Out of print, out of mind, thought U.S. Postmaster General J. Edward Day of his first and last novel: Bartholf Street, written during World War II when Navy Lieut. Day was on convoy duty and published in 1947. But last week, well aware of Day's new eminence, his old publisher announced a reprinting of Bartholf Street. This was ironic, since Day had been forced to contribute $800 to get the first edition published. In the 13 years since. Day's royalties totaled 40---paid in postage stamps. A sample Bartholf Street scene: ''Marie walked in and closed the door behind her. She had on her coat with gaudy blue pajamas underneath. 'Won't you have a drink?' I asked. She sat on the bed. leaning back with both hands. 'Whatever you say,' she replied . . ."

"--For heaven's sake," preached Manhattan Minister Norman Vincent Peale, "let's get Christian positions up to a Christian level." So saying. Peale faulted San Francisco's Episcopal Bishop James A. Pike for a bit of negative thinking: opposition to racism on grounds that it will lose the U.S. the support of uncommitted nations. "I am fed up with hearing preachers say that we must practice non-discrimination because of its effect upon the so-called colored peoples of the world." said Peale. "If discrimination were right, we should support it no matter what the colored people think. But we know discrimination to be a diabolical, damnable thing." Concluded Peale: "Christians should oppose discrimination for only one reason--because it is wrong."

On a visit to London's Press Club. Britain's Queen Mother Elizabeth, 60, became the first woman ever to enter its hallowed taproom, graciously acknowledged the honor by picking up a billiard cue and hazarding a left-handed shot. "Rather fun," said Queen Mum. while being snapped in an already famous photograph. After she had departed the Fleet Street sanctuary, the club secretary commented, "She was very expert; you can tell that she's played before" a supposition subsequently confirmed by a press aide, who classed her a pretty fair player.

In a series of get-acquainted luncheons in his opulent Waldorf Towers apartment. U.S. Ambassador Adlai Stevenson had hosted every delegation with which the U.S. has diplomatic relations except for the Soviets, and that was only because his Russian counterpart. Valerian Zorin, had stood him up last month when Patrice Lumumba's death was announced. Last week Zorin finally kept the date, and the atmosphere was reportedly ''very cordial.''

New York's Democratic Mayor Robert Wagner read a news item that plainly indicated the people's choice: a city-wide sampling of registered Democratic voters showed that 88% would not support him should he run for re-election next November. Far from loosing thunderbolts of denunciation when newsmen asked for comment, Wagner dropped a yard-wide hint that he is ready to run for the exit if tapped for a job by the Kennedy Administration. "Being mayor." said Wagner, "is quite a drain on your health."

Wakened at midnight by the smell of smoke, Mary Clark Rockefeller found the stairwell of the century-old Albany Executive Mansion engulfed in flames, pounded on the door of Governor Nelson Rockefeller's adjoining bedroom, and together they crawled through the second-floor window onto a porch roof. Just as Rocky got set to leap for a clump of bushes 15 feet below, the fire department arrived, shot up a rescue ladder. After ascertaining that his wife and three servants were safe ("A miracle," beamed New York's First Lady), the Governor ducked back into his bedroom to retrieve six Picasso drawings, a Van Gogh sketch and a portrait of his father. But surveying his gutted first floor after the blaze had been extinguished half an hour later. Rockefeller found only the charred remains of a distinguished art collection, estimated the loss at $350,000. All told. 70 pictures and sculptures were damaged or destroyed, including a number of Rocky-owned works by Braque. Matisse, Klee and Picasso, and seven paintings by American Masters Inness. Sully and Stuart that had been left by his predecessor, W. Averell Harriman. The 40-room brick mansion itself was so ravaged that the state was considering abandonment.

As he continued his blooper-blemished barnstorm through Africa, Assistant Secretary of State for African Affairs G. Mennen Williams at long last heard a soothing theme amid the contrapuntal catcalls. At a Baptist mission 60 miles south of Leopoldville. a choir of Congolese schoolboys serenaded him with a painstaking rendition of Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen. Soapy joined the chorus.

In 1953 New York Socialite Robert David Lion Gardiner became the 16th, and seemingly the last, lord of the manor of Gardiner's Island. The seven-mile eastern Long Island isleta Gardiner fief since 1639 and perhaps the only English royal grant in the U.S. still owned by its original family-would fall to Yale University if there were no Gardiner heirs.

At the time Robert was a bachelor approaching 50. But in recent weeks Gardiner had been seen with Eunice Oakes, the striking, thirtyish widow of William Pitt Oakes (who died in 1958, 15 years after the still unsolved murder in Nassau of his father, Multimillionaire Miner Sir Harry Oakes). One columnist even overheard Bobbie gush: "She sends me." Last week the Long Island lord ended the society-page speculation, gave Eunice an olive-sized diamond (plucked from a grandmother's earring), announced that on March 21 she would be to the manor borne. Why the rush? Replied Gardiner: "I don't want Eunice to change her mind."

Chief speaker at next week's 53rd annual meeting of the Harvard Club of Boston: articulate Clarence B. Randall, '12, retired board chairman of Inland Steel Co. and Ike's special assistant for foreign economic policy. His topic: "A Harvard Man Leaves the Government."

Almost five years after she married Monaco's Prince Rainier III, Princess Grace, 32, told a Parade correspondent: "I know people think I lie around on a chaise longue eating grapes, but my job here is the hardest I've ever had-and the most complicated." Working a 16-hour day in their 200-room palace, she is now a plumper (by 10 lbs.) and darker blonde mother of two, wears glasses for nearsightedness, and denies rumors of a cinema comeback. "I don't like to use the word never," she says, "because who knows what will happen in life? But it is very unlikely that I will ever act again." One reason: the Prince is against the idea, and being "very much the European husband, his word is law." While mingling with affluent society folk in Manhattan, Economist John Kenneth Galbraith met the Duke of Windsor for the first time. "I understand," said the onetime King of England, "that you're to be the new American Ambassador to India, Mr. Galbraith." "That's right, sir," replied the longtime Harvard professor.

"Well," continued the duke, "I think you should like the post. My niece just got a very nice reception there."

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