s on their heads and their pencils in their
woolly hair. In spite of everything they were a happy lot, with bright
eyes and nimble feet, and Mary loved them, and those that were
mischievous most of all. She also went down to the yards out of which
they came, and spoke to their fathers and mothers about Jesus, and
begged them to come to the Mission church.

When she had been out three years she fell ill, and was home-sick for
her mother and friends. Calabar then was like some of the flowers
growing in the bush, very pretty but very poisonous. Mary had fever so
badly and was so weak that she was glad to be put on board the steamer
and taken away.

In Scotland the cool winds and the loving care of her mother soon made
her strong again.

Sometimes she was asked to speak at meetings, but was very shy to face
people. One Sunday morning in Edinburgh she went to a children's church.
The superintendent asked her to come to the platform, but she would not
go. Then he explained to the children who she was, and begged her to
tell them something about Calabar. She blushed and refused. A hymn was
given out, during which the superintendent pled with her to say a few
words. "No, no, I cannot," she replied timidly. He was not to be beaten.
"Let us pray," he said. He prayed that Miss Slessor might be able to
give them a message. When he finished he appealed to her again. After a
pause she rose, and, turning her head half-away, spoke, not about
Calabar, but about the free and glad life which children in a Christian
land enjoyed, and how grateful they ought to be to Jesus, to whom they
owed it all.

When she reached Calabar again she was made very happy, for her dream
was to be a real missionary, and she found that she was to be in charge
of the women's work at Old Town, a place two miles higher up the river,
noted for its wickedness. She could now do as she liked, and save more
money to send home to her mother and sisters, for they were always first
in her thoughts. She lived in a hut built of mud and slips of bamboo,
with a roof of palm leaves, wore old clothes, and ate the cheap food of
the natives, yam and plantain and fish. Many white persons wondered why
she did this, and made remarks, but she did not tell them the reason:
she cared less than ever for the laughter and scorn of others.

[Illustration: TOWNS IN CALABAR.

There are so many winding creeks that the district looks like a jigsaw
puzzle.]

She soon became a power in