Kitchy. In Frankfort, Ky., a divorce was awarded to Charles R. Barnett, who charged that his wife had refused to kiss him because his mustache tickled.

Times Are Tough. In Chattanooga, Tenn., a week after Farmer Lloyd Back asked the Free Press to announce he was looking for a wife he got 300 offers from 19 States.

The House of Husher. In Manhattan, Burglar Pat Moriarty, in court charged with carrying burglars' tools, refused to plead guilty as a fourth offender unless the court clerk whispered when he recited Moriarty's criminal record. The judge agreed to the arrangement, in a whisper. The clerk questioned Moriarty, in whispers, conveyed each answer to the judge, in a whisper, and finally the judge leaned across the bench and whispered, "I sentence you to 15 years to life imprisonment." Whispered Moriarty, "Thanks."

Champ Champers. In Miami, Dr. Ralph Boos, delegate to the Florida East Coast Dental Society convention, announced his 1942-43 finding: the average man bites more than twice as hard as the average woman.

Zone of Quiet. In Cincinnati, the city council got a citizen's plea for strict enforcement of the anti-profanity ordinance, referred the matter to City Manager Clarence O. Sherrill, who investigated, discovered that as far as the ordinance was concerned swearing was permissible everywhere in the city except city hall.

Tableau. In Hillsdale, Ill., harried Farmer Arthur Ferkel stood with the muzzle of a gun under his neck, his toe on the trigger, threatened to press while a sheriff and his deputy tried to argue him out of it. He held the pose for seven hours before they won the argument.

Public Servant. In Red Hook, N.Y., Highway Supervisor Oliver E. Rider decided not to collect $1,225 owing him for road improvement, explained to the town board in a letter: "In view of the fine spirit of economy you have shown to the taxpayers of our town by doubling your own salaries and decreasing mine, I feel sorry for the taxpayers, and have arranged to make a present of this bill to the town."

Horseshoe-Nail Gayle. In Newington, Conn., six-year-old Gayle Grant got out of bed for a drink of water, turned on a bathroom faucet, couldn't turn it off, waded to the telephone, wept into it incoherently, alarmed the operator, who turned in a fire alarm. The siren sounded a raid alert instead, just as a factory whistle blew. The countryside was aroused; the state prison gathered itself for an emergency; air wardens by the hundreds scurried to their posts.

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