,
MISS ANTHONY. ROBERT DALE OWEN.

Before 1828, Frances Wright had visited Mr. Owen's colony, and
assisted him in the editorial department of the _New Harmony Gazette_,
changed afterward to the _Free Enquirer_, published in New York. Such
a circle of remarkably intelligent and liberal-minded people, all
effective speakers and able writers, was not without influence in
moulding the sentiment of that young community. As a glimpse into the
domestic life of this remarkable family may be interesting to the
reader, we give a pleasing sketch from the pen of Mr. Owen's daughter.
No monument of the whitest parian marble could shed such honor on the
memory of a venerated father and mother as this tribute from an
affectionate, appreciative child:

ROBERT DALE OWEN AND MARY ROBINSON.

BY ROSAMOND DALE OWEN.

Some fifty years ago a large audience was gathered in one of the
public halls of New York listening to a lecture. In the sea of faces
upturned to him, the speaker read a cold response, the opinions he was
expounding being exceedingly unpopular, and rarely expressed in those
days. The theme was the equality of the sexes, the right of woman to
control person and property in the marriage relation, the right to
breathe, to think, to act as an untrammeled citizen, the co-equal of
man. His eyes searched tier after tier, seeking in vain for that
magnetism of sympathy which is as wine to a man who stands before his
people pleading with them that he may save them from their errors.

Suddenly his wandering gaze was arrested by a face, a child's face,
with short, clustering curls, but a strong soul steadied the deep
eyes, and on the rounded cheek paled and glowed the earnestness of a
woman's searching thought. His words grew clear and strong as he
looked into the upturned eyes, as he answered the listening face. The
speaker was Robert Dale Owen; the hearer, Mary Robinson.

That night when she reached her own room, Mary Robinson flung off
bonnet and shawl with a swift gesture, and, slipping into her
accustomed seat, gazed at the steady-glowing background of coals, with
the blue flames licking in and out like the evil tongues of
fire-scourged elves. A strong excitement held her in thrall; she did
not seem to see her elder sister's wondering looks; she did not seem
to hear the great clocks, far and near, chiming out eleven, and then
twelve, with that deep resonance which sounds in the silence of