This spring (1922) I was in Munich and the town was in great excitement over the approaching performance of Handel’s “Acis and Galatea” in dramatic form. Their conductor, Bruno Walter, said to me: “We are very proud of this stage performance, as it is the first since Handel’s time.” He was amazed and, as he told me, much chagrined when I informed him that I had given it in New York nearly thirty years ago. He gave it a beautiful performance. I had costumed my singers in classic Greek, but the Munich stage director had given the work an additional and rather piquant flavor by dressing the singers and dancers as in Handel’s time, when all performers, in no matter what age their plays were supposed to take place, wore the costumes and huge periwigs of their own period. In the summer of 1898 we were much excited by the dramatic accounts of Admiral Dewey’s victory in Manila Bay, and it seemed to me fitting to celebrate it by composing a “Te Deum” for soloists, chorus, and orchestra. In order to give my “Manila Te Deum” an appropriate character, I used several of the bugle-calls of the American army and navy as a _cantus firmus_, around which I wove the fugal developments of the voices of the chorus. In the last chorus, “O Lord, in thee have I trusted; let me never be confounded,” I used the “Star-Spangled Banner” in similar fashion. The work received its first performance at a concert of the Oratorio Society, December 3, 1898, and marked the introduction of my brother as regular conductor of the society. The following spring I was invited to conduct it at a Dewey celebration in Chicago, and on February 6, 1900, I directed it again at a special performance given in Carnegie Hall, the proceeds of which were to be used toward the building of an arch in honor of Admiral Dewey. This arch, however, was never built, and the several thousand dollars which resulted from our concert were finally donated by the Dewey Arch Committee to a philanthropic purpose. Our two guests of honor at this performance were Admiral Dewey, in a box on one side of the hall, and Theodore Roosevelt, at that time Governor of New York, in a box on the other side. Roosevelt was to make an appropriate address, and as the victor of Manila Bay was present and the entire occasion was one of jubilant admiration for our navy, we expected one of Roosevelt’s most flaming patriotic addresses on the glories of the American navy. But, alas, that evening his mind was completely occupied with things nearer home, and after a few very courteous remarks about my music, he launched forth into a terrific speech on the Street Cleaning Department of New York and the “duty of every citizen to vote at the primaries”!