features of Boabdil, and there was a momentary pause of embarrassment, which the Moor was the first to break.

"Fair queen," said he, with mournful and pathetic dignity, "thou canst read the heart that thy generous sympathy touches and subdues; this is my last, but not least glorious conquest. But I detain ye; let not my aspect cloud your triumph. Suffer me to say farewell." "Farewell, my brother," replied Ferdinand, "and may fair fortune go with you! Forget the past!" Boabdil smiled bitterly, saluted the royal pair with profound respect and silent reverence, and rode slowly on, leaving the army below, as he ascended the path that led to his new principality beyond the Alpuxarras. As the trees snatched the Moorish cavalcade from the view of the king, Ferdinand ordered the army to recommence its march, and trumpet and cymbal presently sent their music to the ear of the Moslem.

Boabdil spurred on at full speed, till his panting charger halted at the little village where his mother, his slaves, and his faithful wife, Armine (sent on before), awaited him. Joining these, he proceeded without delay upon his melancholy path. They ascended that eminence, which is the pass into the Alpuxarras. From its height the vale, the rivers, the spires, and the towers of Grenada broke gloriously upon the view of

the little band. They halted mechanically and abruptly; every eye was turned to the beloved scene. The proud shame of baffled warriors, the tender memories of home, of childhood, of fatherland, swelled every heart, and gushed from every eye.

Suddenly, the distant boom of artillery broke from the citadel, and rolled along the sunlighted valley and crystal river. A universal wail burst from the exiles; it smote, it overpowered the heart of the ill-starred king, in vain seeking to wrap himself in the Eastern pride or stoical philosophy. The tears gushed from his eyes, and he covered his face with his hands. The band wound slowly on through the solitary defiles; and that place where the king wept at the last view of his lost empire, is still called THE LAST SIGH OF THE MOOR,

KENTUCKY BELLE.

Summer of 'sixty-three, sir, and Conrad was

gone away

Gone to the country town, sir, to sell our first load of hay:

We lived in the log house yonder, poor as ever you've seen;

Röschen there was a baby, and I was only nineteen.

Conrad, he took the oxen, but he left Kentucky

Belle.

How much we thought of Kentuck, I couldn't begin to tell

Came from the Blue grass country; my father gave her to me

When I rode North with Conrad, away from the Tennessee.

Conrad lived in Ohio-a German he is, you know

The house stood in broad cornfields, stretching on, row after row.

The old folks make me welcome; they were as kind as kind could be;

But I kept longing, longing for the hills of the Tennessee.

Oh, for a sight of water, the shadowed slope of

a hill!

Clouds that hang on the summit, a wind that never is still!

But the level land went stretching away to meet the sky

Never a rise, from north to south, to rest the weary eye!

From east to west, no river to shine out under the moon,

Nothing to make a shadow in the yellow after

noon:

Only the breathless sunshine, as I looked out, all forlorn;

Only the "rustle, rustle," as I walked among the corn.

When I fell sick with pining, we didn't wait any more,

But moved away from the corn lands, out to this river shore

The Tuscarawas it's called, sir-off there's a hill, you see

And now I've grown to like it next best to the Tennessee.

I was at work that morning. Some one came riding like mad

Over the bridge and up the road-Farmer Routh's little lad.

Bareback he rode; he had no hat; he hardly stopped to say:

66

'Morgan's men are coming, Frau; they're galloping on this way.

"I'm sent to warn the neighbors. He isn't a mile behind;

He sweeps up all the horses-every horse that he can find.

Morgan, Morgan the raider, and Morgan's terrible men,

With bowie knives and pistols, are galloping up the glen!"

The lad rode down the valley, and I stood still at the door;

The baby laughed and prattled, playing with spools on the floor;

Kentuck was out in the pasture; Conrad, my

man, was gone.

Near, nearer, Morgan's men were galloping, galloping on!

Sudden I picked up baby, and ran to the pasture-bar.

"Kentuck!" I called,-" Kentucky!" She knew me ever so far!