When le Chef greeted Princess Bopha Devi, 21, star of the visiting Royal Cambodian Ballet at the Paris Opera, with "You have a very beautiful costume, Mademoiselle," the daughter of Prince Norodom Sihanouk tittered prettily. Proud Papa, however, smiled, "My daughter has two children!" "Mademoiselle" was not le mot juste, but De Gaulle was right about the costume, which weighed 35 Ibs., mostly in gold and precious jewels, with a 6th century headdress valued at $200,000.

The London Times ran it as an obit that black July 4, 1914, when the Harvard junior varsity became the first American crew to win the Grand Challenge Cup at Henley. But the Empire survived, and so did the eight stout oarsmen, captained by a wiry Yankee who became Massachusetts Senator Leverett Sal ton stall, 72. And back to Henley they all went to celebrate their 50th anniversary with a row on the Thames and to donate a new Grand Challenge Cup to replace the leaky 125-year-old original. For Salty, it was enough just to be back, sipping champagne with strawberries and watching the English "Old Boys" and the ladies in their impossible hats. "It doesn't seem to have changed very much," he mused. "More motorboats and less punts, but still the same Henley."

A slimy 99DEG in Manhattan is strictly for lizards, but 2,500 hot-blooded types nevertheless turned out for the $100-a-seat premiere of Night of the Iguana at Philharmonic Hall. The acoustics were spotty as usual, the beef Puerto Vallarta even worse, and Mrs. Burton, in star-spangled blue, presided until Dickie showed up after curtains at Hamlet. But honors for the evening went to Ava Gardner, 41, in aqua satin, looking generations lovelier than the blowsy harridan she played onscreen. With the hordes outside hollering "We want Ava," she could hardly wait until after supper to flee to the peace of a Broadway jazz house.

In a local TV interview, Boston's Richard Cardinal Gushing, 68, let it be known that "eight years ago" (actually, it was 1954), he was operated on for the removal of a cancerous kidney, an area in which malignancy is fatal 63% of the time. "They gave me eight months to live," he said. "Somehow I survived. The Lord chooses the foolish to confound the wise."

On crisis mission or courtesy call, U.N. Secretary-General U Thant, 55, has flown to a dozen capitals in the past three years, but never to his home town, Rangoon. Between July 25 and 27, however, he plans a small detour en route to a visit to Moscow. He wants to visit his mother, now well past 80, and for the first time, the grave of his only son, Tin Maung (Timmy), who was killed two years ago at 21 in a Rangoon bus accident.

Beaming attendants swarmed all over the car that pulled into a Norwich, Conn., gas station. Battery checked? Oil? Windshield wiped? And wiped. And wiped. And wiped. Seems the young lady driver had on one of those new topless swimsuits, and while Yo-Yos and Hula-Hoops were fine for kids, this year's midsummer madness does absolutely nothing to weed the men from the boys. Policemen, politicians, churchmen all had their views, from the Tel Aviv cop who swore that "no nice Israeli girl would wear them" (25 suits had just hopped off local store racks) to Acapulco's mayor, who announced that if they turned up on his beach, "I would go to see them, naturally." The Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr. Michael Ramsey, 59, when asked if a

Christian should express disgust, replied, "A Christian should express disgust at anything indecent, but short of that, the less disapproval the better."

Just like any other middle-aged couple seeing the U.S.A. in a Chevrolet, Soviet Ambassador Anatoly Dobrynin, 44, and his wife Irina ate hot dogs, stayed at motels, and plotted their way on A.A.A. maps for a 1,366-mile Western drive-it-yourself tour in a rented Chevy. Well, maybe there were a few small differences, home being where the heart is, and all. "It's a beautiful country," said Dobrynin. "Very much like Russia." The Rockies reminded him of the Caucasus, Wyoming of the Steppes, and Yellowstone's panhandling bears "are from Siberia." When it came to civilization, of course, the U.S. was outclassed by the masses. Vodka martinis, said Mrs. Dobrynin, "are the perfect way to ruin good vodka."

Poor girl. She would like to pass as all grown up, but when she was born, on May 9, 1946, her father and his monocled friend were wisecracking at the top of the air waves, and news of her arrival splashed over the tabs. Now her age can be looked up, and reporters are starting to, because while Charlie McCarthy never got past eighth grade, Candice Bergen, Edgar's real-life daughter, grew up to be a living doll. Candice wants to earn enough modeling to study photography. "I am interested in the intellectual side of the camera," says she. But she may find the other end of the lens hard to leave. In the two months since she arrived in Manhattan from California, she has posed for the covers of Mademoiselle, Ladies' Home Journal and Glamour, earned $1,800 in May alone.

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