When Prince Napoleon, some years since, went round Great Britain and Ireland in the Imperial yacht, "La Reine Hortense," he was detained at Galway by the weather becoming extremely boisterous. Having landed and arranged to remain for a few days at the railway hotel, he was waited on by the "Great Western," who then happened to be the High Sheriff, and who, accompanied by some of the principal gentry, welcomed the Prince, and expressed an anxiety to give him a cordial reception and to render his sojourn agreeable. The sheriff addressed him in French, but was immediately requested to speak English, with which language the Prince stated that he was perfectly acquainted. In a short time after, I was dining at Brophy's, and the Galway functionary commenced a narration of the interview, but was immediately interrupted by Pat, who told him that we knew all about the affair already. "How can you know anything about it?" said the sheriff; "there was nothing published beyond the fact of our having called to pay our respects." "Oh!" replied Pat, "one of your companions was here very soon after, and gave me the particulars fully, and I mentioned them to a great many of my friends. He said that you told those who were going with you that you would address Napoleon in French, and when you and the others were admitted, you began to speak, but were immediately stopped by the Prince, who said, 'Mr. Sheriff, you will greatly oblige me by speaking English, for I assure you and the other Galway gentlemen that I do not understand the _Irish_ language.'" The laughter excited by Brophy's imaginative statement that the sheriff's French had been mistaken for Irish was renewed and increased by the earnest declaration of the latter that the Prince had not uttered a word about the Irish language, nor imputed any imperfection to his French. By his energetic denials of the fiction he rendered it extremely amusing. Along with great hospitality, Brophy afforded his guests frequent and varied amusements. He had a considerable number of costumes, which enabled him to impart a grotesque and motley appearance to the occupants of his dinner-table, or to produce a _tableau vivant_ in his drawing-room. There was a young barrister whose stature exceeded six feet, and he was generally wigged, robed, and placed on an elevated seat, to be styled "The Lord High Chancellor." I was usually equipped to personate a Lord Mayor; but whenever his favorite tableau of the death of Nelson was produced, I was in the garb of a sailor, and had to catch the falling hero as soon as one who sang, with a splendid voice and great musical taste, the recitative and air descriptive of the casualty, came to the lines announcing-- "At length the fatal wound, Which spread dismay around, The hero's breast received."