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.