. Along the east and north part of the bay there is a long reef that makes at a short distance from the shore, upon which a heavy surf is always breaking. In entering the bay, the whole habitable part of this section of the island is presented at one view, and forms a most grand and beautiful landscape. It is nearly semi-circular, and rises like an amphitheatre, in fruitful and populous circular ranges of hills, until at the distance of several miles, it terminates in a circumference of high and gloomy mountains, the tops of which resemble a massive wall. This rude and barren circle of mountain contrasts finely with the fertile ranges below, covered with their forests of cocoa-nut and bread-fruit trees, and huts and villages every where scattered about through hill and dale. Nor is the extreme elevation without its interest and beauty. A number of little cataracts reflecting the rays of the sun and looking like sheets of liquid silver, break in upon the gloom of the sterile rock, adding brilliancy as they descend to the lively prospect below. After a shower, not less than fifty of these splendid falls of water may be seen, some of which are but just perceptible through the intervening space between hills and trees, producing an effect peculiarly agreeable. What is called Porter's Monument, is a round hill from fifty to an hundred feet high, situated at the east extremity of the bay. It was here that Commodore Porter had his Fort, not a vestige of which is now remaining. It is overrun with a wild luxuriant growth of vines and grass, and no trace of a footstep can be found. On one side of the hill, near its base, was stretched a bark line, which was attended by a man who calls himself Opotee, and who declares the hill beyond it to be tabooed. Upon one occasion, as I was approaching it, some natives called out "Taboo, Taboo!" but Opotee immediately expressed his willingness that I should pass, as I was a countryman of his namesake, Opotee. To the north of Porter's Monument, and back from the sand beach, where was the navy-yard, all is now overgrown with bushes and trees, some of which have attained to a considerable size. Like the monument, there is no indication of its ever having been occupied for any human purpose,