This story was told to me by my grandfather when I was a little girl.
It took place when my grandfather was about ten years old. He and his older brother Guy were on their way back home in their horse-drawn wagon. As it became dusk, they saw up ahead a black carriage, drawn by two black horses. The driver of the carriage also appeared to be dressed in black with a tall hat. Curious as to who could be in the carriage, my grandfather and his brother sped up their wagon in an attempt to catch up with the driver. No matter how fast Guy was able to make the horses gallop, they were unable to catch up to the carriage, even though the carriage did not seem to pick up speed. They suddenly saw the carriage make a sharp turn down the dirt road that ran up to their house. The carriage pulled up almost to the front door of the house, and as my grandfather, and his brother turned their wagon down the same dirt road, they both saw the carriage, horses, and driver disappear in front of their eyes.
As they pulled up to the house, and ran inside, they were told by their grieving mother that their five year old sister Gladys, who had been sick for a long time, had just passed away. My grandfather was never one to tell tall tales, and the look on his face as he told me this story, was enough to convince me that what he told me was a true ghost story.