ttempt it.

Rising from his bed he quickly dressed himself, and then carefully took
the sheet, and folding it up in small compass put it under his arm.

Next, opening the window, he stepped out upon the sloping roof of the
ell part, and slid down to the end where he jumped off, the height not
being more than four feet from the ground. By some accident, a tub of
suds was standing under the eaves, and Ben, much to his disgust, jumped
into it.

"Whew!" exclaimed he, "I've jumped into that plaguy tub. What possessed
Hannah to put it in a fellow's way?"

At this moment the back door opened, and Hannah called out, in a shrill
voice, "Who's there?" Ben hastily hid himself, and thought it best not
to answer.

"I guess 'twas the cat," said Hannah, as she closed the door.

"A two-legged cat," thought Ben, to himself; "thunder, what sopping wet
feet I've got. Well, it can't be helped."

With the sheet still under his arm, Ben climbed a fence and running
across the fields reached the fork of the road. Here he concealed
himself under a hedge, and waited silently till the opportunity for
playing his practical joke arrived.

I regret to say that Mr. Mudge, with whom we have already had
considerable to do, was not a member of the temperance society.
Latterly, influenced perhaps by Mrs. Mudge's tongue, which made his home
far from a happy one, he had got into the habit of spending his
evenings at the tavern in the village, where he occasionally indulged
in potations that were not good for him. Generally, he kept within the
bounds of moderation, but occasionally he exceeded these, as he had done
on the present occasion.

Some fifteen minutes after Ben had taken his station, he saw, in the
moonlight, Mr. Mudge coming up the road, on his way home. Judging from
his zigzag course, he was not quite himself.

Ben waited till Mr. Mudge was close at hand, when all at once he started
from his place of concealment completely enveloped in the sheet with
which he was provided. He stood motionless before the astounded Mudge.

"Who are you?" exclaimed Mudge, his knees knocking together in terror,
clinging to an overhanging branch for support.

There was no answer.

"Who are you?" he again asked in affright.

"Sally Baker," returned Ben, in as sepulchral a voice as he could
command.

Sally Baker was an old pauper, who had recently died. The name occurred
to Ben on the spur of the moment. It was with some difficulty that he
succeeded