Tea

In Manhattan, one Tai Leong, 35, was sentenced to ten days in the workhouse. He was charged with disorderly conduct because he caused a crowd near Delancey St. to "gape and surround" him and to laugh uproariously at his grotesque capers. He was laughing, leaping, singing--drunk on tea, which he crammed into his mouth dry. Since tea was not on the contrabrand list, policemen could not confiscate it when he was jailed.

Bullet

In Berkeley, Calif., near the Le-Conte School, a .38-calibre revolver cartridge lay on the turf, unnoticed. The sun shone, grass sprouted and along came John Haggerty, school janitor, steering a mowing machine. Blam! Janitor Haggerty cried "YOW!" tottered from his mower bleeding from a bullet-grazed forehead.

Oldest Hen

In Greenwich, Conn., a newborn chicken scampered fluffily about 30 years ago, on the estate of James G. Wessels, prominent citizen. Last week this onetime chicken, now a potent Sarah among fowls, cackled loudly, clearly. In its nest Mr. Wessels discovered a newly laid egg. Skeptics asked: "Could a hen that was young in the 90's lay an egg in 1927?" Answered Mr. Wessels: "Here is the egg to prove it."

Biggest Turnip

Rivaling the incredibility of the Wessels-hen (see above) is the Hilturnip. This turnip, located on the farm of one T. G. Hill, near Corpus Christi, Tex., grew up in a cabbage patch. Responding to environment, it swelled larger, larger, larger. Finally it reached a diameter of 25 inches, a weight of 12 pounds. Civically proud, the Corpus Christi Chamber of Commerce placed the Hill turnip on exhibition.

Ditch

At Simpson, Ill., Henry Newton and Raymond West, farmers, were quarreling over a ditch one had dug which diverted water from the other's farmstead, one afternoon last week. The argument waxed. At the same instant, both drew guns and shot each other dead through the head.

Small Boys

In New York City last week, Irwin Blum, 10-year-old Bronx boy, became curious. Wishing to see how fire boxes work, he pulled in a false alarm. As the hose truck of Engine Co. No. 73 sped toward the non-existent fire, an automobile drove across its path. Swerving to avoid collision, the hose truck crashed into an "L" pillar. Fireman Henry Holster, father of four children, was killed.

In Richmond, Va., 3-year-old Billy Watkins was playing in the home of James M. Colgin, Chesterfield County (Va.) storekeeper. Billy took a revolver from a drawer, pointed it at Mr. Colgin, pulled the trigger. Storekeeper Colgin fell, mortally wounded, died on the following day.

At Chambersburg, Pa., one Tommy Ruby, 4, took a .22 calibre pistol from the kitchen shelf, went out to the garden where his mother knelt planting seeds, pointed the pistol at her neck, pulled the trigger. . . . She soon died. . . . While the coroner questioned him, Tommy snatched up a long knife, screamed, "I'll cut you up!" Concerning his mother's death, he boasted, "NOW I can get matches!"

At Selden, L. I. Chief Fire Ranger Clarence Dare insisted that a fire which raged last week over 6,000 acres of scrub oak and stunted pines, driving before it and suffocating, singeing, roasting a stampede of deer, foxes, rabbits, mice, had all started from a smudge ignited by one Ernest Chenel, 9, to smoke out a skunk.

In San Francisco, pedestrians on a hilly street were startled to hear a savage war whoop; to see five urchins leap from five parked automobiles and scamper up an alley; to observe the five automobiles --two on one side of the street, three on the other--start coasting down the hill. One nimble pedestrian leaped into a car coasting backwards, braked it, stopped two of the other cars with the bumper while other bystanders pushed from behind. The two cars facing downhill, bumping against the curb were delayed sufficiently for saviors to control them. Men bawling 'Thieves! Thieves! Stop there! Thieves!" chased after the urchins. None were caught.

Hair

In Fulton, Mo., last fortnight, a newsgatherer gazed upon a board containing 100 circlets of human hair in every conceivable color. The circlets were tied with ribbons. Under each was a woman's name, an address. Five insets adorned the board, four containing tin-types of handsome human females coifed and prinked as was the fashion 35 years ago. The fifth inset, placed in the midst of the collection, showed a young man of Apollonian mien--crisp, curly hair, square forehead, forceful jaw, roguish eye. That was the way one J. Roy Tucker, now a slightly bald, portly oil man of 55, looked in his college days. Mr. Tucker was not reticent with the newsgatherer.

"How'd I get those locks of hair?" he said. "Well, it is a long story but I can tell it in a few words. I bet a fellow-Westminster College student $100 that I could take 50 girls buggy-riding on 50 successive days without taking the same girl twice, and get a lock of hair from each. I not only won the bet, but found the quest for locks such a pleasant one that I did not stop until I had the hundred."

Mr. Tucker employed an English type of phaeton, two high-steppers that could trot a mile in less than 2.30 min., and a small Negro "tiger" (coach-boy) up behind. On rainy days he used a closed carriage. He kept his sister in reserve and had to fall back on her one evening to keep up his lock-raping continuity.

The newsgatherer interviewed a onetime passenger of Mr. Tucker's. Said she: "Roy was just grand."

Pluckings

Outside Philadelphia, Mary Gilmore, 7, and her brother James, 5, plucked flowers, tugged at a strong "root." Out from the soft soil came a woman's stiff finger. The children pulled harder and dragged forth the finger's hand and the forearm, a right one, to which the hand belonged. There was no body. Affrighted the children's parents summoned authorities, who smelled the medical laboratory solution used to pickle anatomical specimens and then decided that frolicsome medical students had "planted" the remnant to hoax Philadelphia police.

Five

Near Osorno, Chile, one Angelina Alvarado, 22, great with children, bore, one after another, female quintuplets, none of whom lived over 18 hours.

Pleaseant School

In Latrobe, Pa., Mrs. T.O. Horne, teacher at the Pleasant Unity Sunday School, was stirring about among her young pupils; administering gospel truth; telling of visions, miracles, etc. Suddenly she vanished. Pupils gasped and stared at one another in bewilderment. One little girl screamed. Those near teacher knew that there had been no miracle. A floor register had fallen through with Mrs. T. O. Horne aboard it. In the basement, they took the pipe apart, freed Teacher Horne.