"The carriage goes smoothly along here," she said. Then, after a little pause, she asked, "Is David driving?" and the weeping negro cried out from a corner of the room-- "'Tain't po' Dave, Mistiss! De good Lord done tuck holt er de lines." And so, dreaming as a little child would dream, the old lady slipped from life into the beatitudes, if the smiles of the dead mean anything. THE END