At a United Nations reception, Partygiver Elsa Maxwell, 75, seemed the very soul of wit as a brace of old and dear friends--Pakistan's filly-following Delegate Aly Khan and Opera Outcast Maria Callas--squashed her in with socially correct shoulder blocks. Later, contemplating a frothy dinner she hosted (in another friend's apartment) for magisterial Austrian Conductor Herbert von Karajan, Elsa sighed publicly about her people-nabbing prowess: "Why, I wonder, am I blessed with such friends?" neglected to add an answer.

As Dominican Playboy Porfirio Rubirosa and his fifth wife, sometime Cine-minx Odile Rodin. 21, whooped it up at a Manhattan party, a thief invaded their Plaza Hotel suite, made off with jewelry and mink worth $32,600.

Bagged for a TV interview in Rio, New York's vacationing Governor-elect Nelson Rockefeller gamely plowed through a new, unsought role: stooge on an eggbeater spiel. Following some 20 minutes of political chitchat, sultry Interviewer Lidia Matos casually stuck an appliance in Rocky's grip, asked the key question: What is it? An egg beater, answered Rockefeller, brightly but warily. "You're right," warbled Saleswoman Matos, beaming into the camera. "It's the lightest, most efficient egg beater made in Brazil!"

Back from three months in Africa, a pair of intrepid Britons reported in with the news that the good name of Physician-Explorer David Livingstone is still to be found in the Dark Continent. While tracing Livingstone's paddle up the sluggish Zambezi (made a century ago), Voyagers Quentin Keynes, 34, nephew of the late Economist John Maynard Keynes, and

Tarquin Olivier, 22-year-old son of Cinemactor Sir Laurence, uncovered a graceful "D.L."--which the 19th century Kilroy had mentioned in his journal--carved in the trunk of a giant baobab tree. Doubtful at first, African scholars examined photographs of the find, agreed that the presumption was correct.

Sweden's shapely, wide-eyed Princess Birgitta, 21, by profession a gymnastics instructor at a Stockholm school, slipped out of training and into a strapless gown for a festive ball at the Royal Institute of Technology honoring seven new professors. After a hefty dinner (main course: grouse), Birgitta danced gaily with dons and students, was swept home by limousine at a moderate 1 a.m.

Doing S.R.O. business as usual, beanpole Piano Prodigy Van Cliburn, 24, wowed a packed throng in Kansas City, caused a scattering of academic shudders with his theories of musicianship ("If a performer has to sacrifice something, he should sacrifice the notes rather than the inspiration"), allowed that he had time to cultivate some home-grown corn: "Jazz is a kind of form, not difficult, that helps make the evaluation of classical music even higher. I play it myself to relax."

Poet Robert Frost, 84, newly anointed poetry consultant to the Library of Congress (TIME, Oct. 27), gathered in new kudos: the $5,000 Huntington Hartford Foundation Award for 1958. Among previous winners, for their contributions of "unusual significance to the arts": madcap Painter Salvador Dali (1957), flinty Literary Historian Van Wyck (The Flowering of New England) Brooks (1954).

For Queen Elizabeth II there were white flowers on the breakfast table and a jeweled memento, as without fanfare she and Prince Philip celebrated their eleventh wedding anniversary.

Spry enough to savor a Texas-style barbecue, although no longer up to striking the daily "blow for liberty"--as a concession to the years, he manfully abandoned bourbon and stogies six weeks ago --weatherbeaten Elder Statesman John Nance Garner, longtime (1903-32) Texas Congressman, two-term (1933-41) Vice President, spruced up in a new blue suit and his old battered Stetson for a misty-eyed celebration of his goth birthday. On hand for the doings: some 3,000 of the home folks in dusty Uvalde, a loyal guard of political cronies, including ex-President Harry Truman, House Speaker Sam Rayburn, Senator Lyndon Johnson. In fine gabby fettle, Visitor Truman hailed his host as "the greatest presiding officer the Senate ever had," much better, in fact, than "the squirrel head we have now. I'm talking about Mr. Nixon," he beamed. While newsmen eavesdropped, salty Cactus Jack compared notes with Truman ("I loved Roosevelt," murmured Garner, who broke with the boss over the third-term issue, "but I didn't want any Czars for president"), lamented: "They never gave me credit for holding the most important job I've ever had." "What's that?" asked Harry. "I was superintendent of schools in '93," answered Garner. "The youth of the country is more important than anything." Truman nodded sagely. Later as Truman and Rayburn led a ragged chorus of "Happy Birthday," Celebrator Garner sliced into a handsome cake, quavered a brief thank-you speech. "I love everybody." he concluded. "I've never had any hatred in my heart." Then, amid cheers, the old man shuffled off for his afternoon nap while the boys lined up for the backyard feast.

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