He did not make much beyond a living. He could have done so, perhaps,
but that was not his aim. Like another American naturalist, his
occupation could have been described as inspector of birds' nests and
hillside paths. Of course, that does not pay in dollars and cents.
When he had passed the three score and ten he changed his views on
industry. Perhaps I had something to do with that. He came to see that
the whole world could not live by hunting birds' nests. At one time in
his life, he had a grudge against all modern progress, especially where
it was associated with the burning of coal and the noise of traffic.
Perhaps that was as near to literary affectation as he ever came.
Wordsworth disliked railways too, and Thoreau said that he could see
more of the country by walking. Perhaps it was influences such as these
which bent John Burroughs for a time against industrial progress. But
only for a time. He came to see that it was fortunate for him that
others' tastes ran in other channels, just as it was fortunate for the
world that his taste ran in its own channel.
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