The Collaborative International Dictionary of English v.0.48:

Carmelite \Car"mel*ite\, Carmelin \Car"mel*in\ a.
   Of or pertaining to the order of Carmelites.
   [1913 Webster]

The Collaborative International Dictionary of English v.0.48:

Carmelite \Car"mel*ite\, n.
   1. (Eccl. Hist.) A friar of a mendicant order (the Order of
      Our Lady of Mount Carmel) established on Mount Carmel, in
      Syria, in the twelfth century; a White Friar.
      [1913 Webster]

   2. A nun of the Order of Our lady of Mount Carmel.
      [1913 Webster]

WordNet (r) 3.0 (2006):

Carmelite
    adj 1: of or relating to the Carmelite friars; "Carmelite
           monasteries"
    n 1: a Roman Catholic friar wearing the white cloak of the
         Carmelite order; mendicant preachers [syn: Carmelite,
         White Friar]

The Devil's Dictionary (1881-1906):

CARMELITE, n.  A mendicant friar of the order of Mount Carmel.

    As Death was a-rising out one day,
    Across Mount Camel he took his way,
        Where he met a mendicant monk,
        Some three or four quarters drunk,
    With a holy leer and a pious grin,
    Ragged and fat and as saucy as sin,
        Who held out his hands and cried:
    "Give, give in Charity's name, I pray.
    Give in the name of the Church.  O give,
    Give that her holy sons may live!"
        And Death replied,
        Smiling long and wide:
        "I'll give, holy father, I'll give thee -- a ride."

        With a rattle and bang
        Of his bones, he sprang
    From his famous Pale Horse, with his spear;
        By the neck and the foot
        Seized the fellow, and put
    Him astride with his face to the rear.

    The Monarch laughed loud with a sound that fell
    Like clods on the coffin's sounding shell:
    "Ho, ho!  A beggar on horseback, they say,
        Will ride to the devil!" -- and _thump_
        Fell the flat of his dart on the rump
    Of the charger, which galloped away.

    Faster and faster and faster it flew,
    Till the rocks and the flocks and the trees that grew
    By the road were dim and blended and blue
        To the wild, wild eyes
        Of the rider -- in size
        Resembling a couple of blackberry pies.
    Death laughed again, as a tomb might laugh
        At a burial service spoiled,
        And the mourners' intentions foiled
        By the body erecting
        Its head and objecting
    To further proceedings in its behalf.

    Many a year and many a day
    Have passed since these events away.
    The monk has long been a dusty corse,
    And Death has never recovered his horse.
        For the friar got hold of its tail,
        And steered it within the pale
    Of the monastery gray,
    Where the beast was stabled and fed
    With barley and oil and bread
    Till fatter it grew than the fattest friar,
    And so in due course was appointed Prior.
                                                                  G.J.