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Hot-Foot Hannibal 203 head, "I doan see'er, but de mare sees 'er." "How do you know" I inquired. "Well, suh, dis yer is a gray hoss, en dis yer is a Friday; en a gray hoss kin alluz see a ha'nt w'at walks on Friday." "Who was Chloe?" said Mabel. "And why does Chloe's haunt walk?" asked my wife. "It's all in de tale, ma'm," Julius replied with a deep sigh. "It's all in de tale." "Tell us the tale," I said. "Perhaps, by the time you get through, the haunt will go away and the mare will cross." I was willing to humor the old man's fancy. He had not told us a story for some time; and the dark and solemn swamp around us; the amber-colored stream flowing silently and sluggishly at our feet, like the waters of Lethe; the heavy, aromatic scent of the bays, faintly suggestive of funeral wreaths,-