If nothing else, Saturday's musical venture in the vicinity of Sanders Theatre proved conclusively that Secretary Hull's Good-Neighbor Policy should remain strictly international. Two days ago the Radcliffe Choir and the Pierian Sodality led respectively by G. Wallace Woodworth and Malcolm H. Holmes, invaded the hidden recesses of Brunswick, Maine, and when they again crawled into the open before an audience, they were accompanied by a bewildered Bowdoin College Glee Club and its frantically gesticulating conductor, Mr. Frederic Tillotson. I trust that the experiment will not be repeated.

Happily enough, the at best spotty program started off well, with Malcolm Holmes conducting the "Let Us Now Praise Famous Men" of Vaughan-Williams. The choruses were together and the orchestra was with them. The horns made one or two minor mistakes but if the rest of the evening had been foreseen, a minor victory would have immediately been registered. Immediately following this, G. Wallace Woodworth led the Radcliffe group through the oft-repeated Purcell "Nymphs and Shepherds," two choruses of Bela Bartok and the Schubert "Valses Nobles," the latter being one good reason why transcriptions should be made with discrimination. Radcliffe sang well, but has done better. When the Pierian followed this with an adequate performance of the Morley "Ayre in D Minor," approval was shown in most quarters.

At this crucial stage, however, our good neighbors from the Maine wilderness masterfully took charge of proceedings. Perhips if they had only sung off pitch, weakly, colorlessly, or with poor diction, the effect would not have been so bad. But when all these are coupled with a poorly selected group (consisted of nothing but Josquin des Pres, Hassler, Lotti, and Leisring) and an acrobatic figure on the conductor's stand, the limit has been surpassed.

Following a surprisingly capable performance of Purcell's "Andante in F Sharp Minor" and a more than welcome ten minute respite, the Brahms Requiem, minus one chorus, was heard. The music was written from 1867 to '72 in memory of his mother's death. Brahms disliked religious dogmatism the religious mysticism so common to Bach. The Requiem is expressive in a manner peculiar to Brahms, and all its beauty and emotional intensity was seen in a few scattered passages of the performance, such as the solos by Miss Marjorie Rice and Paul Tibbetts. But in general the effect was tiring. The orchestra's horn section, at times the flute section, the apparent weakness of the vocalists when the better than average soprano section was silent, were all too prominent. Besides, the endlessly changing stream of conductors, even during the Requiem, was overdone. I for one, came to see a concert. Let's keep three ring circuses out of Sanders Theatre.