Arica is the first port of importance in Chile at the north. It is only a day’s journey from Mollendo, the last Peruvian port. The Peruvian heaves a sigh when he enters Arica, but there is some hope in it, for he trusts to add this province to Peru’s possessions at some time in the future again. But at Iquique the hope fades, for sovereignty is lost for ever. Although not a large town, Arica has been the scene of several memorable events. It was here that were built the boats which carried the troops for the conquest of Chile. It was at that time a place of some importance among the natives, and the valleys back of it were densely populated and were cultivated by means of irrigation. Sir Francis Drake touched at this place in 1579, and found a collection of Indian huts on the shore. It is supposed to have been founded in 1250 by the Incas. It is like an oasis in the desert to the traveller who has coasted along the shore for days or weeks without seeing vegetation. At the present time it is famous for its oranges. They are grown in the rich valleys that lie behind the rather unattractive and forbidding hills next to the coast, and through the opening in the flat-topped hills one is permitted to catch glimpses of these valleys. Near the coast is a prehistoric cemetery filled with dead bodies, which were embalmed with almost as great skill as the mummies of Egypt. Arica is a pleasant little place of several thousand inhabitants. There is a handsome little plaza which encloses a plot of shrubbery adorned with morning-glories and purple vine trees. One of the striking features is the brilliant colouring of the houses. There is also a rather imposing parochial church which is painted in the gaudiest colours that I have seen in any country; and it would be hard to duplicate it anywhere, even in Spanish America, a land of rich colouring. It used to be a great market for the skins of the vicuña, which are so beautiful. In late years, however, the skins are becoming less plentiful and the prices have jumped accordingly. The harbour is commodious and well sheltered. Interesting glimpses of native life are afforded by the Indian women coming to town. Some of them ride astride, being almost concealed by the huge panniers containing their market produce. Others trudge along by the side of the animals.