tter, Williams?" asked the Judge, on his return home that
afternoon.

"My gran'ther is dead, Sir; and I don't know where to bury him." This
was the negro's quiet and serious answer.

"Dead?" ejaculates the Judge. "Why, I saw him only this morning, and had
a smile from him!"

"That was his last smile, Sir. You can see it on his face yet. He went
to heaven with that smile, we trust."

To heaven? a negro in heaven? If that is so, some of us, I suppose, will
no longer wish to go there. Or do you imagine that you will have need of
servants in paradise, and that that is what Christian niggers are for?
Or do you believe that in the celestial congregations there will also be
a place set aside for the colored brethren,--a glorified niggers' pew?
You scowl; you don't like a joke upon so serious a subject? Hypocrite!
do you see nothing but a joke here?

The Judge leaves everything and goes home with his coachman. Sure
enough! there is the same smile he saw in the morning, frozen on the
face of the corpse.

"Gently and late death came to him!" says Gingerford. "Would we could
all die as happy! There is no occasion to mourn, my good woman."

"Bless the Lord, I don't mourn!" replied the old negress. "But I'm so
brimful of thanks, I must cry for 't! He died a blessed ole Christian;
an' he's gone straight to glory, if there's anything in the promises. He
is free now, if he never was afore;--for, though they pretend there
a'n't no slaves in this 'ere State, an' the law freed us years ago,
seems to me there a'n't no r'al liberty for us, 'cept this!" She pointed
at the corpse, then threw up her eyes and hands with an expression of
devout and joyful gratitude. "He's gone where there a'n't no predijice
agin color, bless the Lord! He's gone where all them that's been washed
with the blood of Christ is all of one color in His sight!" Then turning
to the Judge,--"And you'll git your reward, Sir, be sure o' that!"

"My reward?" And Gingerford, touched with genuine emotion, shook his
head, sadly.

"Yes, Sir, your reward," repeated the old woman, tenderly arranging the
sheet over the still breast, and still, folded hands of the corpse.
"For makin' his last days happy,--for makin' his last minutes happy, I
may say. That 'ere smile was for you, Sir. You was kinder to him 'n
folks in gin'ral. He wa'n't used to 't. An' he felt it. An' he's gone to
glory with the news on 't. An' it'll be sot down to your credit there,
in the Big Book."

W