Young As You Feel. In Scranton, Pa., Florence E. Dolph, 100, celebrated her birthday, as she has been doing for the past 79 years, by taking a slide down the banister.

Foiled Again. In Casper, Wyo., L. D. Mudge bravely entered a police station to bail out a pal, got jugged as an escaped prisoner when a cop saw through his set of false whiskers.

Foul Weather. In Boonville, Mo., Mayor S. L. Jewett, who parked his shiny, new car at a ballgame, finally gave up after one foul ball hit,it where he first parked it, another hit it where he next moved it, a third hit it where he moved it again.

On the Spot. In St. Louis, Policemen John E. Rooney and John V. Cunniff fumed at their radio as it blared out orders to investigate an open manhole--at the moment their squad car was stuck in it.

The Skeptics. In Los Angeles, E. G. Reel was indignant at the stupidity of the thieves who broke into his office and unsuccessfully tried to jimmy his safe--in spite of a sign on it giving 1) the combination and 2) an assurance that there was no money inside.

Contradiction. In White Plains, N.Y., Furman F. Fordham led a choral group through Nobody Knows de Trouble I've Seen, was presently arrested backstage on a paternity charge.

Cut Out. In Cedar Falls, Iowa, the alert chamber of commerce that sends out letters of congratulation to new mothers got one rather huffy reply: "What is this . . .? All I had was an appendectomy."

Alarum. In Brooklyn, three police cars rushed through the streets on a tip that a woman was "yelling for help," found a perspiring man changing an auto tire--with his voluble wife trumpeting advice.

Pioneers. In Long Beach, Calif., Johnny Kunakoff was persuaded to beach his seagoing jeep and surrender to two motorcycle cops, who made possibly the first arrest for drunken amphibious driving.

Fishermen's Luck. In Auburn, Me., three hooky-playing schoolboys headed for a good fishing stream, thumbed rides, got a lift--but not to the stream--from Galen I. Veayo, superintendent of schools.

Vindication. In Long Branch, N.J., Maurice Podell, who as a little boy used to fiddle with his food instead of eating it as he should, attained fame of a sort as a sculptor in rye bread.

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