Arizona republican., 1915-09-28

The following letter from Dan Craw.
 ford to Walter Hill will be read witt
 interest by many residents of Phoeni,
 who met this noted explorer and lee
 turer on his visit here two years ago
 Postal address: Luanza Mission. vis
 Elizabethville. Congo Beige, 17th June
 1915.
 Dear Friend:-
 Submissive to conventional decencies
 ] now send you this letter to tell oi
 my glad arrival in the Far Interior oi
 Africa From the day I left the train
 at Elizabethville until the arrival al
 Luanza was little less than month
 What contrast to the old dragging
 twenty-two months of protracted en-
 deavor.
 This ElizaDethville you see marked
 as part of my postal address is our last
 outpost of civilization on the northward
 route. From that point my letters go
 into a canvas bag and away they zig
 gag on a Negro's head across rivers.
 marshes and mountains. Turning my
 back on this last lingering memory of
 civilization. off we go into the long
 grass, and it sounded strange when well out into the forest to hear the re- cedlng train give a farewell screech of Its whistle The faithful friend of my pilgrimage for thousands of miles, how sensible of dear old Putting Billy" to. give me that steam salutation by way of long and loyal farewell. Yes, good bye. indeed. the clanking of thy coup Iings. oh! clashing and flashing train Fifteen miles an hour is poor pitiable ume for the run of a train but We here on our legs are cheaply out of it at fifteen miles per day Such is the candid contrast between the rival speed of the Iron Horse and "Shank's Pony Train travelling is not travelling at all- It is only being treated like a trunk or package. They pass you in. push you along, and out you get like the things in the luggage van They dld not move all the way-nor did voul
 The sun is shorter these days. so ev- cry little bit of tree-shade is at par. All my men-brave lads,-have 60 lbs per load on their shoulders and they stagger along under vertical rays. Af- Ter the seventh mile or so of this beast o1-ourden business he espies some sha- dN rlVer-then down goes the load, and down goes likewise the man who car rles It. Every bone in his body is ach- ing with the strain. Yet, instead of Delng m state of wild eyed misery. what does he do? Masking all the mu uncus feelings with face wreathed in smiles, ne will quip out some merry meaningless word. Then after fifteen miles of It here comes the latter and down goes the sun like a ball of fire and now it is the last hour of the dy- Ing day seems to concentrate all the pleasures Of the past. It is like the African evening sky. full of farewell rosy rays. that are all the rosier be- cause they are the last Then comes the best bit of all, I mean the evening altar in the woods. This is a great meeting with which we wind m the hard day, and if the sun made his exit sloriously We. too. have as fine a finish. Now It is the pilgrimage culminates in It's happiest moments All of. us. men every inch Of us. we look into each oth- CTS eyes and talk for Eternity. None of the nonchalance of the professional preacher about this bit of business.
 The first time I prayed in the forest with my natives around the flickering camp lire was memorable date Every moment was memento. Overhead the stars are blazing through the 1 night, and in the forest the hushed si ience of my men, Squatting in groups "lth their spears stuck point down. | wards Tn the ground. Small wonder if | ones voice quavered in a queer little | choke. But it is the great African moon ! l think, that makes memory so meas 1 nreless and so mighty Why not? Is | not the moon a mere memory of the | sunE Like memory. is not moonlight | the reflection of rays emanatine from ! an object no longer seen? No wonder. then. IL Is in the African moonlight that | memory erects it's screen and flashes l the moving pictures thereon They are | both alike. moon and memory, yes. both | merely the reflection of rays coming from something no longer visible. It | was when David say the moon (not the i sun) that the memory of his mediocri- | " began to grip him. When I con- ! sider the moon: what is man that Thou are mindful of hirn?" And | If night" in the dialect of Scripture | means the trials and troubles of like. ! then is 1t not written that the moon | was given to rule the night? Yes. the moon of memory still reflecting the i rays of good days and good deeds no |