One great Northern “friend of the slave” tells us that the slaves at the South are degraded so to the level of brutes, that baptizing them and admitting them to Christian ordinances is about the same as though he should say to his dogs, “I baptize thee, Bose, in,” etc.  This, he tells us, he repeated many times here, and in England.[1] Nothing but love of truth and just hatred of “the sum of all villanies” could, of course, have made him venture so near the verge of unpardonable blasphemy as to speak thus.  Yet your feelings and behavior toward this babe are in direct conflict with his theory.  Pray whom am I to believe?

   [Footnote 1:  See “Sigma’s” communications to the Boston Transcript,
   August, 1857.]

Perhaps now I have hit upon a solution.  Some people, Walter Scott is an instance, bury their favorite dogs with all the honors of a decorated sepulture.  Rather than believe that your slaves are commonly regarded by you as your fellow-creatures, having rights which you love to consider, or, that you do not mercilessly dispose of them to promote your selfish interests, we, the Northern people, who have had the very best of teachers on the subject of slavery, learnedly theoretical, reasoning from the eternal principles of right, would incline to believe that your interest in the burial of this little slave-babe was merely that which your own child would feel on seeing her kitten carefully buried at the foot of the apple-tree.

One thing, however, suggests a difficulty in feeling our way to this conclusion.  I mention it because of the perfect candor which guides the sentiments and feelings of all Northern people in speaking of slavery and slave-holders.

The difficulty is this:  Who was “poor old Timmy”?  Some old slave in your father’s family, I apprehend.  You seem sad at finding that his grave is not in the best place.  “The water rises within three feet of the surface;”—­we infer, from the regret which you seem to feel at this, that you have some care and pity for your old slaves, which extends even to their graves.  But we had well nigh borrowed strength to our prejudices from this place of old Timmy’s grave, and were saying with ourselves, Thus the slave-holders bury their slaves where the water may overflow them; but you seem to apologize to your father for Timmy’s having such a poor place for his remains by saying, “His own” (Timmy’s) “family selected his burying-place, and probably did not think of this.”  Very kind in you, dear madam, to speak so.  “The friends of the slave” are greatly obliged to you for such consideration.  You say, “His own family selected his burying-place.”  Do slaves have such a liberty?  Can they go and come in their burying-grounds and choose places for the graves of their kindred?  This is being full as good to your servants, in this particular, as we are at the North to our domestics.  You thought poor old Timmy’s grave was not in a spot sufficiently