"Haven't you anything at home to describe."

"No."

"Any pets?"

"Why I have a homely, ordinary dog, but he knows a lot."

And so I was roused to try "Our Rab and His Friends," which was
kindly mailed by Miss Phelps to Mr. Ford, the editor, with a wish that
he accept the little story, which he did, sending a welcome check and
asking for more contributions. I kept a place there for several years.

In Miss Phelps's case, one must believe in heredity and partly in
Huxley's statement that "we are automata propelled by our ancestors."
Her grandfather, Moses Stuart, was Professor of Sacred Literature at
Andover, a teacher of Greek and Latin, and a believer in that stern
school of theology and teleology. It was owing perhaps to a
combination of severity in climatic and in intellectual environment
that New England developed an austere type of scholars and
theologians. Their mental vision was focused on things remote in time
and supernatural in quality, so much so that they often overlooked the
simple and natural expression of their obligation to things nearby. It
sometimes happened that their tender and amiable characteristics were
better known to learned colleagues with whom they were in intellectual
sympathy, than to their own wives and children. Sometimes their finer
and more lovable qualities were first brought to the attention of
their families when some distinguished professor or divine feelingly
pronounced a funeral eulogy.