Monday, Aug. 15, 1960

As Jonathan Swift told it, Gulliver once knew a man who had spent eight years on "a project for extracting sunbeams out of cucumbers, which were to be put into vials hermetically sealed, and let out to warm the air in raw inclement summers." In these summer weeks, TIME'S editors deal with the inclemencies in Cuba, the Congo, Moscow and elsewhere, but happily spend part of every week extracting some summer reading to temper the raw air. Some examples in this issue:

One of the oldest and oddest Christian practices may be beginning a revival in the U.S. Even some Episcopalians are practicing glossolalia; see RELIGION, Speaking in Tongues.

"Please, Mother," one of her sons once begged, "if someone offers you Mount McKinley as a gift, don't try to move it"; see ART, Collector's Passion.

For three days the crowd down below watched the two men who seemed as small as flyspecks on a steep, 1,000-ft. wall of crumbling granite. It was an attempt to conquer one of the last great unsealed climbs in the U.S.; see SPORT, Mounting the Diamond.

They cost only a nickel or a dime, but for a while they transferred the nation's publishing capital to the small town of Girard, Kans. and made a capitalist-by-mistake of a Philadelphia bookbinder's son; see PRESS, Little Blue Books.

In Florida, winged emigres from Africa trailed tourists' cars through the Everglades, looking for a meal; see SCIENCE, Long Way from Home.

Is it true that Kennedy had to have Lyndon Johnson on the ticket with him because he can't get into Washington without an adult? Or that Nixon picked Lodge because conservative Republicans approve of anyone getting out of the United Nations? There's a man who says so; see SHOW BUSINESS, The Third Campaign.

At fast-growing U.C.L.A., where dormitories are going coed, the burning issue was "maximum security"; see EDUCATION, Boys & Girls Together.

Some people are rich but they think they are poor, and their condition is incurable; see MEDICINE, Imaginary Poverty.

On London's Savile Row, debate raged on whether a man's trousers should be his brassiere or his hinge; see FOREIGN NEWS, Fit for Kings.

In the growing harpsichord set, the test of a man's technique is whether he has his Schnellen properly under control; see Music, The Plectra Pluckers.

It's a world of lobster thermidor at 600 m.p.h., electronic brain radar, moving sidewalks and hotels for parakeets; see BUSINESS, Airport Cities: Gateways to the Jet Age.

"Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife?" the vicar asks. "No," Humphrey replies, "to be quite frank, I won't"; see BOOKS, A Devil Called Douglas.

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