Thirty years ago this entire island was roamed and hunted over by the aborigines. The fact that the northern part consisted of open country, with few ranges of hills, caused the white man to look upon it with envious eyes, as pasturage for sheep. Then began a warfare against the Indians which almost resulted in their extermination. Thousands of sheep now quietly graze in the rich valleys and on the verdant plains, and thrive very well indeed. Very little of the land is cultivated, although perhaps susceptible of cultivation, but the marketing of the products would be a difficult feature at the present time, and the season is short. Its latitude is about that of Labrador but the climate is probably milder, and its longitude is that of Boston. In the summer the grass is green, but in the winter the chilly winds change it to a rich brown. The ground rats are a terrible nuisance to the farmer, as they burrow in the fields so much that they destroy half the usefulness of a good meadow. The mountain slopes are covered with a thick growth of trees, ferns and mosses up to a height of a thousand feet or more, due to the great amount of rainfall, but above that distance the growth is very stunted. It seems strange to see green trees and green grasses amid snows and glaciers, but such is the contrast offered by this “land of the fire.” The trees are mostly evergreen, not very high, but very close together. A deep bed of moss, into which a man may sink knee-deep, generally surrounds them, and large ferns with leaves a yard long grow in places otherwise bare. Even bright flowers make this sombre landscape seem almost gay when the sun shines on a summer day. Desolation Island, on the Chilean side, is a bleak and barren island well indicated by its name, while others are Clarence, St. Inas, and Navarin. There are many others, from islands twenty miles in length to some so small that a good base-ball pitcher could toss a stone clear over them. Cape Horn is a monster rock which thrusts its jagged outline into the Antarctic seas. It is a couple of hundred miles south of the Straits of Magellan, and more than a thousand miles south of the Cape of Good Hope. It is surrounded by waters that are tossed by terrific storms which mariners fear. The hulks of wrecked vessels can be seen on every hand as reminders of the terrible tribute which has been here levied. Even in the Straits of Magellan the glaciers are always in sight, and masses of ice hundreds of feet high are frequently seen, seeming to threaten the venturesome mariner for invading those beautiful waters. It is sometimes impossible for vessels to force their way through the Smythe Channel, which is the most picturesque route through the Straits, but is least used. There is not much animal life except seals, with occasionally a whale, but wild ducks and geese are generally plentiful.