dship the prosperity of which the fortune of war has
deprived thee."

Then drawing from his finger a gold ring set with a precious stone,
Boabdil presented it to the Count of Tendilla, who, he was informed, was
to be governor of the city, saying,--

"With this ring Granada has been governed. Take it and govern with it, and
God make you more fortunate than I."

He then proceeded to the village of Armilla, where Queen Isabella
remained. She received him with the utmost courtesy and graciousness, and
delivered to him his son, who had been held as a hostage for the
fulfilment of the capitulation. Boabdil pressed the child tenderly to his
bosom, and moved on until he had joined his family, from whom and their
attendants the shouts and strains of music of the victorious army drew
tears and moans.

At length the weeping train reached the summit of an eminence about two
leagues distant which commanded the last view of Granada. Here they paused
for a look of farewell at the beautiful and beloved city, whose towers and
minarets gleamed brightly before them in the sunshine. While they still
gazed a peal of artillery, faint with distance, told them that the city
was taken possession of and was lost to the Moorish kings forever. Boabdil
could no longer contain himself.

"Allah achbar! God is great!" he murmured, tears accompanying his words of
resignation.

His mother, a woman of intrepid soul, was indignant at this display of
weakness.

"You do well," she cried, "to weep like a woman for what you failed to
defend like a man."

Others strove to console the king, but his tears were not to be
restrained.

"Allah achbar!" he exclaimed again; "when did misfortunes ever equal
mine?"

The hill where this took place afterwards became known as Feg Allah
Achbar; but the point of view where Boabdil obtained the last prospect of
Granada is called by the Spaniards "_El ultimo suspiro del Moro_" or "The
last sigh of the Moor."

As Boabdil thus took his last look at beautiful Granada, it behooves us to
take a final backward glance at Arabian Spain, from whose history we have
drawn so much of interest and romance. In this hospitable realm
civilization dwelt when few traces of it existed elsewhere. Here luxury
reigned while barbarism prevailed widely in Europe. We are told that in
Cordova a man might walk ten miles by the light of the public lamps, while
centuries afterwards there was not a single public lamp in London streets.
Its