My stay at Corfu was marked by many events. The first was a persecution emanating from Rome, clumsily enough conducted by two emissaries of the Inquisition--the papal consul, and the curate of the Romish Church. The first of these had the boldness to present himself before the Lord High Commissioner of her Britannic Majesty, with a despatch from Cardinal Lambruschini, demanding my expulsion, as having been guilty of enormous crimes. Being asked, however, by the consul, to state the nature of one, at least, of these pretended crimes, he could not find in his pocket-dictionary any term suitable for his purpose. I was subsequently assured that the secretary of the Lord High Commissioner reproved him for his assurance. The second of these worthies contented himself with speaking all manner of evil of me, whom he hardly knew by sight. It appears that both of them had a miserable pittance allowed them, for which they amused themselves in inventing and promulgating their abominable falsehoods. I know that the director-general of the police, Captain Lawrence, twice summoned before him one of these detractors, a Neapolitan tailor, and severely reprimanded him; and I also know that this tailor confessed he had been paid for his slanders. Several of the Maltese, who constitute the most vile and wretched part of the population of Corfu, had, at one time, taken it into their heads to follow me in the streets, with insulting and threatening words; and when some of my friends, who were more disgusted with it than I was myself, inquired as to the reason of their doing so, they replied that the curate had desired them. I might have called the curate to account for this, had I been vindictively disposed; but the case was otherwise. I must now say a few words upon a subject which perhaps may by some be deemed foreign to "my dealings with Rome;" but still it is in some degree connected with the principal facts of my history. And at any rate, it will be a page devoted to the memory of two dear friends, whose loss I have not yet ceased to lament,--to Attilio and Emilio Bandiera, universally honoured and deplored by all good men, for the sacrifice they made for their country.