and the substance with which he inundated his scalp was not vigor, but the black varnish with which Mrs. Mix decorated her shoes.  However, Mix didn’t perceive the mistake, but darted down stairs, put on his hat and walked off to the courtroom.  It was a very cold morning, and by the time Mix reached his destination the varnish was as stiff as a stone.  He felt a little uncomfortable about the head, and he endeavored to remove his hat to discover the cause of the difficulty, but to his dismay it was immovable.  It was glued fast to the skin, and his efforts to take it off gave him frightful pain.

Just then he heard his name called by the crier, and he had to go into court to answer.  He was wild with apprehension of coming trouble; but he took his seat in the jury-box and determined to explain the situation to the court at the earliest possible moment.  As he sat there with a guilty feeling in his soul it seemed to him that his hat kept getting bigger and bigger, until it appeared to him to be as large as a shot-tower.  Then he was conscious that the lawyers were staring at him.  Then the clerk looked hard at him and screamed, “Hats off in court!” and Mix grew crimson.  “Hats off!” yelled the clerk again, and Mix was about to reply when the judge came in, and as his eye rested on Mix he said,

“Persons in the court-room must remove their hats.”

“May it please Your Honor, I kept my hat on because—­”

“Well, sir, you must take it off now.”

“But I say I keep it on because I——­”

“We don’t want any arguments upon the subject, sir.  Take your hat off instantly!” said the judge.

“But you don’t let me—­”

“Remove that hat this moment, sir!  Are you going to bandy words with me, sir?  Uncover your head at once!”

“Judge, if you will only give me a chance to—­”

“This is intolerable!  Do you mean to insult the court, sir?  Do you mean to profane this sacred temple of justice with untimely levity?  Take your hat off, sir, or I will fine you for contempt.  Do you hear me?”

“Well, it’s very hard that I can’t say a word by way of ex—­”

“This is too much,” said the judge, warmly—­“this is just a little too much.  Perhaps you’d like to come up on the bench here and run the court and sentence a few convicts?  Mr. Clerk, fine that man fifty dollars.  Now, sir, remove your hat.”

“Judge, this is rough on me.  I——­”

“Won’t do it yet?” said the judge, furiously.  “Why, you impudent scoundrel, I’ve a notion to—­Mr. Clerk, fine him one hundred dollars more, and, Mr. Jones, you go and take that hat off by force.”

Then the tipstaff approached Mix, who was by this time half crazy with wrath, and hit the hat with his stick.  It did not move.  Then he struck it again and caved in the crown, but it still remained on Mix’s head.  Then he picked up a volume of Brown On Evidence, and mashed the crown in flat.  Then Mix sprang at him; and shaking his fist under the nose of Jones, he shrieked,