s; and the light of his faith
broke like a new day upon western Europe. John Bosco, the benefactor
of the poor and the friendless of Italian cities, was another
optimist, another prophet who, perceiving a Divine Idea while it was
yet afar, proclaimed it to his countrymen. Although they laughed at
his vision and called him a madman, yet he worked on patiently, and
with the labor of his hands he maintained a home for little street
waifs. In the fervor of enthusiasm he predicted the wonderful movement
which should result from his work. Even in the days before he had
money or patronage, he drew glowing pictures of the splendid system of
schools and hospitals which should spread from one end of Italy to
the other, and he lived to see the organization of the San Salvador
Society, which was the embodiment of his prophetic optimism. When Dr.
Seguin declared his opinion that the feeble-minded could be taught,
again people laughed, and in their complacent wisdom said he was no
better than an idiot himself. But the noble optimist persevered, and
by and by the reluctant pessimists saw that he whom they ridiculed had
become one of the world's philanthropists. Thus the optimist believes,
attempts, achieves. He stands always in the sunlight. Some day the
wonderful, the inexpressible, arrives and shines upon him, and he is
there to welcome it. His soul meets his own and beats a glad march to
every new discovery, every fresh victory over difficulties, every
addition to human knowledge and happiness.

We have found that our great philosophers and our great men of action
are optimists. So, too, our most potent men of letters have been
optimists in their books and in their lives. No pessimist ever won an
audience commensurately wide with his genius, and many optimistic
writers have been read and admired out of all measure to their
talents, simply because they wrote of the sunlit side of life.
Dickens, Lamb, Goldsmith, Irving, all the well-beloved and gentle
humorists, were optimists. Swift, the pessimist, has never had as many
readers as his towering genius should command, and indeed, when he
comes down into our century and meets Thackeray, that generous
optimist can hardly do him justice. In spite of the latter-day
notoriety of the "Rubaiyat" of Omar Khayyam, we may set it down as a
rule that he who would be heard must be a believer, must have a
fundamental optimism in his philosophy. He may bluster and disagree
and lament as Carlyle and