Enraged at this act of sacrilege, the populace searched every nook and corner in the town; two or three old knights of Castelermo’s order, who resided in the neighbourhood, armed and mounted their followers and servants, who, in conjunction with those of the podesta, and a detachment of our light troops, scoured the whole country round: yet without success. Navarro was nowhere to be found: but we soon after learned that he had sought refuge behind the lines of his friends, the French; who still remained entrenched at Cassano, awaiting the slow advance of Massena. In the solitary mountain-chapel of San Bartolommeo, poor Castelermo was interred with military honours: the grenadiers of Sir Louis de Watteville, drawn up outside the edifice, fired three volleys over it, while the coffin was lowered down in front of the altar; where he now lies with his mantle, sword and spurs, like a knight "of old Lisle Adam’s days." He was one of the last cavaliers of the original order, which for two hundred and sixty-eight years had possessed the Isle of Malta. Since 1800, when France ceded the Rock to Britain, they have been gradually declining in power and disappearing; and, although at the petty courts of Italy a few aged men are sometimes seen with the eight-pointed cross of the order on their bosoms, the Knights of Rhodes and St. John of Jerusalem have, in effect, passed away: like Castelermo himself, their glory is now with the things that were. Unfortunately I was not present to witness the celebration of my friend’s obsequies. On the close of this day, which had commenced so inauspiciously, I had returned with the Light Infantry, and wearied by a long search among the woods and hills, was sitting dejectedly in my billet alone, when Pierce, the general’s orderly, arrived with a message, that I was wanted by his master. I took up my sabre, and followed him to the antique mansion where I had first seen Sir John Stuart, on my arrival at Scylla. The General was engaged in writing: the table was covered with despatches, returns, reports, and morning-states; a map of Italy and a pair of compasses lay close by. The rosy light of the setting sun streamed through the barred and latticed window on his stern Scottish features, his silver hairs and faded uniform; and the tarnished aigulette and oak-leaves, a cross of the Bath, a medal for Maida, and clasps for other services, all blackened by powder-smoke and the effects of the weather, gave him a very service-born and soldier-like aspect. "Pierce, hand Captain Dundas a chair, and wait outside."