"Brigade—present arms!" answered Macleod, with a voice loud and clear as a trumpet; and our double line ’presented,’ the officers in front saluting with their swords, while our bands struck up the grand national air of the Bourbons, "Vive Henri Quatre." The French would perhaps have preferred the ’march’ of Napoleon; but I perceived a flush cross the face of the old Chevalier de Viontessancourt, when the first burst of the air fell upon his ear. The animosity on both sides had evaporated; our hearts were full, and the generous "hurrah" so hard to be restrained, rose to every man’s lips as the Frenchmen passed us. The moment the last file had cleared our ranks, we "shouldered arms;" and, followed by a wing of the Buffs—to prevent the revengeful Calabrians from assaulting them—the French continued their march to the tomb of Croton (which, as old Ovid tells us, was the origin of the city), where, by the articles of capitulation, they were to be deprived of all their military insignia. Macleod, with the remainder of his brigade, took possession of the citadel—marching in with the _Amphion’s_ marines in front; the right being the post of honour generally assigned to that maritime corps. Drumlugas hoisted the British flag, which was saluted by the heavy ordnance of the frigate, thundering over the still waters of the gulf while the echoes of the Strada Larga were yet ringing to the music of the French band. The Maltese knight, the Duca di Bagnara, and Cavaliere del Castagno, mounted on true Neapolitan steeds—small, strong, compact, large-headed, and bull-necked, perfect prototypes of the horses in ancient Roman bassi-relievi—brought up the rear with their battalions of the free corps; which immediately broke ranks, and dispersed over the fortress in search of plunder: we had the utmost difficulty in rescuing from their bayonets and daggers the numerous wounded soldiers whom De Bourmont had left behind. On reaching a pile of ruins called by tradition the Tomb of Croton, and situated near the banks of the Æsaris of the ancients, the French troops halted and piled arms; the officers dismounting, and the whole marching to a certain distance from the stands of muskets, they surrendered their cannon, colours, and drums, without scathe or damage, to the Ross-shire Buffs, commanded by Major Ferintosh. It was a humiliating act; but the honour of France was saved—the garrison having, in the fullest sense of the term, marched out with "the honours of war." The swords of the officers were restored to them, and, with the soldiers, they were permitted to retain their baggage; but the whole were immediately embarked on board the _Amphion_, where they were in safe enough keeping within "the wooden walls of old England." They were sent to Messina; but were soon after exchanged, and transmitted by cartel to France.