The vocalist was not in view; he was in a side wing, where he was accompanied by pianoforte music, and the shot was simulated by a blow on a drum. Brophy's Nelson was a perfect make-up. He wore an admiral's uniform, presenting an armless sleeve and various decorations, and the green shade over _the pearl_ on the sightless eye was not forgotten. I recollect one representation, when he fell more against my shoulder than across my arm and knee, but he immediately stood up and exclaimed, "D----n it, that won't do: I must die again." He was very fond of music, and played the violin frequently, but confined his performances to jigs, reels, and lively Irish tunes. I called one evening, when I was told that he was not at home, but as I was leaving, the servant followed me, and I was informed that he wished me to go down to the lower room of "the return," where he had "a couple of fiddlers." When I entered the apartment, he said that he was glad I came, as I had two legs, and could increase the number amongst them to half-a-dozen. Each of his companions was minus a leg, but their hands were in perfect order, and their music was extremely pleasing. The late Lord Rossmore was very intimate with Brophy, who was certainly not singular in admiring the many amiable and agreeable qualities invariably evinced by his noble friend. On one occasion Pat had engaged a first-rate player on the Irish pipes named Conolloy or Coneely, to enliven upwards of a dozen guests by his very delectable music. He was totally blind, and was placed on a chair in a corner of the parlour, where he played whilst we were dining, but he had been previously supplied with a plentiful repast. In the course of the evening, Brophy had a small table placed before the piper, and said that he had afforded us very great pleasure, but he should take a little rest, unyoke the pipes, and have a tumbler of punch, which was made by Brophy and put just at his hand. Almost immediately after this arrangement had been effected, Captain Toosey Williams urged Lord Rossmore to take the pipes and favor us with a tune or two. We all joined in the request to "his lordship," and he acceded to our wishes, and played several pieces of exquisitely sweet music, interspersed with most extraordinary imitations. In one, which was named "The Hare in the Corn," he produced sounds very much resembling the cry of harriers, and other tones like the notes of a hunting horn, terminating with two or three simulated squeaks, supposed to indicate the capture of the hare. He then proceeded to play the beautiful Scotch air of "Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon," to which we were listening with great delight, when the blind piper rose from his seat, and exclaimed with furious indignation--