Mboga stands on a ridge of hills about 18 miles on the opposite side of the plain to Ruwenzori. The scenery was in charming contrast to that on the previous day’s journey as we lifted up on to high land. Forest arteries flowed through every bend and hollow from the great aorta of Stanley’s Pigmy Forest that stretched away for miles behind the Mboga Hills. The trees closely resembled the English oak and mountain ash; there was a marked scarcity of flowers, and my butterfly net remained quite limp as we climbed up for three hours till the Mission station appeared in sight. The people that came out to meet us broke up into two parts; the one went with Mr. Fisher to superintend camping operations, and I was borne off by the others to the Chief’s reception hall to hold audience with his mother, who had ready a big black native pot of smoked milk to offer me. Over one hundred women then streamed in to look at the first European lady who had visited their country. They exclaimed, “Bwana Fisher has much grace and love, for he was the first white man to come and tell us of the religion of Christ, and now he has brought to us the first lady.” A large open shed had been erected by the Chief Paulo Tabalo, under which our tent could be erected and so sheltered from the burning heat of the day, and it also provided us with a large airy sitting room, which was necessary for the four weeks we intended to remain. The first thing that was absolutely essential to take in hand was the building of a new Church, for the reed one standing was totally inadequate to accommodate the people. Consequently each morning after a brief service the men and women poured across to the new site to start operations. The men, headed by their Chief, went off into the forests for poles, and the women, laying aside their white linen draperies, handled their hoes, and in a few days had completely cleared the plot of all the long grass with which it had been covered. It was quite astonishing to see the rapidity with which everybody went to work, and although the proposed large mud church looked rather a formidable undertaking, the Christians insisted on building a permanent mud house adjoining the Church, which they hoped would secure more frequent visits from the Missionary, or procure them an ordained teacher from Uganda. The late Sir Henry Stanley, in “Darkest Africa,” has given a most vivid picture of Mboga in his time. It was there he met with so much trouble and savage opposition from the natives. Paulo Tabalo tells a thrilling story of how his father collected together a large army to oppose the great white man on the banks of the Semliki River, but was compelled to flee, leaving behind a number of slain. Oppression has given place to justice, turbulence to peace, and the most abject fear of and subordination to the Evil Spirit is gradually being overcome by knowledge and trust in God.