A naturalist of seventy-two of international reputation, who has done perhaps more creative work for the benefit of the human race in his field than any other living man, first realized that he was old at sixty-five, when digestion and elimination were very slightly reduced. Feeling the need of companionship he married at sixty-seven and found increased happiness and rejuvenation. Frail when young, he learned early to take better care of himself, restricting the amount of starchy foods and stressing the importance of the daily use of one ounce of agar-agar, one ounce of wheat bran, and half an ounce of liquid paraffin, which has become an absolute necessity. He writes three hours and works his head and body outdoors eight hours per day, covering rarely less than twelve miles. He is not only his own doctor but has often helped others by his experience. “I never worry about dying or think of the hereafter,” he says. “I have done good work for my fellow men, have never injured, over-reached, or cheated a human being in all my life and hope to live in the hearts of others so that my works and words may be of value to those who follow.” “I have no earthly or heavenly use for the clergy or church; am my own minister to my soul.” “I have no regrets whatever for anything I have ever done through life but have been ‘done for’ several times by others.” “Since about fifty I have taken more interest in public and community affairs and the future life of those who are to come after.” His great temptation is physical and mental overwork, which it requires constant care to curb. “I am now in the ‘Indian summer’ of mental clarity, finding myself able to do very much heavier and better work than at any other time in life, and only wish I could continue to carry on these experiments throughout the ages but am limiting myself to experiments that will not last more than ten or twenty years.” He receives several score letters a day and is editing a comprehensive work of eight volumes describing perhaps the most complicated creative work that has fallen to the hands of man to do.
One of America’s most eminent educators and leaders in science, and the creator of a great university, who has made his mark on the world as an advocate of peace, believing, however, that when we were once in the war we should push it with the utmost vigor, regrets only that he has, on one or two occasions, been misunderstood. He has traveled and lectured very extensively and is widely known by his books outside his own specialty. He ascribes his vigor to his early life on a farm and his outdoor life as a student of nature. Although he became a doctor of medicine in 1875 he has had occasion to feel the deepest appreciation of the services a few other members of that profession have rendered him. He says: “I have good friends among the clergy and often preach to them. They have no special pull on my future. I shall probably have to go out alone; I came in that way.” He writes:
When man shall come to Manhood’s destiny
When our slow-creeping race shall be full-grown
Deep in each human heart a chamber lone
Of holies, holiest shall builded be;
And each man for himself shall hold the key,
Each one shall kindle his own altar fires,
Each burn an offering of his own desires,
And each at last his own high-priest must be.