John Burroughs' Simple Life: Mind Your Own Business

1917

"Keep Cheerful and Mind Your Own Business," Is the Message of John Burroughs

John Burroughs, famous American naturalist and writer, and leading disciple of the simple life, is eighty years old. He has lived with nature since boyhood, and knows the birds, the squirrels and the butterflies, the woods, the fields and the mountain streams. He was the friend of Lincoln, of Emerson, of Holmes, of Whittier and of Walt Whitman. His recollections of these great friends are sufficient companions for John Burroughs in his woodland cabin. "I am very happy in my work, and I hope to write a book each year for many more years," he says. He is at his best, despite his age, and leads an active life in the open. His message to the world is: "Keep cheerful and mind your own business."

Mr. Burroughs taught school in his youth, became a bank examiner, and had a promising career before him in financial affairs, when he discarded ambition for wealth to lead the simple life. His first book was his "Notes on Walt Whitman," published in 1867. During the past half-century he has written constantly, and has contributed much to the nature library. He married Ursula North in 1857, and in the winter time he now makes his home with his daughter and grandchildren at West Park, N. Y.

Walt Whitman Remembered, Some Hurt Feelings

1907

WALT WHITMAN'S COMMERCIALISM.

Charles Godfrey Leland told the following story of Walt Whitman:

"When my book on the gypsies appeared, I, knowing that it would interest him, gave him a copy, in which I had written a short complimentary poem, and, mindful of the great and warm gratitude which he had declared regarding my brother Henry, I asked him if he would not write for me a few original verses, though it were only a couplet, in the copy of 'Leaves of Grass' which he had sent to my brother. His reply was a refusal, at which I should not have felt hurt, had it been gently worded or civilly-evasive, but his reply was to the effect that he never did anything of the kind, except for money. His exact words then were, 'Sometimes when a fellow says to me. "Walt, here's ten or five dollars — write me a poem for it," I do so.' And then, seeing a look of disappointment or astonishment in my face, he added: 'But I will give you my photograph and autograph,' which he did."