The British press insisted darkly that he had been "smuggled" out of the country to keep him from recanting his oft-professed love for Communism. One thing was sure: Actor-Singer Paul Robeson, 65, had disappeared into East Germany for what was called "a medical examination and a stay in a rest home." Mysteriously ill for the past two years, he has been protected from the press by his permanently left-leaning wife Eslanda, who even fended off a persistent reporter who flew with them to Germany by threatening him with judo. Finally, from East Germany came a statement attributed to Robeson calling talk of recantation "completely absurd. The fact is that I have gratefully accepted the heartfelt invitation of the German Peace Council to visit." The phrasing sounded suspiciously Eslandic.

Tut-tutting over the sneaking admiration Britons seem to feel for criminals these days, Britain's sobersided Justice of the Peace & Local Government Review set about de-mything the most admired sneaks of them all, Robin Hood and his merry men. "Friar Tuck is certainly no example of how a High Churchman should behave," sniffed the Review. Maid Marian was "certainly no 'Maid.' " As for Robin, he was simply "an outlaw who had deserted his lawful wife for fun and games in the greenwood with Marian."

After the multitiered extravaganza presented to him in Houston on the eve of his 55th birthday, Vice President Lyndon Johnson figured he had had his cake (and eaten it too). So when he showed up next morning for the weekly White House breakfast with Democratic legislative leaders, he was unbraced for anything festive. Then President Kennedy had a surprise cake brought in, and the Texas birthday boy was downright breathless. It took him four mighty puffs to dispatch the cake's five candles. Tch-tched Florida Senator George Smathers: "Shameful for an ex-Senator."

For the first few weeks of their month-long vacation near the Spanish seaside resort of San Sebastian, Belgium's royal couple carried on like any vacationers. Then Queen Fabiola, 35, suddenly disappeared from view. Callers were politely turned away. King Baudouin showed up stag at parties. Last week the tidings leaked out. The Queen is expecting her first child. And with a history of two miscarriages, her physicians were taking no chances, ordered her to refrain from all activities and spend most of her time in bed.

"Obscene," ruled the Lord Chamberlain, curator of British sensibilities, and 30 phrases were expunged from Henry Miller's written-in-three-days play Just Wild About Harry (TIME, July 12) at the Edinburgh Festival. From California, Miller looked on the bright side: "It just arouses more curiosity about the play." Maybe, but it seems that the dirt was the only thing holding Harry together; after two expurgated performances, it closed.

Pennywise, back in 1790, Benjamin Franklin bequeathed the cities of Boston and Philadelphia -L-1,000 sterling to be used for loans to "young married artificers under the age of 25 years." Trouble is, there's a definite shortage of young artificers. Boston last year finally decided to lend the money to medical students; Philadelphia settled on upping the requirement age to 35. Still, at accounting time last week, it seemed that Poor Richard's advice that "he that goes a borrowing goes a sorrowing" was being followed. Only $288,720 of Boston's $1,700,000 was currently on loan, while Philadelphia's meager capital of $330,835 had only $66,498 out.

The usual mighty scowl plastered across his face, World Heavyweight Champion Sonny Listen, 29, arrived in Norway on a barnstorming jaunt through Scandinavia, but the 25,000 fans who paid their way in to watch him spar made Listen sunny. Even the news that his proposed fight this week with showy but second-rate German Heavyweight Uli Ritter was off could not dampen his spirits. He hied himself to a Swedish bastu (steam bath) and had himself steamed and scourged with branches until he was his jovially ferocious self again.

Ill lay: Former West German President Theodor Heuss, 79, in Stuttgart's Katharinenhospital, in serious condition after the amputation of his left leg (above the knee) because of gangrene due to a blood clot; California's Democratic Senator Clair Engle, 51, in Washington's Doctor's Hospital after surgery for the removal of "a small amount of brain tissue" which was thought to be the cause of muscle spasms in his right leg and arm.

"A grave shortage of grouse," groused Prime Minister Harold Macmillan, 64, after bagging a paltry 28 on the first day of his shoot on the moors of Yorkshire. A jinx? Unlikely, even though the P.M. had changed his hunting suit for the first time in 36 years. The old coat-and-knickerbockers, complete with matching cap and four-button spats, had given out. But even the wiliest grouse could not have detected the change. The new coat-and-knickerbockers, complete with matching cap and four-button spats, were nearly identical to the rig he bought in 1927. "I believe that it will certainly last my lifetime," said Mac conservatively.

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