For a considerable time Diboko (Nouvelles Anvers), or as it is most frequently called by white men generally when speaking to natives, Bangala, was the largest State station above Stanley Pool. A large number of natives were imported there from all the tribes on the Upper Congo, and this heterogeneous mass of humanity, often numbering over two thousand soldiers, workmen, and women, held communication with each other by means of the “trade language.” The smartest of the natives in the towns adjacent to Diboko quickly learned this jargon, and used it more or less fluently when communicating with the State soldiers and workmen; and the white men hearing the natives of the neighbourhood talking this lingo jumped to the conclusion that it was their own tongue in which they were conversing, and thus called it the Bangala language, and by that name it is now generally known on the Upper Congo. As it was with the “trade language” so it is with the “Bangala”; it varies considerably with the tribe using it. A Bobangi man when in difficulty for a word or phrase while speaking “Bangala” will fill up the hiatus with a word from his mother-tongue; the Bangalas, Bopoto, and Bosoko peoples will fill up the gaps, each from their own language, so that the “Bangala” spoken differs according to the district in which the traveller may be sojourning. A crew running a steamer, or a gang of men working on a station, though they may come from half a dozen different tribes, will quickly arrange a lingo of their own, and the white man running the steamer, or in charge of the station, will easily acquire the resulting patter, and up to a certain point make himself fairly well understood in all matters relating to the ordinary affairs of steamer or station life. In the near future there will be, no doubt, a language formed by a gradual selection of words and phrases from all the great languages on the river from Stanley Pool to Stanley Falls. Such a means of intercommunication will be a great boon to all concerned—black and white alike—a better understanding will result, and, as a consequence, a greater respect for each other. Directly we settled at Monsembe we began to learn the language of the people amongst whom we were living. The “trade language” was all that was necessary to a passer-by; it answered the purpose of bartering for food and dealing with the trivialities of life; but was absolutely inadequate for conveying our message as missionaries, or for dealing with the finer and deeper affairs of the minds, hearts, and souls of our parishioners. We _had_ therefore to learn the language, and we had no desire to shirk the drudgery, nor avoid the arduous, persistent effort such a study demanded, for we regarded it as a part of our work, and not the least interesting part either.