Behind the city, rising above the valley like the walls of an amphitheatre, are three majestic peaks, Pichu-pichu to the east, Chacchani to the north, and the white-crested Misti in the centre; and far in the distance, beyond the valley, the snowy summit of Coropuna, more than twenty thousand feet high, towers like a distant sentinel guarding the approach to some sacred shrine. But it is the Misti that dominates the scene, as one approaches the lovely valley. The grandeur and sublimity of this noble peak lies not only in its altitude, over nineteen thousand feet, but in its clear-cut conical form and in the mantle of snow that perpetually crowns its summit. There is little about its appearance to suggest the terrible explosions of flame and lava which once burst from its crater, and the only fire the imagination can associate with its pure white summit, is that of the altar of worship. What an ideal temple it would have been for the Virgins of the Sun! [Illustration: THE CRATER OF THE MISTI.] The Misti has its legends—what volcano has not?—and we are told the reason why its fire is now quenched and its red mouth sealed with snow. Ages ago, when it was a monster of destructive passion, scorching with its hot breath and poisoning with its venomous lava all the beautiful things of the valley, the Children of the Sun complained to their celestial father, beseeching him to stifle the evil genius and save them from his malevolence. The Sun, the father of goodness, irritated by the giant’s wickedness, drowned him in his own liquid fire, and sealed the top of the _Cerro_ with a wafer of snow, more impenetrable than granite, so that the monster might nevermore be able to breathe, in case some evil spirit were to try to bring it back to life. Another legend says that St. Thomas, when preaching in this region, was so indignant at the presumption of this thing of fire and destruction, that he threw his sandal into its crater, whereupon the colossus was calmed and made incapable of any further mischief. The beautiful valley, released from slavery to the whims of a cruel tyrant, has ever since shown gratitude to heaven for its salvation by rendering every service to mankind that abundant fertility could compass. Leaving the fascinating realm of tradition for the more reliable ground of history, one finds that the present city of Arequipa was founded by Garcia Manuel de Carvajal, under Pizarro’s orders, in the year 1540, and that it was christened Villa Hermosa, “Beautiful City”—a name as appropriate to-day as when the lovely spot was chosen. Situated at an altitude of eight thousand feet above the level of the sea, this paradise of green gardens and sunny skies is an ideal place of residence for those who seek a healthful climate and the blessings of perpetual spring. [Illustration: AREQUIPA AND THE MISTI.]