Married. Richard Austen ("Rab") Butler, 56, widower, Britain's Home Secretary and chairman of the Tory Party; and wealthy (textiles) Mollie Courtauld, 52, widow and a distant cousin by marriage of Butler's wealthy (same textiles) first wife, Sydney Courtauld Butler; both for the second time; in Ashwell, England. At the wedding were Rab Butler's four children, Mollie's six. Her eldest son Christopher, 25, gave the bride away.

Died. Admiral Frederick Joseph Home, 79, Vice Chief of Naval Operations in World War II; in San Diego. Good Sailor Home, a onetime naval attache in Tokyo, was not at all embarrassed by the World War I decoration of the Third Order of the Sacred Treasure awarded him by Japan, fought his erstwhile decorators relentlessly. On one occasion in 1943, he shook his fellow countrymen, who were beginning to see war's end as just a matter of time, by warning them just how much time it might take to defeat the Axis powers: "We are planning ... for a war that will last at least until 1949. And that is not pessimistic." The A-bomb's invention shrank his timetable.

Died. George Parmly Day, 83, longtime (1910-42) treasurer of Yale University, better known as one of the four boys immortalized by his late brother Clarence in the memoirs entitled Life with Father (later converted by Russel Grouse and Howard Lindsay into the long-run Broadway play); of uremic poisoning; in New Haven, Conn.

Died. Carl Rungius, 90, dedicated painter of American wildlife, onetime Prussian cavalry officer who came to the U.S. in 1894 to hunt moose in Maine, stayed on to live in the West and the Canadian Rockies, often hunted with Theodore Roosevelt; of a stroke suffered while working at his easel; in Manhattan.

Died. John Michael Casey, 97, who really fortified the profitable label, "banned in Boston"; of arteriosclerosis; in Boston. Before he got into the censorship business as chief of Boston's Licensing Division, Casey had been a bird imitator and bazoo tooter in oldtime vaudeville and burlesque. At 40, while a kettledrummer with the Boston Symphony Orchestra, he lost his right arm in a train wreck, was put to pasture by Boston's charitable pols--first as a messenger for the mayor, then by the footlights. Between 1904 and 1932, Censor Casey witnessed, by his count, 5,824 public performances, flatly banned only two. One of his pet hates: Eugene O'Neill ("That man never wrote on a decent theme in his life"). Shortly before he retired, Casey said bitterly: "Cultured Boston! Far from it--to the opposite extreme when it comes to theatricals . . . This city has an insatiable appetite for, and demands, vulgar plays. Frankly, I'm disgusted!"

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