Visitors in the U. S. last week included:

The Mayor of Budapest. Dr. Eugene Sipocz was one of some 500 distinguished Hungarian "Kossuth Pilgrims" who landed at Manhattan, last week, led by Baron Sigmund de Perenyi, a onetime Hungarian Minister of Interior.

They came to dedicate and present to the city of New York a monument commemorating that titanic hero, Lajos (Louis) Kossuth (1802-94). For a day Manhattan rang with speeches fervently recalling how Kossuth proclaimed the independence of Hungary and became Dictator in 1848, only to see his fatherland reconquered within a twelve-month by Austro-Russian troops supporting the Austrian Boy-Emperor Franz Josef, then a stripling of 19. The fact that in 1851 Kossuth was brought to Manhattan on a U. S. man-of-war and honored as a supreme apostle of Liberty gave point to the dedication of last week.

Lord Dunsany, famed Irish romantic, 18th Baron Dunsany, poet, dramatist & man of letters, arrived to revisit the U. S. last week for the first time since 1919.

On his last visit he ubiquitously exhibited bad manners but last week he seemed the authentic dreamer of such works of genius as Tales of Wonder, A Night at an Inn and The Laughter of the Gods.

Mrs. Margaret Sanger (Mrs. J. Noah H. Slee), famed birth controller, declared last week, as she landed from the He de France that in Germany 98% of all prospective brides apply to government bureaus where they are told how to prevent conception.

Rosie ("Dolly Sisters") Dolly landed at Manhattan last week with her new Dominion husband, Mortimer Davis Jr., tobacco scion. Asked about the amazing luck of herself and twin-sister Jennie, at the baccarat tables in Cannes (TIME, March 12), Mrs. Davis ruefully admitted that luck has turned against Jennie, who has now lost the whole of a spectacular win totaling -L-40,000 ($195,000).

Trader Horn. Shameful was the exploitation last week, in Manhattan, of a white-haired and quavering old man of 75 whose name is Smith but who has become famous as Alfred Aloysius ("Trader") Horn. His arrival from Johannesburg, South Africa, via London, was made the occasion for a humorous publicity campaign by the Publishers of Trader Horn, a biography of Afric blood and thunder which the old man is said to have "dictated" (TIME, June 27). Throughout the week, Mr. Smith wandered like a puzzled Rip Van Winkle through a series of functions at which he, in contrast to most of the literati present, was creditably sober.

The enterprising South African novelist to whom Mr. Smith "dictated" Trader Horn is a Mrs. Ethelreda Lewis. How large a share of the best-selling royalties goes to her was guessed, last week, from the fact that Mr. Smith reached Manhattan traveling second class on the Olympic and put up at the modest Fifth Avenue Hotel.

There correspondents prodded him with questions about his early life until he cackled: "I have been a little bit a rogue elephant--as I have written, something of a rascal elephant."

So rascally was the wink which accompanied this statement that for minutes thereafter eager camera men cried: "Wink that eye again, Trader Horn! . . . Hold that wink, Trader! . . . You're not winking, Trader Horn."

Soon the Studebaker Corp. of America, "presented" Mr. Smith with a shiny new sedan. The "presentation" was chronicled and photographed as such by the Hearst press but the Studebaker Corp., when closely pressed, straightforwardly admitted that Mr. Smith was merely using the sedan "on loan."