The Christian states of the North, for fifty years torn by internal dissensions, were now united under the sceptre of Ferdinand. The kingdoms of Leon and Castile had been consolidated, and, the differences of the more insignificant principalities being adjusted, the attention of the Christians was again directed to the disunited and helpless members of the khalifate. From this time forth the war against the Moslem was destined to assume the character of a crusade, and hostilities to be seldom suspended until the last bulwark of Islam in the West had fallen and the Cross had been raised upon the towers of the Alhambra. The progress made by Ferdinand soon disclosed the weakness of his adversaries. Badajoz, Lamego, and Visera fell before his arms. The Emir of Saragossa was forced to abandon all the towns beyond the Douro. The banners of the Castilian army were seen from the walls of Alcala de Henares, in the dominions of Mamun, Emir of Toledo. To preserve his cities from destruction, the latter consented to pay an incredible ransom of money and jewels, which impoverished his treasury, and, with the lords of Saragossa and Badajoz, at once acknowledged the suzerainty of the Christian king. The vanguard of the latter soon appeared in the territory of Seville, and the proud Motadhid, aware of the futility of resistance, sued for peace. It was granted in consideration of an enormous tribute and the delivery of the body of St. Justa, a martyr whose sacrifice was alleged to date as far back as the Roman domination. The bishops of Leon and Astorga were sent at the head of an imposing embassy to receive the relics of the saint. Unfortunately, these could not be identified, and the pious brethren, unwilling to return empty handed, by means of a miraculous vision discovered and obtained a far more valuable prize,--the body of St. Isidore, of Seville. Motadhid affected great sorrow at being compelled to part with such a treasure. With a view to future profit in the trade of similar commodities, he reverentially threw over the bier a magnificent robe of embroidered silk, and, much to the delight of the prelates, who saw with undisguised astonishment the salutary effect produced on the mind of an infidel by the mouldering bones of a Father of the Church, parted from the escort at the gate of the city with many simulated expressions of sorrow and a flood of hypocritical tears. Covering his face with his mantle, his voice choked with sobs, this interesting example of royal piety exclaimed, to the profound edification of the weeping bystanders: “Farewell, Isidore! Farewell, most holy man! Thou knowest what a close intimacy had always existed between us!”