[
164]
Years ago — a full score, at least — the readers of some religious, and those of many rural, newspapers first noted the fitful appearance, in the poet's corner of their respective gazettes, of verses by
Alice Cary. Two or three years later, other such-like, and yet different-also irradiated, from time to time, the aforesaid corner, purporting to be from the pen of
Phebe Cary. Inquiry at length elicited the fact that the writers were young sisters, the daughters of a plain, substantial farmer, who lived on and cultivated his own goodly but not superabundant acres, a few miles out of
Cincinnati, Ohio.
He was a Universalist in faith, and they grew up the same,--writing oftener for the periodicals of their own denomination, though their effusions obtained wide currency through others, into which they were copied.
I do not know, but presume, that Alice had written extensively, and Phebe occasionally, for ten years, before either had asked or been proffered any other consideration therefor than the privilege of being read and heard.
This family of Carys claim kindred with
Sir Robert Cary, a stout English knight, who, in the reign of Henry V., vanquished, after a long and bloody struggle, a haughty chevalier of Arragon, who challenged any Englishman of gentle blood to a passage-at-arms, which took place in
Smithfield,
London, as is chronicled in “
Burke's heraldry.”
Henry authorized
