Evening star., 1902-08-09
CONSTANCY AND PATIENCE OF
MANY FINE CHARACTERS
No Experience Quite as Sad as the
Lonely Vigils Kept in
Waiting.

women VINO wait.
Mrs Peary has gone to bring her hus-
band back from what will be his last ex-
pedition to the frozen seas of the mysterf-
Gus north. He has given twelve years Of his
manhood to hazardous expeditions; to feed
curious and unsuitable scientists with facts
for new theories, and give geegraphers,
already gorged with lands, some frappe
isles to dream upon. And he has certainly
learned much that was never known be-
fore, and his new maps of the arctic re-
gions will be of benefit to the world. But
whether this time he succeeds in breaking
through the magic zone that repeis those
who seek the north pole, or is routed and
driven back, as all others have been, from
now onward his voyaging is done. Even
though the work is only half accomplished,
1t must rest. If the unknown ece-n lures
him and he dreams again of undiscovered
lands, he must forget his dreams and bde
at home. This is true. For his wife says
it. And she knows.
She has waited for her husband patiently.
And now, between the time of her arrival
and the hour when he finds her in Etah,
there may be many dreadful days Of sus-
pense and fear. But then, it will be over
forever. For she will wait for him no
more. She has put down her little, fur
shod foot on that question. And all the
promises of ships and men and the rewards
of fame will not change her mind. And the
baby. The wonderful little godchld of the
Graded in the ice while the brave wife
kept her husband company in the sunless
summer of the Arctic circle says so, too.
Her Constant Hope.
Mrs. Peary expects to see her hero within
a few hours after she arrives at Etah. as
he was, when she last heard from him, at
Cape Sabine, only twenty miles across
the bay. But if he is not at Cape Sabine,
and there is no definite news of him to be
obtained of the natives, the little woman
is confronted with another time of waiting
as terrible as her first winter of anxiety
and dread when she watched on that white
and desoiate shore for the boat that did
not come. Other wives and mothers know
what that vigil must have been. 1t would
have been bitterly dreary had she been
among friends and surrounded with COM
forts and good cheer But Mrs. Peary
knew then what it is to be desperately
poor, and to hear her baby cry in the black
cold with hunger while she waited for
the ship that was held in the ice far out
at sea.
When Kingsley wrote his wonderful
song of THE Three Fishers" ne seemed to
think there was no other thing as sad as
tears.
Men must work and women must weep"
he said But women know that, while
weeping may endure for night, JOY
cometh in the morning. And II ne had sl'i
wished to express a grief more anguishful
than tears he should have said: Women
must wait.
I am always glad for the woman who can
cry. Believe me, she is not to be frowned
down by her dry-eyed sisters. For the
pain that is washed away by salt tears does
not scar face or burn a heart or leave
blight upon a spirit. An April lady who
divides her days between smiles and tears
is sure to be capricious, but she will not be
unhappy or make others SO. There is no
bitterness in her nature, and her tempests
are over before they can do any harm. She
hos for and
l have seen her weep for joy. But who
would not wash her soul IN SO pure
stream and rise refreshed and strong be-
cause of it?
1 know the fashion of tears has gone out.
And I do not want you to believe that 1 am
trying to revive it, except as 1t was in
tended by the Divine Master Of Life, who
made for every hurt balm, for every
grief a remedy. But I think we make q
mistake when we keep back the fountains
of our eyes and send them down to stag
nate in our hearts. Still, there must be
time for weeping, and 1 hope that we all
have it scheduled and do not mix the
dates. And there Is a place for weeping
and that is far and solitary corner in the
mourner's own room.
A long time ago one who knew life wrote:
Her Strongest Weapons.
"a woman's strongest weapons are her
tears"
1 used to think that a great mistake. But
I am as sure now that it is true. Although,
like every other weapon, 1t depends upon
the quality of steel that 1t Is used upon.
For instance. a poor and selfish man will
see nothing in crying fit but red nose
and deal of unpleasant buster. But the
big, noble-hearted and splendid fellow will
feel his heart melt within his bosom at the
sight Of budding, sobbing woman-thing,
and seek to comfort her at such cost to
himself as may be. And SO, when 1t comes
to tears as a bit of feminine equipment for
r1,af frir iG well RI
they are to be used upon with a vast
amount of discretion.
But 1 believe In all the scale Of human
experiences there is no other thing as sad
as waiting And the hearts of all the wo-
men who know of brave little Mrs. Peary's
journey to meet her husband will be lifted
with prayers for their speedy meeting at
Etah. For the happiest of wives has expe-
renced something of the suspense and
dread of waiting for her loved ones, even
when the conditions were the simple ones
of ordinary life. And when they were per-
fectly sure that their husbands were not
likely to drift away from the familiar
good lands for which they had charts and
compaSSeS.
Familiar Types.
have known a woman to sit. pale, with
an underlined dread and with ears strained
with eagerness when her husband was a
half hour late for dinner And 1 have been
sure that she was very foolish, indeed and
have loved her for her foolishness. And I
knew another who early in her married
life began to sit through long and lonely
nights with her face, too sad for tears
pressed against the window. 1t would have
been better had he never come. And her
mind knew that Soon But when the brain
and the heart of a wife are at variance the
heart, aching thing that it Is, Is sure to
prevail. So she waited. And her pulses
leaped with hope at each shadow shape
that trembled under the distant lamps or
the faint, far sound of a football on the
other side of the street. And after a while
the eyes that he had praised grew dim and
the heart burned its love out, as the fire
dies on the hearth of deserted guest room
and after that it mattered not whether he
came or stayed.
Women seem to be the specially appointed
walters of the earth. have often thought
men are so generally exempt from the con-
dition that when 1t does occur to one it Is
made the theme of an epic Of story. Enoch
Arden under his palm tree is a tale to move
the world to pity. To be sure, he was only
waiting for ship, and a woman is almost
always waiting for a man. Lord Tennyson
daSeribeS the drearuaSS and horo