Then came the close. Our bands first played the Brazilian national hymn. What a job that is will be told later. A great outburst of cheers followed after every man had ceased to stand at attention. The Brazilians were beside themselves with joy. Then came "God Save the King!" Every one could sing that, and while standing at attention a mighty chorus of song rolled out. More frantic cheering! Then came "The Star Spangled Banner." Profound silence was observed to the last note. When the salute was finished a cyclone roar followed. Men jumped on chairs and yelled and yelled. Hats went into the air. The Brazilians and English could not be contained. A score of men were on tables, each trying to take command of the occasion, each calling for three cheers for this person and that, for this country and that. None heard the others, but it was a grand acclaim of good fellowship and intense patriotism. One little Brazilian called for three cheers for President Roosevelt. The Sun man heard him because he was only two feet away. The cheers rolled out and the Brazilian thought he had taken the place by storm, and was as happy as a child, but the cheers were simply a part of all that was going up and meant for everybody and everything in the way of international friendship. It was a night that stirred one. And so the visit wore on, and it was a pretty tired crowd of guests and hosts before the finish came. Probably the weariest men on the ships were the bandmasters who struggled through the bars of the Brazilian national hymn. No disrespect is meant, but those Americans who are clamoring for a new national hymn ought to hear what the Brazilians have to put up with and then rest themselves content for all time with what we have. In the first place the Brazilian hymn is so long that when you are playing it as a Brazilian warship passes the Brazilian gets out of hearing and almost out of sight before you finish. After a few struggles with the music the orders were given on some ships to shorten up if the other ship was out of hearing and save the wind of the players. Then too it is queer music. It goes hippety hop--it seems a combination of waltz and march, of anthem and jig. It may be music, but the writer of this is frank to say that the Japanese national hymn, with its weird swoops and dives, curls and twists, seems like a gliding Strauss waltz compared with the Brazilian hymn. One of the bandmasters on the fleet complained that his men could not play it properly. "Musish no-a good," he said. "No Italian musish players. All come from Kalamazoo, bah!"