name should not be changed. If you change it in
deference to our wishes and against good advice, it would lay an
obligation on us that we could ill endure. Already I was feeling
uneasy under the thought, and Mrs. Stowe actually said to me that
she should prefer greatly to write as contributor and would do just
as much work as if called editor. She settled down on consenting to
be corresponding editor; and Mrs. Davis and I will be assistant
editors. I will write for The Revolution and work for it just as
hard as I can, sending out a circular through Connecticut asking
contributions to it.

Later--Since reading Mrs. Stanton on the Richardson-McFarland case,
I feel disinclined to be associated with her in editorial work. I
want to say this very gently; but I have no time for
circumlocution....

[Autograph: Alice Cary]

The promised contributions did not materialize, and The Revolution
received no aid of any description. The struggle was bravely continued
throughout the first five months of 1870. The Cary sisters were devoted
friends of Miss Anthony and deeply interested in the paper, and some of
their sweetest poems had appeared in its columns. Their beautiful home
was just three blocks below The Revolution office, and she spent many
hours with them. These frequent calls, breakfasts and luncheons were
much more delightful to her than their Sunday evening receptions,
although at those were gathered the writers, artists, musicians,
reformers and politicians of New York, besides eminent persons who
happened to be in the city. It was a literary center which never has
been equalled since those lovely and cultured sisters passed away. In
her lecture on "Homes of Single Women," Miss Anthony thus describes one
of her visits:

[Autograph: Phoebe Cary]

I shall never forget the December Sunday morning when a note came
from Phoebe asking, "Will you come round and sit with Alice while I
go to church?" Of course I was only too glad to go; and it was
there in the cheery sick-room, as I sat on a cushion at the feet of
this lovely, large-souled, clear-brained woman, that she told me
how ever and anon in the years gone by, as she was writing her
stories for bread and shelter, her pen would run off into facts and
philosophies of woman's servitude that she knew would ruin her book
with the publishers, but which, for her own satisfaction, she had