There are innumerable islands, which lie close to the mainland, from Puerto Montt to the Fuegian Archipelago. The largest of these is Chiloé, which is a hundred miles long by from thirty to fifty miles in width. It is generally considered to be one of the sloppiest islands in the world, for that was the reputation the naturalist Darwin gave it, and his opinion has been corroborated many times. Its length runs parallel to the mainland, from which it is separated by a quite broad bay. The shores are generally wild and rather inhospitable. If one lands any place, excepting where a settler is located, the dense growth will be found almost impenetrable, with all branches dripping with moisture, and only an occasional sunbeam being able to push its way through the openings in the evergreen shrubbery. Moss-covered bogs abound in which one may sink to the waist in the mire. On this moist land everything grows with wonderful rapidity that does not require a great amount of sunshine. Moss, yards in length, and of great delicacy and beauty, hangs from the branches, while ferns and polypodia scramble up the trunks. Beautifully scalloped lichens, in brown and gold and lavender, decorate the fallen trees wherever they can take hold, and fungi covers the larger trees. Tough-fibred climbers of great length also decorate the trees. They are oftentimes employed to tie up the fences instead of nails, and are also used in weaving some of the beautiful baskets made by the natives. Brooms made of it are likewise exported. This dense growth abounds everywhere, with the exception of barren pampas which sometimes stretch for a quarter of a mile or so. Cattle will sometimes wander into these thick meshes, and no one but an Indian accustomed to the tangle can penetrate with anything like facility in their efforts to find the recalcitrant animals.