Pigeons are pigeons, and their affinity for public statues is well-known to city dwellers. The Times of London took it upon itself to survey some of the city's monumental figures and their various states of inundation. William Ewart Gladstone: "The melancholy truth is that [he] does not stand close scrutiny these days. His bared head has been made indecently white by the birds of the Strand." Booze-hating Sir Wilfrid Lawson: "The pigeons have dealt most unkindly [with him]." Poet Robert Burns: "[His] slight defacement merely has the effect of giving him a tearful left eye." The situation in Parliament Square: "Disraeli, Peel and Derby, with the treetops above them, suffer more than Palmerston and Smuts in the open. Yet Lincoln, behind Disraeli (who is worst afflicted of all), seems avoided by the birds in spite of being near a tree."
Things have been quiet in Coon Rapids, Iowa, since the clamorous visit of Nikita Khrushchev in September. Matter of fact, Khrushchev's Iowa host, corn-rich Farmer Roswell Garst, allowed last week that he had not even got a bread-and-butter note from his Soviet acquaintance. But Garst was taking the apparent ingratitude with equanimity: "Probably won't hear from him again until he wants something."
After steaming into a Manhattan pier on the liner Queen Elizabeth, Uganda's formidable King George Rukidi III of Toro, 54, father of 27 children by quite a few wives, was heartily greeted by U.N. Undersecretary Ralph Bunche. Decked out in his black bowler, black jacket and white ekanzu, King George proved to be quite a wit and character. Supreme native ruler in Britain's East African protectorate, His Majesty agreed with newsmen that the morning was quite chilly, then jovially parted his robe to disclose a suit of long underwear. Dr. Bunche will plot George's U.S. itinerary, which will incorporate the King's wish to view a broad swath of the nation.