An optimist has been described as a man who orders oysters at a restaurant and expects to find a pearl to pay the bill with. This of course is not optimism, but brazen brainlessness. Yet somehow the pearls come only to those who expect them.

Year ain't been the very best;—
Purty hard by trouble pressed;
But the rough way leads to rest,—
Here's hopin'!

Maybe craps way short; the rills
Couldn't turn the silent mills;
But the light's behind the hills,—
Here's hopin'!

Where we planted roses sweet
Thorns come up an' pricked the feet;
But this old world's hard to beat,—
Here's hopin'!

P'r'aps the buildin' that we planned
'Gainst the cyclone couldn't stand;
But, thank God we've got the land,—
Here's hopin'!

Maybe flowers we hoped to save
Have been scattered on a grave;
But the heart's still beatin' brave,—
Here's hopin'!

That we'll see the mornin' light—
That the very darkest night
Can't hide heaven from our sight,—
Here's hopin'!

Frank L. Stanton.

From "The Atlanta Constitution."