{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_8906/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_8906","id":"gutenberg_8906","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8906","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Biographies","Category: History - Modern (1750+)","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Missionaries -- Nigeria -- Biography","Missionaries -- Scotland -- Biography","Slessor, Mary Mitchell, 1848-1915"],"text":"Produced by Distributed Proofreaders\n\n\n\n\n                              MARY SLESSOR\n\n                               OF CALABAR\n\n                           PIONEER MISSIONARY\n\n                                   BY\n\n                           W. P. LIVINGSTONE\n\n\n\n                             PREFATORY NOTE\n\n\n_Life for most people is governed by authority and convention, but\nbehind these there lies always the mystery of human nature, uncertain\nand elusive, and apt now and again to go off at a tangent and disturb\nthe smooth working of organised routine. Some man or woman will appear\nwho departs from the normal order of procedure, who follows ideals\nrather than rules, and whose methods are irregular, and often, in the\neyes of onlookers, unwise. They may be poor or frail, and in their own\nestimation of no account, yet it is often they who are used for the\naccomplishment--of important ends. Such a one was Mary Slessor._\n\n_Towards the end of her days she was urged to write her autobiography,\nbut was surprised at the proposal, and asked what she had done to merit\nthe distinction of being put in a book. She was so humble-minded that\nshe could not discern any special virtue in her life of self-sacrifice\nand heroism; and she disliked publicity and was shamed by praise. When\nthe matter was pressed upon her in view of the inspiration which a\nnarrative of her experiences and adventures would be for others, she\nbegan to consider whether it might not be a duty, she never shrank from\nany duty however unpleasant. Her belief was that argument and theory\nhad no effect in arousing interest in missionary enterprise; that the\nonly means of setting the heart on fire the magnetism of personal touch\nand example; and she indicated that if account of her service would\nhelp to stimulate and strengthen the faith of the supporters of the\nwork, she would be prepared to supply the material. She died before the\nintention could be carried further, but from many sources, and chiefly\nfrom her own letters, it has been possible to piece together the main\nfacts of her wonderful career._\n\n_One, however, has no hope of giving an adequate picture of her complex\nnature, so full of contrasts and opposites. She was a woman of affairs,\nwith a wide and catholic outlook upon humanity, and yet she was a shy\nsolitary walking alone in puritan simplicity and childlike faith. Few\nham possessed such moral and physical courage, or exercised such\nimperious power over savage peoples, yet on trivial occasions she was\nabjectly timid and afraid, A sufferer from chronic malarial affection,\nand a martyr to pains her days were filled in with unremitting toil.\nOverflowing with love and tender feeling, she could be stern and\nexacting. Shrewd, practical, and matter of fact, she believed that\nsentiment was a gift of God, and frankly indulged in it. Living always\nin the midst of dense spiritual darkness, and often depressed and\nworried, she maintained unimpaired a sense of humour and laughter.\nStrong and tenacious of will, she admitted the right of others to\noppose her. These are but illustrations of the perpetual play of light\nand shade in her character which made her difficult to understand. Many\ncould not see her greatness for what they called her eccentricities,\nforgetting, or perhaps being unaware of, what she had passed through,\nexperiences such as no other woman had undergone, which explained much\nthat seemed unusual in her conduct. But when her life is viewed as a\nwhole, and in the light of what she achieved, all these angles and\noddities fall away, and she stands out, a woman of unique and inspiring\npersonality, and one of the most heroic figures of the age._\n\n_Some have said that she was in a sense a miracle, and not, therefore,\nfor ordinary people to emulate. Such an estimate she would have stoutly\nrepudiated. It is true that she began life with the gift of a strong\ncharacter, but many possess that and yet come to nothing. She had, on\nthe other hand, disadvantages and obstacles that few have to encounter.\nIt was by surrender, dedication, and unwearied devotion that she grew\ninto her power of attainment, and all can adventure on the same path.\nIt was love for Christ that made her what she was, and there is no\nlimit set in that direction. Such opportunity as she had, lies before\nthe lowliest disciples; even out of the commonplace Love can carve\nheroines. \"There is nothing small or trivial,\" she once said, \"for God\nis ready to take every act and motive and work through them to the\nformation of character and the development of holy and useful lives\nthat will convey grace to the world.\" It was so in her case, and hence\nthe value of her example, and the warrant for telling the story of her\nlife so that others may be influenced to follow aims as noble, and to\nstrive, if not always in the same manner, at least with a like courage,\nand in the same patient and indomitable spirit.\n\n                                                 W.P.L._\n\n\n\n\n              CONTENTS\n\n            FIRST PHASE\n\n      A SCOTTISH FACTORY GIRL\n\n CHAPTER I. SAVED BY FEAR\n CHAPTER II. IN THE WEAVING-SHED\n CHAPTER III. MISERY\n CHAPTER IV. TAMING THE ROUGHS\n CHAPTER V. SELF-CULTURE\n CHAPTER VI. A TRAGIC LAND\n CHAPTER VII. THE THREE MARYS\n\n\n            SECOND PHASE\n\n   WORK AND ADVENTURE AT THE BASE\n\nCHAPTER I. THE BREATH OF THE TROPICS\nCHAPTER II. FIRST IMPRESSIONS\nCHAPTER III. IN THE UNDERWORLD\nCHAPTER IV. THE PULL OF HOME\nCHAPTER V. AT THE SEAT OF SATAN\nCHAPTER VI. IN ELEPHANT COUNTRY\nCHAPTER VII. WITH BACK TO THE WALL\nCHAPTER VIII. BEREFT\nCHAPTER IX. THE SORROWS OF CREEK TOWN\nCHAPTER X. THE FULNESS OF THE TIME\n\n\n            THIRD PHASE\n\n      THE CONQUEST OF OKOYONG\n\nCHAPTER I. A TRIBE OF TERRORISTS\nCHAPTER II. IN THE ROYAL CANOE\nCHAPTER III. THE ADVENTURE OF TAKING POSSESSION\nCHAPTER IV. FACING AN ANGBY MOB\nCHAPTER V. LIFE IN THE HAREM\nCHAPTER VI. STRANGE DOINGS\nCHAPTER VII. FIGHTING A GRIM FOE\nCHAPTER VIII. THE POWER OF WITCHCRAFT\nCHAPTER IX. SORCERY IN THE PATH\nCHAPTER X. HOW HOUSE AND HALL WERE BUILT\nCHAPTER XI. A PALAVER AT THE PALACE\nCHAPTER XII. THE SCOTTISH CARPENTER\nCHAPTER XIII. HER GREATEST BATTLE AND VICTORY\nCHAPTER XIV. THE AFTERMATH\nCHAPTER XV. THE SWEET AND THE STRONG\nCHAPTER XVI. WAR IN THE GATES\nCHAPTER XVII. AMONG THE CHURCHES\nCHAPTER XVIII. LOVE OF LOVER\nCHAPTER XIX. A LETTER AND ITS RESULT\nCHAPTER XX. THE BLOOD COVENANT\nCHAPTER XXI. \"RUN, MA! RUN!\"\nCHAPTER XXII. A GOVERNMENT AGENT\nCHAPTER XXIII. \"ECCENTRICITIES,\" SPADE-WORK, AND DAY-DREAMS\nCHAPTER XXIV. MAIDEN-MOTHER AND ANGEL-CHILD\nCHAPTER XXV. MARY KINGSLEY'S VISIT\nCHAPTER XXVI. AN ALL-NIGHT JOURNEY\nCHAPTER XXVII. AKOM: A FIRST-FRUIT\nCHAPTER XXVIII. THE BOX FROM HOME\nCHAPTER XXIX. AN APPEAL TO THE CONSUL\nCHAPTER XXX. AFTER SEVEN YEARS\nCHAPTER XXXI. THE PASSING OF THE CHIEFS\nCHAPTER XXXII. CLOTHED BY FAITH\nCHAPTER XXXIII. THE SHY SPEAKER\nCHAPTER XXXIV. ISOLATION\n                1. A MOTHER IN ISRAEL\n                2. THE CARES OF A HOUSEHOLD\nCHAPTER XXXV. EXILED TO CREEK TOWN\nCHAPTER XXXVI. PICTURES AND IMPRESSIONS\nCHAPTER XXXVII. A NIGHT IN THE BUSH\nCHAPTER XXXVIII. WITH LOVING-KINDNESS CROWNED\n\n\n            FOURTH PHASE\n\n  THE ROMANCE OF THE ENYONG CREEK\n\nCHAPTER I. THE REIGN OF THE LONG JUJU\nCHAPTER II. PLANTING A BASE\nCHAPTER III. ON TO AROCHUKU\nCHAPTER IV. A SLAVE-GIRL'S TRIUMPH\nCHAPTER V. A BUSH FURLOUGH\nCHAPTER VI. BEGINNINGS\nCHAPTER VII. MOVING INLAND\nCHAPTER VIII. THE PROBLEM OF THE WOMEN\nCHAPTER IX. A CHRISTMAS PARTY\nCHAPTER X. MUTINOUS\nCHAPTER XI. ON THE BENCH\nCHAPTER XII. A VISITOR'S NOTES\nCHAPTER XIII. A REST-HOME\nCHAPTER XIV. SCOTLAND: THE LAST FAREWELL\nCHAPTER XV. GROWING WEATHER\nCHAPTER XVI. \"THE PITY OF IT\"\nCHAPTER XVII. THE SETTLEMENT BEGUN\nCHAPTER XVIII. A SCOTTISH GUEST\nCHAPTER XIX. A MOTOR CAR ROMANCE\nCHAPTER XX. STRUCK DOWN\n\n\n            FIFTH PHASE\n\n           ONWARD STILL\n\nCHAPTER I. IN HEATHEN DEEPS\nCHAPTER II. \"REAL LIFE\"\nCHAPTER III. THE AUTOCRATIC DOCTOR\nCHAPTER IV. GOD'S WONDERFUL PALAVER\nCHAPTER V. WEAK BUT STRONG\nCHAPTER VI. HER FIRST HOLIDAY\nCHAPTER VII. INJURED\nCHAPTER VIII. FRIENDSHIPS WITH OFFICIALS\nCHAPTER IX. POWER THBOUGH PRAYER\nCHAPTER X. BIBLE STUDENT\nCHAPTER XI. BACK TO THE OLD HAUNTS\nCHAPTER XII. ROYAL RECOGNITION\nCHAPTER XIII. BATTLE FOR A LIFE\nCHAPTER XIV. A VISION OF THE NIGHT\nCHAPTER XV. STORMING THE CITADELS\nCHAPTER XVI. CLARION CALLS\nCHAPTER XVII. LOVE-LETTERS\nCHAPTER XVIII. A LONELY FIGURE\nCHAPTER XIX. WHEN THE GREAT WAR CAME\nCHAPTER XX. THE TIME OF THE SINGING OF BIRDS\nCHAPTER XXI. TRIBUTE AND TREASURE\nCHAPTER XXII. SEEN AND UNSEEN\nCHAPTER XXIII. THE ALABASTER BOX\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\nMary M. Slessor\nCalabar Mission Field in 1876\nMiss Slessor and some of the People of Ekenge\nCalabar Chief of the Present Day\nCalabar Sword\nKing Eyo's State Canoe\nThe First Church in Okoyong--at Ifako\nMiss Slessor's Mission House at Ekenge\n\"Ma's\" Quarters at Akpap\nThe Tragedy of Twins\nThe Okoyong Household in Scotland\nNative Court in Okoyong\nCalabar Mission Map of the Present Day\nA Glimpse of the Enyong Creek\nItu, showing the Beach where the Slave-market was held\nCourt House at Ikotobong\n\"Ma,\" with the Material for the Native Oath at her Feet\nAdministering the Native Oath to a Witness\nThe Government Motor Car\nMiss Slessor's Heathen Friend, Ma Eme\nOne of Miss Slessor's Bibles\nMiss Slessor's Silver Cross\nThe House on the Hill-top at Odoro Ikpe\nThe Last Photograph of the Household\n\n\n\n\n                              FIRST PHASE\n\n                          1848-1876. Age 1-28.\n\n                        A SCOTTISH FACTORY GIRL\n\n         _\"It was the dream of my girlhood to be a missionary\n                             to Calabar_.\"\n\n                           I. SAVED BY FEAR\n\nWhen the founding of the Calabar Mission on the West Coast of Africa\nwas creating a stir throughout Scotland, there came into a lowly home\nin Aberdeen a life that was to be known far and wide in connection with\nthe enterprise. On December 2, 1848, Mary Mitchell Slessor was born in\nGilcomston, a suburb of the city.\n\nHer father, Robert Slessor, belonged to Buchan, and was a shoemaker.\nHer mother, who came from Old Meldrum, was an only child, and had been\nbrought up in a home of refinement and piety. She is described by those\nwho knew her as a sweet-faced woman, patient, gentle, and retiring,\nwith a deeply religious disposition, but without any special feature of\ncharacter, such as one would have expected to find in the mother of so\nuncommon a daughter. It was from her, however, that Mary got her soft\nvoice and loving heart.\n\nMary was the second of seven children. Of her infancy and girlhood\nlittle is known. Her own earliest recollections were associated with\nthe name of Calabar. Mrs. Slessor was a member of Belmont Street United\nPresbyterian Church, and was deeply interested in the adventure going\nforward in that foreign field. \"I had,\" said Mary, \"my missionary\nenthusiasm for Calabar in particular from her--she knew from its\ninception all that was to be known of its history.\" Both she and her\nelder brother Robert heard much talk of it in the home, and the latter\nused to announce that he was going to be a missionary when he was a\nman. So great a career was, of course, out of the reach of girls, but\nhe consoled Mary by promising to take her with him into the pulpit.\nOften Mary played at keeping school; and it is interesting to note that\nthe imaginary scholars she taught and admonished were always black.\nRobert did not survive these years, and Mary became the eldest.\n\nDark days came. Mr. Slessor unhappily drifted into habits of\nintemperance and lost his situation, and when he suggested removing to\nDundee, then coming to the front as an industrial town and promising\nopportunities for the employment of young people, his wife consented,\nalthough it was hard for her to part from old friends and associations.\nBut she hoped that in a strange city, where the past was unknown, her\nhusband might begin life afresh and succeed. The family went south in\n1859, and entered on a period of struggle and hardship. The money\nrealised by the sale of the furniture melted away, and the new house\nwas bare and comfortless, Mr. Slessor continued his occupation as a\nshoemaker, and then became a labourer in one of the mills.\n\nThe youngest child, Janie, was born in Dundee. All the family were\ndelicate, and it was not long before Mary was left with only two\nsisters and a brother--Susan, John, and Janie. Mrs. Slessor's fragility\nprevented her battling successfully with trial and misfortune, but no\nchildren could have been trained with more scrupulous care. \"I owe a\ngreat debt of gratitude to my sainted mother,\" said Mary, long\nafterwards. Especially was she solicitous for their religious well-\nbeing. On coming to Dundee she had connected herself with Wishart\nChurch in the east end of the Cowgate, a modest building, above a\nseries of shops near the Port Gate from the parapets of which George\nWishart preached during the plague of 1544. Here the children were sent\nto the regular services--with a drop of perfume on their handkerchiefs\nand gloves and a peppermint in their pockets for sermon-time--and also\nattended the Sunday School.\n\nMary's own recollection of herself at this period was that she was \"a\nwild lassie.\" She would often go back in thought to these days, and\nincidents would flash into memory that half amused and half shamed her.\nSome of her escapades she would describe with whimsical zest, and\ntrivial as they were they served to show that, even then, her native\nwit and resource were always ready to hand. But very early the Change\ncame. An old widow, living in a room in the back lands, used to watch\nthe children running about the doors, and in her anxiety for their\nwelfare sought to gather some of the girls together and talk to them,\nyoung as they were, about the matters that concerned their souls. One\nafternoon in winter they had come out of the cold and darkness into the\nglow of her fire, and were sitting listening to her description of the\ndangers that beset all who neglected salvation.\n\n\"Do ye see that fire?\" she exclaimed suddenly. \"If ye were to put your\nhand into the lowes it would be gey sair. It would burn ye. But if ye\ndinna repent and believe on the Lord Jesus Christ your soul will burn\nin the lowin' bleezin' fire for ever and ever!\"\n\nThe words went like arrows to Mary's heart; she could not get the\nvision of eternal torment out of her mind: it banished sleep, and she\ncame to the conclusion that it would be best for her to make her peace\nwith God. She \"repented and believed.\" It was hell-fire that drove her\ninto the Kingdom, she would sometimes say. But once there she found it\nto be a Kingdom of love and tenderness and mercy, and never throughout\nher career did she seek to bring any one into it, as she had come, by\nthe process of shock and fear.\n\n\n\n\n                        II. IN THE WEAVING-SHED\n\nThe time came when Mrs. Slessor herself was compelled to enter one of\nthe factories in order to maintain the home, and many of the cares and\nworries of a household fell upon Mary. But at eleven she, too, was sent\nout to begin to earn a livelihood. In the textile works of Messrs.\nBaxter Brothers & Company she became what was known as a half-timer,\none who wrought half the day and went to the school in connection with\nthe works the other half. When she was put on full time she attended\nthe school held at night. Shortly afterward she entered Rashiewell\nfactory to learn weaving under the supervision of her mother. After\ntrying the conditions in two other works she returned, about the age of\nfourteen, to Baxter's, where she soon became an expert and well-paid\nworker. Her designation was a \"weaver\" or \"factory girl,\" not a \"mill-\ngirl,\" this term locally being restricted to spinners in the mills.\nWhen she handed her first earnings to her mother the latter wept over\nthem, and put them away as too sacred to use. But her wage was\nindispensable for the support of the home, and eventually she became\nits chief mainstay.\n\nLife in the great factory in which she was but a unit amongst thousands\nwas hard and monotonous. The hours of the workers were from six A.M. to\nsix P.M., with one hour for breakfast and one for dinner. Mary was\nstationed in a room or shed, which has very much the same appearance\nto-day. Now as then the belts are whirring, the looms are moving, the\ngirls are handling the shuttles, and the air is filled with a din so\ncontinuous and intense that speech is well-nigh impossible. Mary had to\nbe up every morning at five o'clock, as she helped in the work of the\nhome before going out, while similar duties claimed her at night.\nThough naturally bright and refined in disposition she was at this time\nalmost wholly uneducated. From the factory schools she had brought only\na meagre knowledge of reading and arithmetic, and she had read little\nsave the books obtained from the library of the Sunday School. But her\nmind was opening, she was becoming conscious of the outer world and all\nits interests and wonders, and she was eager to know and understand. In\norder to study she began to steal time from sleep. She carried a book\nwith her to the mill, and, like David Livingstone at Blantyre, laid it\non the loom and glanced at it in her free moments. So anxious was she\nto learn that she read on her way to and from the factory. It was not a\nroyal road, that thoroughfare of grim streets, but it led her into many\na shining region.\n\nHer only source of outside interest was the Church. From the Sunday\nSchool she passed into the Bible Class, where her attendance was never\nperfunctory, for she enjoyed the teaching and extracted all she could\nout of it. She would carry home the statements that arrested and\npuzzled her, and refer them to her mother, who, however, did not always\nfind it easy to satisfy her. \"Is baptism necessary for salvation,\nmother?\" was one of her questions. \"Well,\" her mother replied, \"it says\nthat he that repents and is baptized shall be saved; but it does not\nsay that he that repents and is not baptized shall be damned.\" Some of\nher mother's sayings at this time she never forgot. \"When one duty\njostles another, one is not a duty,\" she was once told. And again,\n\"Thank God for what you receive: thank God for what you do not receive:\nthank God for the sins you are delivered from; and thank God for the\nsins that you know nothing at all about, and are never tempted to\ncommit.\"\n\nMary was a favourite with her classmates. There was something about her\neven then which drew others to her. One, the daughter of an elder,\ntells how, though much younger, she was attracted to her by her\ngoodness and her kind ways, and how she would often go early to meet\nher in order to enjoy her company to the class.\n\n\n\n\n                              III. MISERY\n\nThe explanation of much in Mary Slessor's character lies in these early\nyears, and she cannot be fully understood unless the unhappy\ncircumstances in her home are taken into account. She was usually\nreticent regarding her father, but once she wrote and published under\nher own name what is known to be the story of this painful period of\nher girlhood. There is no need to reproduce it, but some reference to\nthe facts is necessary if only to show how bravely she battled against\nhardship and difficulties even then.\n\nThe weakness of Mr. Slessor was not cured by the change in his\nsurroundings. All the endearments of his wife and daughter were\npowerless to save the man whose heart was tender enough when he was\nsober, but whose moral sensibilities continued to be sapped by his\nindulgence in drink. Every penny he could lay hands upon was spent in\nthis way, and the mother was often reduced to sore straits to feed and\nclothe the children. Not infrequently Mary had to perform a duty\nrepugnant to her sensitive nature. She would leave the factory after\nher long toil, and run home, pick up a parcel which her mother had\nprepared, and fly like a hunted thing along the shadiest and quietest\nstreets, making many a turning in order to avoid her friends, to the\nnearest pawnbroker's. Then with sufficient money for the week's\nrequirements she would hurry back with a thankful heart, and answer the\nmother's anxious, questioning eyes with a glad light in her own. A kiss\nwould be her reward, and she would be sent out to pay the more pressing\nbills.\n\nThere was one night of terror in every week. On Saturday, after the\nother children were in bed, the mother and daughter sat sewing or\nknitting in silence through long hours, waiting in sickening\napprehension for the sound of uncertain footsteps on the stairs. Now\nand again they prayed to quieten their hearts. Yet they longed for his\ncoming. When he appeared he would throw into the fire the supper they\nhad stinted themselves to provide for him. Sometimes Mary was forced\nout into the streets where she wandered in the dark, alone, sobbing out\nher misery.\n\nAll the efforts of wife and daughter were directed towards hiding the\nskeleton in the house. The fear of exposure before the neighbours, the\ndread lest Mary's church friends should come to know the secret, made\nthe two sad souls pinch and struggle and suffer with endless patience.\nNone of the other children was aware of the long vigils that were\nspent. The fact that the family was never disgraced in public was\nattributed to prayer. The mother prayed, the daughter prayed,\nceaselessly, with utter simplicity of belief, and they were never once\nleft stranded or put to shame. Their faith not only saved them from\ndespair, it made them happy in the intervals of their distress. Few\nbrighter or more hopeful families gathered in church from Sunday to\nSunday.\n\nNevertheless these days left their mark upon Mary for life. She was at\nthe plastic age, she was gentle and sensitive and loving, and what she\npassed through hurt and saddened her spirit. To the end it was the only\nmemory that had power to send a shaft of bitterness across the\nsweetness of her nature. It added to her shyness and to her reluctance\nto appear in public and speak, which was afterwards so much commented\nupon, for always at the back of her mind was the consciousness of that\ndark and wretched time. The reaction on her character, however, was not\nall evil; suffering in the innocent has its compensations. It deepened\nher sympathy and pity for others. It made her the fierce champion of\nlittle children, and the refuge of the weak and oppressed. It prepared\nher also for the task of combating the trade in spirits on the West\nCoast, and for dealing with the drunken tribes amongst whom she came to\ndwell. Her experience then was, indeed, the beginning of her training\nfor the work she had to accomplish in the future....\n\nThe father died, and the strain was removed, and Mary became the chief\nsupport of the home. Those who knew her then state that her life was\none long act of self-denial; all her own inclinations and interests\nwere surrendered for the sake of the family, and she was content with\nbare necessaries so long as they were provided for.\n\n\n\n\n                         IV. TAMING THE ROUGHS\n\nIn her church work she continued to find the little distraction from\ntoil which gave life its savour. She began to attend the Sabbath\nMorning Fellowship and week-night prayer meetings. She also taught a\nclass of \"lovable lassies\" in the Sabbath School--\"I had the impudence\nof ignorance then in special degree surely\" was her mature comment on\nthis--and became a distributor of the _Monthly Visitor_. Despite the\nweary hours in the factory, and a long walk to and from the church, she\nwas never absent from any of the services or meetings. \"We would as\nsoon have thought of going to the moon as of being absent from a\nservice,\" she wrote shortly before she died. \"And we throve very well\non it too. How often, when lying awake at night, my time for thinking,\ndo I go back to those wonderful days!\"\n\nShe owed much to her association with the Church, but more to her\nBible. Once a girl asked her for something to read, and she handed her\nthe Book saying, \"Take that; it has made me a changed lassie.\" The\nstudy of it was less a duty than a joy; it was like reading a message\naddressed specially to herself, containing news of surpassing personal\ninterest and import. God was very real to her. To think that behind all\nthe strain and struggle and show of the world there was a Personality,\nnot a thought or a dream, not something she could not tell what, in\nspaces she knew not where, but One who was actual and close to her,\noverflowing with love and compassion, and ready to listen to her, and\nto heal and guide and strengthen her--it was marvellous. She wished to\nknow all He had to tell her, in order that she might rule her conduct\naccording to His will. Most of all it was the story of Christ that she\npored over and thought about. His Divine majesty, the beauty and grace\nof His life, the pathos of His death on the Cross, affected her\ninexpressibly. But it was His love, so strong, so tender, so pitiful,\nthat won her heart and devotion and filled her with a happiness and\npeace that suffused her inner life like sunshine. In return she loved\nHim with a love so intense that it was often a pain. She felt that she\ncould not do enough for one who had done so much for her. As the years\npassed she surrendered herself more and more to His influence, and was\nready for any duty she was called upon to do for Him, no matter how\nhumble or exacting it might be. It was this passion of love and\ngratitude, this abandonment of self, this longing for service, that\ncarried her into her life-work.\n\nWishart Church stood in the midst of slums. Pends, or arched passages,\nled from the Cowgate into tall tenements with outside spiral stairs\nwhich opened upon a maze of landings and homes. Out of these sunless\nrookeries tides of young life poured by night and day, and spread over\nthe neighbouring streets in undisciplined freedom. Mary's heart often\nached for these boys and girls, whom she loved in spite of all their\nroughness; and when a mission was determined on, and a room was taken\nat 6 Queen Street--a small side thoroughfare nearly opposite Quarry\nPend, one of the worst of the alleys--she volunteered as a teacher. And\nso began a second period of stem training which was to serve her well\nin the years to come. The wilder spirits made sport of the meetings and\nendeavoured to wreck them. \"That little room,\" she wrote, \"was full of\nromantic experiences.\" There was danger outside when the staff\nseparated, and she recalled how several of the older men surrounded the\n\"smaller individuals\" when they faced the storm. One of these was Mr.\nJ. H. Smith, who became her warm friend and counsellor.\n\nAs the mission developed, a shop under the church at the side of\nWishart Pend was taken and the meetings transferred to it, she having\ncharge of classes for boys and girls both on Sundays and week-nights.\nOpen-air work was at that time dangerous, but she and a few others\nattempted it: they were opposed by roughs and pelted with mud. There\nwas one gang that was resolved to break up the mission with which she\nhad come to be identified. One night they closed in about her on the\nstreet. The leader carried a leaden weight at the end of a piece of\ncord, and swung it threateningly round her head. She stood her ground.\nNearer and nearer the missile came. It shaved her brow. She never\nwinced. The weight crashed to the ground. \"She's game, boys,\" he\nexclaimed. To show their appreciation of her spirit they went in a body\nto the meeting. There her bright eyes, her sympathy, and her firmness\nshaped them into order and attention....\n\nOn the wall of one of her bush houses in West Africa there used to hang\na photograph of a man and his wife and family. The man was the lad who\nhad swung the lead. On attaining a good position he had sent her the\nphotograph in grateful remembrance of what had been the turning-point\nin his life....\n\nAnother lad, a bully, used to stand outside the hall with a whip in\nhand driving the young fellows into \"Mary Slessor's meeting,\" but\nrefusing to go in himself. One day the girl weaver faced him. \"If we\nchanged places what would happen?\" she asked, and he replied, \"I would\nget this whip across my back.\" She turned her back. \"I'll bear it for\nyou if you'll go in,\" she said. \"Would you really bear that for me?\"\n\"Yes, and far more--go on, I mean it.\" He threw down the whip and\nfollowed her in, and gave himself the same day to Christ. Even then she\nwas unconventional in her methods and was criticised for it. She had a\npassion for the countryside, and often on Saturday afternoons she would\ntake her class of lads away out to the green fields, regardless of\nsocial canons.\n\nBy and by a new field of work was opened up when a number of\nprogressive minds in the city formed Victoria Street United\nPresbyterian congregation, not far from her familiar haunts. In\nconnection with the movement a mission service for the young was\nstarted on Sunday mornings under the presidency of Mr. James Logic, of\nTay Square Church, and to him Mary offered her services as a monitor.\nMr. Logie soon noticed the capacity of the young assistant and won her\nconfidence and regard. Like most people she was unconscious at the\nmoment of the unseen forces moulding her life, but she came in after\ndays to realise the wise ordering of this friendship. Mr. Logie became\ninterested in her work and ideals, and sought to promote her interests\nin every way. She came to trust Mm implicitly--\"He is the best earthly\nfriend I have,\" she wrote-and he guided her thenceforward in all her\nmoney affairs.\n\nShe was as successful with the lads at this service as she had been\nelsewhere. Before the meeting she would flit through the dark passages\nin the tenements and knock, and rouse them up from sleep, and plead\nwith them to turn out to it. Her influence over them was extraordinary,\nThey adored her and gave her shy allegiance, and the result was seen in\nchanged habits and transformed lives. It was the same in the houses she\nvisited. She went there not as one who was superior to the inmates, but\nas one of themselves. In the most natural way she would sit down by the\nfire and nurse a child, or take a cup of tea at the table. Her\nsympathy, her delicate tact, her cheery counsel won many a woman's\nheart and braced her for higher endeavour. It was the same in the\nfactory; her influence told on the workers about her; some she\nstrengthened, others she won over to Christ, and these created an\natmosphere which was felt throughout the building.\n\nAnd yet what was she? Only a working girl, plain in appearance and in\ndress, diffident and self-effacing. \"But,\" says one whom she used to\ntake down as a boy to the mission and place beside her as she taught,\n\"she possessed something we could not grasp, something indefinable.\" It\nwas the glow of the spirit of Christ which lit up her inner life and\nshone in her face, and which, unknown even to herself, was then and\nafterwards the source of her distinction and her power.\n\n\n\n\n                            V. SELF-CULTURE\n\nFor fourteen years, and these the freshest and fairest years of her\nlife, she toiled in the factory for ten hours each full day, while she\nalso gave faithful service in the mission. And yet she continued to\nfind time for the sedulous culture of her mind. She was always\nborrowing books and extracting what was best in them. Not all were\nprofitable. One was _The Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul_ by\nPhilip Doddridge, a volume much pondered then in Scottish homes. A\nfriend who noticed that she was somewhat cast down said to her, \"Why,\nMary, what's the matter? You look very glum.\" \"I canna do it,\" she\nreplied. \"Canna do what?\" \"I canna meditate, and Doddridge says it is\nnecessary for the soul. If I try to meditate my mind just goes a'\nroads.\" \"Well, never mind meditation,\" her friend said. \"Go and work,\nfor that's what God means us to do,\" and she followed his advice. Of\nher introduction to the fields of higher literature we have one\nreminiscence. Her spirit was so eager, she read so much and so quickly,\nthat a friend sought to test her by lending her _Sartor Resartus_. She\ncarried it home, and when next he met her he asked quizzically how she\nhad got on with Carlyle. \"It is grand!\" she replied. \"I sat up reading\nit, and was so interested that I did not know what the time was, until\nI heard the factory bells calling me to work in the morning!\"\n\nThere was no restraining her after that. She broadened and deepened in\nthought and outlook, and gradually acquired the art of expressing\nherself, both in speech and writing, in language that was deft, lucid,\nand vigorous, Her style was formed insensibly from her constant reading\nof the Bible, and had then a grave dignity and balance unlike the more\npicturesque, if looser, touch of later years. The papers that were read\nfrom her at the Fellowship Association were marked by a felicity of\nphrase as well as an insight and spiritual fervour unusual in a girl.\nHer alertness of intellect often astonished those who heard her engaged\nin argument with the agnostics and freethinkers whom she encountered in\nthe course of her visiting. She spoke simply, but with a directness and\nsincerity that arrested attention. Often asked to address meetings in\nother parts of Dundee, she shrank from the ordeal. On one occasion a\nfriend went with her, but she could not be persuaded to go on the\nplatform. She sat in the middle of the hall and had a quiet talk on the\nwords, \"The common people heard Him gladly.\" \"And,\" writes her friend,\n\"the common people heard her gladly, and crowded round her and pleaded\nthat she should come again.\"\n\n\n\n\n                           VI. A TRAGIC LAND\n\nThere was never a time when Mary was not interested in foreign\nmissions. The story of Calabar had impressed her imagination when a\nchild, and all through the years her eyes had been fixed on the great\nstruggle going on between the forces of light and darkness in the\nsphere of heathenism. The United Presbyterian Church in which she was\nbrought up placed the work abroad in the forefront of its activity; it\nhad missions in India, China, Jamaica, Calabar, and Kaffraria; and\nreports of the operations were given month by month in its _Missionary\nRecord_, and read in practically all the homes of its members. It was\npioneer work, and the missionaries were perpetually in the midst of\nadventure and peril. Their letters and narratives were eagerly looked\nfor; they gave to people who had never travelled visions of strange\nlands; they brought to them the scent and colour of the Orient and the\ntropics; and they introduced into the quietude of orderly homes the din\nof the bazaar and harem and kraal. These men and women in the far\noutposts became heroic figures to the Church, and whenever they\nreturned on furlough the people thronged to their meetings to see for\nthemselves the actors in such amazing happenings, and to hear from\ntheir own lips the story of their difficulties and triumphs.\n\nMrs. Slessor never missed hearing those who came to Dundee, and once\nshe was so much moved by an address from the Rev. William Anderson as\nto the needs of Old Calabar that she longed to dedicate her son John to\nthe work. He was a gentle lad, much loved by Mary. Apprenticed to a\nblacksmith, his health began to fail, and a change of climate became\nimperative. He emigrated to New Zealand, but died a week after landing.\nHis mother felt the blow to her hopes even more than his death. To Mary\nthe event was a bitter grief, and it turned her thoughts more directly\nto the foreign field. Could she fill her brother's place? Would it be\npossible for her ever to become a missionary? The idea floated for a\ntime through her mind, unformed and unconfessed, until it gradually\nresolved itself into a definite purpose. Sometimes she thought of\nKaffraria, with its red-blanketed people, but it was always Calabar to\nwhich she came back: it had from the first captivated her imagination,\nas it for good reason captivated the imagination of the Church.\n\nThe founding of the Mission had been a romance. It was not from\nScotland that the impulse came but from Jamaica in the West Indies. The\nslave population of that colony had been brought from the West Coast,\nand chiefly from the Calabar region, and although ground remorselessly\nin the mill of plantation life they had never forgotten their old home.\nWhen emancipation came and they settled down in freedom under the\ndirection and care of the missionaries their thoughts went over the\nocean to their fatherland, and they longed to see it also enjoy the\nblessings which the Gospel had brought to them. The agents of the\nScottish Missionary Society and of the United Secession Church, who,\ntogether, formed the Jamaica Presbytery, talked over the matter, and\nresolved to take action; and eight of their number dedicated themselves\nfor the service if called upon. A society was formed, and a fund was\nestablished to which the people contributed liberally. But the\nofficials at home were cold; they deprecated so uncertain a venture in\na pestilential climate. The Presbytery, undaunted, persevered with its\npreparations, and chose the Rev. Hope M. Waddell to be the first agent\nof the Society.\n\nIt is a far cry from Jamaica to Calabar, but a link of communication\nwas provided in a remarkable way. Many years previously a slaver had\nbeen wrecked in the neighbourhood of Calabar. The surgeon on board was\na young medical man named Ferguson, and he and the crew were treated\nwith kindness by the natives. After a time they were able by another\nslaver to sail for the West Indies, whence Dr. Ferguson returned home.\nHe became surgeon on a trader between Liverpool and Jamaica, making\nseveral voyages, and becoming well known in the colony. Settling down\nin Liverpool he experienced a spiritual change and became a Christian.\nHe was interested to hear of the movement in Jamaica, and remembering\nwith gratitude the friendliness shown him by the Calabar natives he\nundertook to find out whether they would accept a mission. This he did\nthrough captains of the trading vessels to whom he was hospitable. In\n1848 a memorial from the local king and seven chiefs was sent to him,\noffering ground and a welcome to any missionaries who might care to\ncome, This settled the matter. Mr. Waddell sailed from Jamaica for\nScotland to promote and organise the undertaking.\n\nHappily the Secession Church adopted the Calabar scheme, and after\nsecuring funds and a ship--one of the first subscriptions, it is\ninteresting to note, was \u00a31000 from Dr. Ferguson--Mr. Waddell, with\nseveral assistants sailed in 1846, and after many difficulties, which\nhe conquered with indomitable spirit and patience, founded the Mission.\nIn the following year it was taken over by the United Presbyterian\nChurch, which had been formed by the union of the United Secession and\nRelief Churches.\n\nIn no part of the foreign field were conditions more formidable.\nCalabar exhibited the worst side of nature and of man. While much of it\nwas beautiful, it was one of the most unhealthy spots in the world--\nsickness, disease, and swift death attacking the Europeans who ventured\nthere. The natives were considered to be the most degraded of any in\nAfrica. They were, in reality, the slum-dwellers of negro-land. From\ntime immemorial their race had occupied the equatorial region of the\ncontinent, a people without a history, with only a past of confused\nmovement, oppression, and terror. They seem to have been visited by\nadventurous navigators of galleys before the Christian era, but the\nworld in general knew nothing of them. On the land side they were shut\nin without hope of expansion. When they endeavoured to move up to the\ndrier Sahara and Soudanese regions they were met and pressed back by\nthe outposts of the higher civilisations of Egypt and Arabia, who\npreyed upon them, crushed them, enslaved them in vast numbers. And just\nas the coloured folk of American cities are kept in the low-lying and\nleast desirable localities, and as the humbler classes in European\ntowns find a home in east-end tenements, so all that was weakest and\npoorest in the negro race gravitated to the jungle areas and the\npoisonous swamps of the coast, where, hemmed in by the pathless sea,\nthey existed in unbroken isolation for ages. It was not until the\nfifteenth century that the explorations of the Portuguese opened up the\ncoast. Then, to the horrors of the internal slave-trade was added the\nhorror of the traffic for the markets of the West Indies and America.\nCalabar provided the slavers with their richest freight, the lands\nbehind were decimated and desolated, and scenes of tragedy and\nsuffering unspeakable were enacted on land and sea. Yet for 400 years\nEuropeans never penetrated more than a few miles inland. Away in the\nfar interior of the continent great kingdoms were known to exist, but\nall the vast coastal region was a mystery of rivers, swamps, and\nforests inhabited by savage negroes and wild beasts.\n\nIt is not surprising that when the missionaries arrived in Calabar they\nfound the natives to have been demoralised and degraded by the long\nperiod of lawlessness and rapine through which they had passed. They\ncharacterised them in a way that was appalling: many seemed indeed to\nhave difficulty in selecting words expressive enough for their purpose.\n\"Bloody,\" \"savage,\" \"crafty,\" \"cruel,\" \"treacherous,\" \"sensual,\"\n\"devilish,\" \"thievish,\" \"cannibals,\" \"fetish-worshippers,\" \"murderers,\"\nwere a few of the epithets applied to them by men accustomed to observe\nclosely and to weigh their words.\n\nNot an attractive people to work amongst. Neither must the dwellers of\nthe earth have appeared to Christ when He looked down from heaven ere\nHe took His place in their midst. And Mary Slessor shrank from nothing\nwhich she thought her Master would have done: she rather welcomed the\nhardest tasks, and considered it an honour and privilege to be given\nthem to do. She was not blind to the conditions at home. Often when at\nthe Mission she realised how great was the need of the slums, with\ntheir problems of poverty and irreligion and misery. But the people\nthere were within sight of church spires and within hearing of church\nbells, and there were many workers as capable as she: whilst down in\nthe slums of Africa there were millions who knew no more of the\nredemptive power of Christ than did the beasts of the field. She was\ntoo intelligent a student of the New Testament not to know that Christ\nmeant His disciples to spread His Gospel throughout the world, and too\nhonest not to realise that the command was laid upon every one who\nloved Him in spirit and in truth. It was therefore with a quiet and\nassured mind that she went forward to the realisation of the dream. She\ntold no one: she shrank even from mentioning the matter to her mother,\nbut patiently prepared for the coming change. In the factory she took\ncharge of two 60-inch looms, hard work for a young woman, but she\nneeded the money, and she never thought of toil if her object could be\ngained.\n\nEarly in 1874 the news of the death of Dr. Livingstone stirred the\nland: it was followed by a wave of missionary enthusiasm; and the call\nfor workers for the dark continent thrilled many a heart. It thrilled\nMary Slessor into action. She reviewed the situation. Her sisters were\nnow in good situations, and she saw her way to continue her share in\nthe support of the home. What this loyal determination implied she did\nnot guess then, but it was to have a large share in shaping her life.\nBroaching the subject to her mother she obtained a glad consent. One or\ntwo of her church friends were lukewarm; others, like Mr. Logic and Mr.\nSmith, encouraged her. The former, who was deeply interested in foreign\nmissions and soon afterwards became a member of the Foreign Mission\nCommittee, promised to look after her affairs during her sojourn\nabroad.\n\nIn May 1875 she offered her services to the Foreign Mission Board. Her\nheart was set on Calabar, but so eager was she to be accepted that she\nsaid she would be willing to go to any other field. Women agents had\nlong been engaged in Calabar. The first, Miss Miller, had gone out with\nMr. Waddell in l849-she became the \"Mammy\" Sutherland who did such\nnoble service-and they were playing an ever more important part, and\nwere stated to be both \"economical and effective.\" Requests had just\nbeen made for additions to the staff. The application was, therefore,\nopportune. Her personality, and the accounts given of her character and\nwork, made such an impression on the officials that they reported\nfavourably to the Board, and she was accepted as a teacher for Calabar\nand told to continue her studies in Dundee. In December it was decided\nto bring her to Edinburgh, at the expense of the Board, for three\nmonths, for special preparation....\n\nThe night before she left Dundee, in March 1876, she stood, a tearful\nfigure, at the mouth of the \"close\" where she lived. \"Good-bye,\" she\nsaid to a friend, and then passionately, \"Pray for me!\"\n\n\n\n\n                          VII. THE THREE MARYS\n\nA stranger in Edinburgh, Mary Slessor turned instinctively to Darling's\nTemperance Hotel, which was then, and is still, looked upon as a home\nby travellers from all parts of the globe. The Darlings, who were\nassociated with all good work, were then taking part in the revival\nmovement of Messrs. Moody and Sankey, and the two daughters, Bella and\nJane, were solo-singers at the meetings. The humble Dundee girl had\nheard of their powers, and she entered the hotel as if it were a\nshrine. Feeling very lonely and very shy, she attended the little\ngathering for worship which is held every evening, and was comforted\nand strengthened.\n\nShe found a lodging in the home of Mr. Robert Martin, a city\nmissionary, connected with Bristo Street congregation, and formed a\nfriendship for Ms daughter Mary. By her she was taken to visit a\ncompanion, Mary Doig, who lived in the south side. The three became\nintimates, and shortly afterward Miss Slessor went to live with the\nDoigs, and remained with them during her stay in the city. It was a\nhappy event for her. Warm-hearted and sympathetic, they treated her as\none of the family. A daughter who was married, Mrs. M'Crindle, also met\nher, and a lifelong affection sprang up between the two. In later days\nit was to Mrs. M'Crindle's house the tired missionary first came on her\nfurloughs.\n\nThough she attended the Normal School in the Canongate, she was not\nenrolled as a regular student, and her name does not appear on the\nbooks; but a memory of her presence lingers like a sweet fragrance, and\nshe appears to have been a power for good. One who was a student with\nher says: \"She had a most gracious and winning personality, and\nimpressed the students by her courage in going to what was called 'the\nwhite man's grave.' Her reply to questioners was that Calabar was the\npost of danger, and was therefore the post of honour. Few would\nvolunteer for service there, hence she wished to go, for it was there\nthe Master needed her. The beauty of her character showed itself in her\nface, and I have rarely seen one which showed so plainly that the love\nof God dwelt within. It was always associated in my mind with that of\nMiss Angelica Fraser; a heavenly radiance seemed to emanate from both.\"\n\nHer leisure hours were given up to miscellaneous mission work in the\ncity. Mary Doig and Mary Martin were both connected with Bristo Street\ncongregation, and worked in the mission at Cowan's Close,\nCrosscauseway, and they naturally took Mary Slessor with them. Another\nintimate friendship was formed with Miss Paxton, a worker in connection\nwith South Gray's Close Mission in the High Street. Miss Paxton was\nstanding at the entrance to the close one Sunday, after a meeting, when\nMiss Slessor passed up with a Mr. Bishop, who afterwards became the\nprinter at Calabar. Mr. Bishop introduced her. \"You want some one to\nhelp you?\" he said; \"you cannot do better than take Miss Slessor.\" The\ntwo were kindred spirits, and Mary was soon at home among Miss Paxton's\nclasses. Her first address to the women stands out clearly in the\nmemory of her friend, and is interesting as indicating her standpoint\nthen and throughout her life. It was on the question, \"What shall I do\nwith Jesus?\" She told them that Christ was standing before them as\nsurely as He stood before Pilate; and very earnestly she went on, \"Dear\nwomen, you must do something with Him: you must reject Him or you must\naccept Him. What are you going to do?\" She gave them no vision of hell-\nfire: she spoke to their reason and judgment, putting the great issue\nbefore them as a simple proposition, clear as light, inexorable as\nlogic, and left them to decide for themselves.\n\nHer two companions soon came under her influence. Their culture, piety,\nand practical gifts seemed to mark them out for missionaries, and as a\nresult of her persuasion they offered themselves to the Foreign Mission\nCommittee of the Church, and were accepted for China. In July the\nCommittee satisfied itself with regard to Miss Slessor's proficiency,\nand decided to send her out at once to Calabar. Her salary was fixed at\n\u00a360. Before sailing for their different stations the three Marys, as\nthey came to be known, attended many meetings together, and were a\nsource of interest to the Church.\n\nMiss Slessor was now twenty-eight years of age, a type of nature\npeculiarly characteristic of Scotland, the result of its godly\nmotherhood, the severe discipline of its social conditions, its stern\ntoil, its warm church life, its missionary enthusiasm. Mature in mind\nand body, she retained the freshness of girlhood, was vivacious and\nsympathetic, and, while aglow with spirituality, was very human and\nlikeable, with a heart as tender and wistful as a child's. What\nspecially distinguished her, says one who knew her well, were her\nhumility and the width and depth of her love. With diffidence, but in\nhigh hope, she went forward to weave the pattern of her service in the\nMission Field....\n\nShe sailed on August 5, 1876. Two Dundee companions went with her to\nLiverpool. At the docks they saw going on board the steamer Ethiopia,\nby which she was to travel, a large number of casks of spirits for the\nWest Coast. \"Scores of casks!\" she exclaimed ruefully, \"and only one\nmissionary!\"\n\n\n\n\n                              SECOND PHASE\n\n                          1876-1888. Age 28-40.\n\n                     WORK AND ADVENTURE AT THE BASE\n\n       _\"I am passing through the lights and shadows of life_.\"\n\n                     I. THE BREATH OF THE TROPICS\n\nThere is a glamour like the glamour of the dawn about one's first\nvoyage to the tropics; and as the _Ethiopia_ passed out of the grey\natmosphere of England into the spring belt of the world, and then into\na region where the days were a glory of sunshine and colour and the\nnights balmy and serene, Miss Slessor, so long confined within the bare\nwalls of a factory, found the experience a pure delight in spite of a\nsense of loneliness that sometimes stole over her. Her chief grievance\nwas that Sunday was kept like other days. Trained in the habits of a\nreligious Scottish home it seemed to her extraordinary that no service\nshould be held. \"My very heart and flesh cried out for the courts of\nGod's house,\" she wrote. Some of the crew comforted her by saying that\nthere was always a Sabbath in Calabar.\n\nIt was not until the headland of Cape Verde was sighted and passed, and\nshe saw in succession stretches of green banks, white sands upon which\nthe surf beat, and long grey levels of mangrove, that she began to\nrealise the presence of Africa. From the shore came hot whiffs of that\nindescribable smell so subtly suggestive of a tropical land; while the\nnames of the districts--the Ivory Coast, the Gold Coast, the Slave\nCoast--conjured up the old days of adventure, blood-red with deeds of\ncruelty and shame. This Gulf of Guinea was the heart of the slave\ntrade: more vessels loaded up here with their black cargo than at any\nother port of the continent, and the Bight of Biafra, on which Calabar\nis situated, was ever the busiest spot. Mangrove forests, unequalled\nanywhere for immensity and gloom, fringe the entire sweep of the Gulf.\nRooted in slime, malodorous and malarious, they form a putrescent\nparadise for all manner of loathly creatures.\n\nOut of the blue waters of the Atlantic the _Ethiopia_ ran, on Saturday,\nSeptember 11, into the mud-coloured estuary of the Cross and Calabar\nRivers. On the left lay the flat delta of the Niger, ahead stretched\nthe landscape of mangrove as far as the eye could range; to the south-\neast rose the vast bulk of the Cameroon Mountains. With what interest\nMary gazed on the scene one can imagine. Somewhere at the back of these\nswamps was the spot where she was to settle and work. That it was near\nthe coast she knew, for all that more distant land was unexplored and\nunknown: most of what was within sight, indeed, was still outside the\npale of civilisation; through the bush and along the creeks and lagoons\nmoved nude people, most of whom had never seen a white face. It might\nwell seem an amazing thing to her, in view of the fact that there had\nbeen commerce with the coast for centuries. Vessels had plied to it for\nslaves, spices, gold dust, ivory, and palm oil; traders mingled with\nthe people, and spoke their tongue; and yet it remained a land of\nmystery.\n\nThere were many reasons for this. The country was owned by no European\nPower. Britain regarded it--somewhat unwillingly at first--as a sphere\nof influence, but had no footing in it, and no control over the people.\nThese were divided into many tribes and sections of tribes, each\nspeaking a different tongue, and each perpetually at war with its\nneighbour. The necessities of trade fostered a certain intercourse;\nthere was neutral ground where transactions took place, and products\nfor the traders filtered down to the people at the coast who acted as\nmiddlemen. These, for obvious reasons, objected to the white men going\ninland--they would get into touch with the tribes, their authority\nwould be undermined and their business ruined, and as they controlled\nthe avenues of approach and were masters in their own house their veto\ncould not be disregarded. In any case a journey up-river was full of\nperil. Every bend brought one to a new tribe, alert, suspicious,\nthreatening. For Europeans it was a foodless country, in which they had\nto face hunger, fever, and death. Even the missionaries had only been\nfeeling their way very slowly: they explored and planted out stations\nhere and there, as permission was obtained from the chiefs, but their\nmain efforts were directed to the task of establishing a strong base at\nthe coast.\n\nThe estuary is about twelve miles in breadth, its banks are lined by\nmangrove, and here and there its surface is broken by islands. From\nthese, as the steamer passed, parrots flew in flocks. From the\nsandbanks and mudbanks alligators slid into the water with a splash.\nOccasionally a shrimp-fisher in his canoe was seen. Higher up were the\nruins of the barracoons, where the slaves were penned while waiting for\nshipment. Some fifty miles from the sea the steamer swung round to the\neast and entered the Calabar River; the swamps gave place to clay\ncliffs thick with undergrowth and trees, and far ahead a cluster of\nhouses came into view--this, Mary knew, was Old Town. Then the hulks in\nthe stream, used as stores and homes by the traders, appeared, and the\nsteamer anchored opposite Duke Town. It lay on the right among swamps\nin a receding hollow of the cliff: a collection of mud-dwellings\nthatched with palm leaf, slovenly and sordid, and broiling in the hot\nrays of a brilliant sun.\n\nIt was the scene she had often endeavoured to picture in her mind.\nThere was the hill where into the bush the dead bodies of natives used\nto be cast to become the food of wild beasts, now crowned with the\nMission buildings. What memories had already gathered about these! What\nexperiences lay behind the men and women who lived there! What a land\nwas this she had chosen to make her dwelling-place--a land formless,\nmysterious, terrible, ruled by witchcraft and the terrorism of secret\nsocieties; where the skull was worshipped and blood-sacrifices were\noffered to jujus; where guilt was decided by ordeal of poison and\nboiling oil; where scores of people were murdered when a chief died,\nand his wives decked themselves in finery and were strangled to keep\nhim company in the spirit-land; where men and women were bound and left\nto perish by the water-side to placate the god of shrimps; where the\nalligators were satiated with feeding on human flesh; where twins were\ndone to death, and the mother banished to the bush; where semi-\nnakedness was compulsory, and girls were sent to farms to be fattened\nfor marriage. A land, also, of disease and fever and white graves.\n\nThere, too, lay her own future, as dark and unknown as the land, full\nof hard work, she knew, full, it might be of danger and trial and\nsorrow....\n\nBut the boats of the traders and the missionaries came off, the canoes\nof the natives swarmed around, the whole town seemed to be on the\nwater. With eyes that were bright and expectant Mary stepped from the\nMission boat and set foot on African soil.\n\n\n\n\n                         II. FIRST IMPRESSIONS\n\nThe young missionary-teacher was delighted with the novelty and wonders\nof her surroundings. She revelled in the sunshine, the warmth, the\nluxuriant beauty, and began to doubt whether the climate was so deadly\nafter all: some of the missionaries told her that much of the illness\nwas due to the lack of proper care, and there was even one who said he\npreferred Calabar to Scotland.\n\nShe was impressed with the Mission. The organisation of church and\nschool, the regular routine of life, the large attendance at the\nservices, the demeanour of the Christians, the quiet and persistent\naggressive work going on, satisfied her sense of the fitness of things\nand made her glad and hopeful. To hear the chime of Sabbath bells; to\nlisten to the natives singing, in their own tongue, the hymns\nassociated with her home life, the Sabbath school and the social\nmeeting; and to watch one of them give an address with eloquence and\npower, was a revelation. She went to a congregational meeting at Creek\nTown and heard King Eyo Honesty VII. speaking, and so many were\npresent, and the feeling was so hearty and united that it might have\nserved as a model for the home churches. She was attracted by the King;\na sincere kindly Christian man, she found him to be. When she told him\nthat her mother was much interested in him, he was so pleased that he\nwrote Mrs. Slessor, and the two corresponded--he a negro King in Africa\nand she an obscure woman in Scotland, drawn to each other across 4000\nmiles of sea by the influence of the Gospel.\n\nIt was true that the results of thirty years' work in Calabar did not\nseem large. The number of members in all the congregations was 174,\nthough the attendances at the services each Sunday was over a thousand.\nThe staff, however, had never been very large; of Europeans at this\ntime there were four ordained missionaries, four men teachers, and four\nwomen teachers, and of natives one ordained missionary and eighteen\nagents; and efforts were confined to Duke Town, Old Town, Creek Town,\nIkunetu, and Ikorofiong--all on the banks of the rivers or creeks--with\nseveral out-stations.\n\nHer work at first was simple: it was to teach in the day-school on\nMission Hill and visit in the yards, both on week-days and Sundays. Not\nuntil the strangeness of things had worn off a little did she begin to\nsee below the surface and discover the difficulties of the situation.\nWhat assisted the process was a tour of the stations, which it was\nthought well she should make in order to become acquainted with the\nconditions. In the out-districts she came into contact with the raw\nheathen, and felt herself down at the very foundations of humanity.\nMost of the journeying was through the bush: there were long and\nfatiguing marches, and much climbing and jumping and wading to do, in\nwhich she had the help of three Kroo boys, but being active in body and\nbuoyant in spirit, she enjoyed it thoroughly. A white \"Ma\" was so\ncurious a sight in some of the districts that the children would run\naway, screaming with fright, and the women would crowd round her\ntalking, gesticulating, and fingering, so that the chiefs had to drive\nthem off with a whip. She was a little startled by these\ndemonstrations, but was told the people were merely wishing to make\nfriends with her, and she soon overcame her nervousness.\n\nHer first meeting was held while she was with one of the native agents,\nJohn Baillie, and took place in the shade of a large tree beside a\ndevil-house built for a dead man's spirit, and stocked with food. After\nthe agent had spoken in Efik he turned to her and said, \"Have you\nanything to say to them?\" She looked at the dark throng, degraded,\nignorant, superstitious. All eyes were fixed on her. For once she found\nit difficult to speak. Asking Mr. Baillie to read John v. 1-24, she\ntried to arrange her thoughts, but seemed to grow more helpless. When\nshe began, the words came, and very simply, very earnestly--the agent\ninterpreting--she spoke of their need of healing and saving, of which\nthey must be conscious through their dissatisfaction with this life,\nthe promptings of their higher natures, the experience of suffering and\nsorrow, and the dark future beyond death, and, asking the question,\n\"Wilt thou be made whole?\" pointed the way to peace.\n\nAs she observed and assimilated, she came to hold a clearer view of the\npeople and the problems confronting the missionaries. She realised that\nthe raw negroes, though savage enough, were not destitute of religious\nbeliefs: their \"theology,\" indeed, seemed somewhat too complicated for\ncomprehension. Nor were their lives unregulated by principles and laws;\nthey were ruled by canons and conventions as powerful as those of\nEurope, as merciless as the caste code of India; their social life was\nrooted in a tangle of relationships and customs as intricate as any in\nthe world. The basis of the community was the House, at the head of\nwhich was a Master or Chief, independent and autocratic within his own\nlimited domain, which consisted merely of a cluster of mud-huts in the\nbush. In this compound or yard, or \"town\" as it was sometimes called,\nlived connected families. Each chief had numerous wives and slaves,\nover whom he exercised absolute control. The slaves enjoyed\nconsiderable freedom, many occupying good positions and paying tribute,\nbut they could be sold or killed at the will of their master. All\nbelonging to a House were under its protection, and once outside that\nprotection they were pariahs, subject to no law, and at the mercy of\nEgbo. This secret society was composed of select and graded classes\ninitiated according to certain rites. Its agents were Egbo-runners,\nsupposed to represent a supernatural being in the bush, who came\nsuddenly out, masked and dressed in fantastic garb, and with a long\nwhip rushed about and committed excesses. At these times all women were\nobliged to hide, for if found they would be flogged and stripped of\ntheir clothing. Egbo, however, had a certain power for good, and was\noften evoked in aid of law and order. Naturally it was the divorcing of\nsuperfluous wives, and the freeing of slaves that formed the greatest\ndifficulty for the missionaries--it meant nothing less than breaking up\na social system developed and fortified by long centuries of custom.\nThus early Miss Slessor came to see that it was the duty of the\nmissionary to bring about a new set of conditions in which it would be\npossible for the converts to live, and the thought influenced her whole\nafter-career.\n\nThe district of Calabar afforded a striking object-lesson of what could\nbe achieved. There was no central native government, and the British\nconsular jurisdiction was of the most shadowy character. So far there\nhad been but the quiet pressure of a moral and spiritual agency at\nwork, but under its influence the people had become habituated to the\norderly ways of civilisation, and were living in peace and amity. It\nwas admitted by the officials that the agreements which they concluded\nwith the chiefs had only been rendered possible by the teaching of the\nmissionaries: and later it was largely upon the same sure and solid\nfoundations that British authority was to build.\n\nSo, she realised, it was not a case where one could say, \"Let there be\nlight,\" and light would shine. The work of the Mission was like\nbuilding a lighthouse stone by stone, layer by layer, with infinite\ntoil and infinite patience. Yet she often found it hard to restrain her\neagerness. \"It is difficult to wait,\" she said. One text, however, kept\nrepeating itself--\"Learn of Me.\" \"Christ never was in a hurry,\" she\nwrote. \"There was no rushing forward, no anticipating, no fretting over\nwhat might be, Every day's duties were done as every day brought them,\nand the rest was left with God. 'He that believeth shall not make\nhaste.'\" And in that spirit she worked.\n\nHer better knowledge of the position made her resolve to acquire a\nthorough mastery of the language in order to enter completely into the\nlife and thought of the natives. Interpretation she had already found\nto be untrustworthy, and she was told the tale of a native who,\ntranslating an address on the rich man and Lazarus, remarked, in an\naside to the audience, that for himself he would prefer to be the rich\nman! Efik was the tongue of Calabar and of trade and commerce, and was\nunderstood more or less over a wide tract of country. She learnt it by\near, and from the people, rather than from the book, and soon picked up\nenough to take a larger share in the varied work of the Mission.\n\nLife had a piquancy in these days when she lived with the Andersons on\nMission Hill. \"Daddy\" Anderson was a veteran of the Mission, but it was\n\"Mammy\" Anderson with whom she came into closest relation. Of strong\nindividuality, she ruled the town from the Mission House, and the\nchiefs were fain to do her bidding. At first Mary stood somewhat in awe\nof her. One of the duties assigned to her was to ring, before dawn, the\nfirst bell for the day to call the faithful to morning prayer. There\nwere no alarm clocks then, and occasionally she overslept, and the\nrebuke she received from Mrs. Anderson made her cheeks burn. Sometimes\nshe would wake with a start to find her room flooded with light. Half-\ndazed with sleep and shamed at her remissness she would hurry out to\nring the bell, only to discover that it was not dawn but the light of\nthe moon that was making the world so bright.\n\nAt one time when doing duty in Old Town she had to walk along a narrow\nnative track through the bush. To let off the high spirits that had\nbeen bottled up in the Mission House she would climb any tree that took\nher fancy. She affirmed that she had climbed every tree worthy of the\nname between Duke Town and Old Town. Sometimes her fun made her late\nfor meals, and Mrs. Anderson would warn her that if she offended again\nshe would go without food. She did offend, and then Mr. Anderson would\nsmuggle biscuits and bananas to her, with, she was confident, the\nconnivance of his wife. She had a warm affection for all the members of\nthe Mission staff, but for none more than for \"Mammy\" Anderson.\n\nThere was one of the humbler inmates of the Mission who watched with\naffectionate interest the young missionary with the soft voice and\ndancing eyes. This was Mrs. Fuller, a coloured woman who had come over\nfrom Jamaica in 1858 with the Rev. Mr. Robb and Mrs. Robb as a nurse,\nand married and remained after they left to be a help and comfort to\nmany. She remembered the day when the slaves were emancipated in the\nWest Indies. A kindly, happy, unselfish soul, she never spoke ill of\nany one. Somebody said to her, \"Mammy, I believe you would say a good\nword about the devil himself.\" \"Well,\" she replied, \"at any rate he\nminds his own business.\" \"Dear old Mammy Fuller,\" Miss Slessor called\nher, little dreaming that Mammy would live to throw flowers into her\ngrave.\n\n\n\n\n                         III. IN THE UNDERWORLD\n\nIn the hush of a beautiful Sunday morning the new missionary begins\nwhat she calls the commonplace work of the day. Looking out some\nillustrated texts she sends a few with a kindly message to all the big\nmen, reminding them that Mr. Anderson expects them at service. Then she\nsets out for the town, and few people escape her keen eye and\npersuasive words.\n\n\"Why are you not going to God's House?\" she asks a man who is sitting\nat the door of his hut. Close by are the remains of a devil-house.\n\nHe rocks himself and replies, \"If your heart was vexed would you go any\nplace? Would you not rather sit at home and nurse your sorrow?\"\n\nMary learns that his only child has died and has been buried in the\nhouse, and according to custom the family is sitting in filth, squalor,\nand drunkenness. She talks to him of the resurrection, and he becomes\ninterested, and takes her into a room where the mother is sitting with\nbowed head over the grave, the form of which can be seen distinctly\nunder a blue cloth that covers the ground. A bunch of dirty muslin is\nhanging from the ceiling. It is a dismal scene. She reads part of John\nxi., and speaks about life and death and the beyond.\n\n\"Well,\" remarked the man, \"if God took the child I don't care so much--\nbut to think an enemy bewitched it!\"\n\nTo the mother she says, \"Do you not find comfort in these words?\"\n\n\"No,\" is the sullen reply. \"Why should I find comfort when my child is\ngone?\"\n\nMary pats her on the head, and tells her how her own mother has found\ncomfort in the thought of the reunion hereafter. The woman is touched\nand weeps: the mother-heart is much the same all the world over.\n\nA few slave-girls are all she finds in the next yard, the other inmates\nhaving gone to work at the farms; but she speaks to them and they\nlisten respectfully. Another yard is crowded with women, some eating,\nsome sleeping, some dressing each other's hair, some lounging half-\nnaked on the ground gossiping--a picture of sheer animalism. Her advent\ncreates a welcome diversion, and they are willing to listen: it helps\nto pass the time. They take her into an inner yard where a fine-looking\nyoung woman is being fattened for her future husband. She flouts the\nmessage, and is spoken to sternly and left half-crestfallen, half-\ndefiant. It is scenes like this which convince Mary that the women are\nthe greatest problem in the Mission Field. She does not wonder that the\nmen are as they are. If they are to be reached more must be done for\nthe women, and a prayer goes up that the Church at home may realise the\nsituation.\n\nFarther on is a heathen house. The master is dead: the mistress is an\nold woman, hardened and repulsive, the embodiment of all that is evil,\nwho is counting coppers in a room filled with bush, skulls, sacrifices,\nand charms. A number of half-starved cowed women and girls covered with\ndirt and sores are quarrelling over a pipe. The shrill voice and long\narms of the mistress settle the matter, and make them fly helter-\nskelter. They call on Mary to speak, and after many interruptions she\nsubdues and controls them, and leaves them, for the moment, impressed.\n\nShe arrives at a district which the lady agents have long worked. The\nwomen are cleanly, pleasant, and industrious, but polished hypocrites,\nalways ready to protest with smooth tongue and honeyed words that they\nare eager to be \"god-women,\" but never taking the first step forwards.\nMary, who is learning to be sarcastic, on occasion, gives them a bit of\nher mind and goes away heart-sick. But she is cheered at the next yard,\nwhere she has a large and attentive audience.\n\nIn the poorest part she comes upon a group of men selling rum. At the\nsight of the \"white Ma\" they put the stuff away and beg her to stay.\nThey are quiet until she denounces the sale of the liquor; then one\ninterrupts:\n\n\"What for white man bring them rum suppose them rum no be good? He be\ngod-man bring the rum--then what for god-man talk so?\"\n\nWhat can she answer?\n\nIt is a vile fluid this trade spirit, yet the country is deluged with\nit, and it leaves behind it disaster and demoralisation and ruined\nhomes. Mary feels bitter against the civilised countries that seek\nprofit from the moral devastation of humanity.\n\nShe cannot answer the man.\n\nA husband brings his woebegone wife who has lost five children. Can\n\"Ma\" not give her some medicine? She again speaks of the resurrection.\nA crowd gathers and listens breathlessly. When she says that even the\ntwin-children are safe with God, and that they will yet confront their\nmurderers, the people start, shrug their shoulders, and with looks of\nterror slink one by one away.\n\nShe visits many of the hovels, which are little better than ruins.\nPools of filth send out pestilential odours. There is starvation in\nevery pinched face and misery in every sunken eye. Covered with sores\nthe inmates lie huddled together and clamour only for food. One old\nwoman says:\n\n\"I have prayed and prayed till there is no breath left in me. God does\nnot answer. He does not care.\"\n\n\"To whom do you pray?\"\n\n\"I don't know, but I call Him God. I tell Him I have no friend. I say\n'You see me. I am sick. I am hungry. I am good. I don't steal. I don't\nkeep bread from any one. I don't kill. I don't speak with my mouth when\nmy heart is far away. Have mercy upon me.'\"\n\nMary talks to her lovingly and earnestly, and when she leaves, the\nheart of the wretched woman is quietened and grateful.\n\nIt is afternoon, and time for the Efik service at four o'clock, and\nMary, a little tired with the heat and the strain, turns and makes for\nMission Hill.\n\n\n\n\n                          IV. THE PULL OF HOME\n\nIt was not long before she had to revise her opinion of the climate.\nNature was beautiful, but beneath its fair appearance lurked influences\nthat were cruel and pitiless. \"Calabar needs a brave heart and a stout\nbody,\" she wrote; \"not that I have very much of the former, but I have\nfelt the need for it often when sick and lonely.\" Both the dry and\nrainy seasons had their drawbacks, but she especially disliked the\nformer-which lasted from December to March-because of the \"smokes\" or\nharmattan, a haze composed of fine dust blown from the great African\ndesert, that withered her up and sucked out all the energy she\npossessed. She was frequently attacked by fever, and laid aside, and on\none occasion was at the point of death. But she never lost her\nconfidence in God. Once she thought she had. It was during an illness\nwhen she was only semi-conscious, but on recovering the clearness of\nher mind she realised that she had given herself into His keeping and\nneed not fear, and a sense of comfort and peace stole over her. So many\nattacks weakened her constitution and made her think oftener of home.\nShe began to have a longing to look again upon loved faces, to have\ngrey skies overhead, and to feel the tang of the clean cool air on her\ncheek, \"I want my home and my mother,\" she confessed. It was home-\nsickness, and there is only one cure for that. It comes, however, to\npass. It is not so overpowering after the first home-going, and it\ngrows less importunate after each visit. One finds after a short\nabsence that things in the old environment are, somehow, not the same;\nthat there has ceased to be a niche which one can fill; that one has a\nfresh point of view; and as time goes on and the roots of life go\ndeeper into the soil of the new country, the realisation comes that it\nis in the homeland where one is homeless, and in the land of exile\nwhere one is at home. But at first the pull of the old associations is\nirresistible; and so when her furlough was due, Mary flew to Scotland\nas a wandered bird flies wing-weary back to its nest.\n\nShe left Calabar in June 1879 and proceeded straight to Dundee. During\nher stay she removed her mother and sisters to Downfield, a village on\nthe outskirts of the city, and was happy in the knowledge that all was\nwell with them. Friends who listened to her graphic account of Calabar\ntell that even then she spoke of her desire to go up country into the\nunworked fields, and especially to the Okoyong district, but \"Daddy\"\nAnderson was opposed to the idea. Before returning, she wrote the\nForeign Mission Committee and begged to be sent to a station other than\nDuke Town, though she loyally added that she would do whatever was\nthought best. She sailed with the Rev. Hugh Goldie, one of the veteran\npioneers of the Mission, and Mrs. Goldie, and on arrival at Calabar, in\nOctober 1880, found to her joy that she was to be in charge of Old\nTown, and that she was a real missionary at last.\n\n\n\n\n                        V. AT THE SEAT OF SATAN\n\nThe first sight she saw on entering her new sphere was a human skull\nhung on a pole at the entrance to the town. In Old Town and the smaller\nstations of Qua, Akim, and Ikot Ansa, lying back in the tribal district\nof Ekoi, the people were amongst the most degraded in Calabar. It was a\ndifficult field, but she entered upon it with zest. Although under the\nsupervision of Duke Town, she was practically her own mistress, and\ncould carry out her own ideas and methods. This was important for her,\nfor, to her chagrin, she had found that boarding was expensive in\nCalabar, and as she had to leave a large portion of her salary at home\nfor the support of her mother and sisters, she could not afford to live\nas the other lady agents did. She had to economise in every direction,\nand took to subsisting wholly on native food. It was in this way she\nacquired those simple, Spartan-like habits which accompanied her\nthrough life. Her colleagues attributed her desire for isolation and\nnative ways to natural inclination, not dreaming that they were a\nmatter of compulsion, for she was too loyal to her home and too proud\nof spirit to reveal the reason for her action.\n\nOne drawback of the situation was the dilapidated state of the house.\nIt was built of wattle and mud, had a mat roof and a whitewashed\ninterior. She did not, however, mind its condition; she was so absorbed\nin the work that personal comfort was a matter of indifference to her.\nHer household consisted of a young woman and several boys and girls,\nwith whose training she took endless pains, and who helped her and\naccompanied her to her meetings. School work made large drafts on her\ntime at Old Town, Qua, and Akim. Young and old came as scholars. At Qua\nthe chief man of the place after the king sat on a bench with little\nchildren, and along with them repeated the Sunday School lessons. He\nset them an example, for he was never absent.\n\nBut to preach the love of Christ was her passion. With every visitor\nwho called to give compliments, with every passer-by who came out of\ncuriosity to see what the white woman and her house were like, with all\nwho brought a dispute to settle, she had talk about the Saviour of the\nworld. Sunday was a day of special effort in this direction. She would\nset out early for Qua, where two boys carrying a bell slung on a pole\nsummoned the people to service. One of the chiefs would fix the benches\nand arrange the audience, which usually numbered from 80 to 100, She\nwould go on to Akim or Ikot Ansa, where a similar meeting was held. On\nthe way she would visit sick folk, or call in at farms, have friendly\nconversation with master and dependants, and give a brief address and\nprayer. By mid-day she would be back at Old Town, where she conducted a\nlarge Sunday School. In the evening a regular church service was held,\nattended by almost the entire community. This, to her, was the meeting\nof the week. It took place in the yard of the chief. At one side stood\na table, covered with a white cloth, on which were a primitive lamp and\na Bible. The darkness, the rows of dusky faces just revealed by the\nflickering light, the strained attention, the visible emotion made up a\nstrange picture. At the end came hearty \"good-nights,\" and she would be\nescorted home by a procession of lantern-bearers.\n\nSuch service, incessant and loving, began to tell. The behaviour of the\npeople improved; the god of the town was banished; the chiefs went the\nlength of saying that their laws and customs were clearly at variance\nwith God's fashions. Mr. Anderson reported to the Church at home that\nshe was \"doing nobly.\" When two deputies went out and inspected the\nMission in 1881-82, they were much impressed by her energy and\ndevotion. \"Her labours are manifold,\" they stated, \"but she sustains\nthem cheerfully--she enjoys the unreserved friendship and confidence of\nthe people, and has much influence over them.\" This they attributed\npartly to the singular ease with which she spoke the language. Learning\nthat she preferred her present manner of life to being associated with\nanother white person--they were unaware, like others, of the real\nreason which governed her--they recommended that she should be allowed\nto continue her solitary course.\n\nIt was at Old Town that she came first into close contact with the more\nsinister aspects of mission work, and obtained that training and\nexperience in dealing with the natives and native problems which led\nher into the larger responsibilities of the future. Despite the\ninfluence of the missionaries and the British Consul, many of the worst\nheathen iniquities were being practised. A short time previously the\nConsul had made a strong effort to get the chiefs to enforce the laws\nregarding twin-murder, human sacrifice, the stripping and flogging of\nwomen by Egbo-runners, and other offences, and an agreement had been\nreached; but no treaty, no Egbo proclamation could root out the customs\nof centuries, and they continued to be followed, in secret in the towns\nand openly in the country districts.\n\nThe evil of twin-murder had a terrible fascination for her. A woman who\ngave birth to twins was regarded with horror. The belief was that the\nfather of one of the infants was an evil spirit, and that the mother\nhad been guilty of a great sin; one at least of the children was\nbelieved to be a monster, and as they were never seen by outsiders or\nallowed to live, no one could disprove the fact. They were seized,\ntheir backs were broken, and they were crushed into a calabash or\nwater-pot and taken out--not by the doorway, but by a hole broken in\nthe back wall, which was at once built up--and thrown into the bush,\nwhere they were left to be eaten by insects and wild beasts. Sometimes\nthey would be placed alive into the pots. As for the mother, she was\ndriven outside the bounds of decent society and compelled to live alone\nin the bush. In such circumstances there was only one thing for the\nmissionaries to do. As soon as twins were born they sought to obtain\npossession of them, and gave them the security and care of the Mission\nHouse. Some of the Mission compounds were alive with babies. It was no\nuse taking the mother along with them. She believed she must be\naccursed, for otherwise she would never be in such a position. First\none and then the other child would die, and she would make her escape\nand fly to the bush.\n\nMary realised that the system was the outcome of superstition and fear,\nand she could even see how, from the native point of view, it was\nessential for the safety of the House, but her heart was hot against\nit; nothing, indeed, roused her so fiercely as the senseless cruelty of\nputting these innocent babes to death, and she joined in the campaign\nwith fearless energy.\n\nShe could also understand why the natives threw away infants whose\nslave-mother died. No slave had time to bring up another woman's child.\nIf she did undertake the task, it would only be hers during childhood;\nafter that it became the property of the master. The chances of a\nslave-child surviving were not good enough for a free woman to try the\nexperiment, and as life in any case was of little value, it was\nconsidered best that the infant should be put out of the way.\n\nThe need of special service in these directions made her suggest to the\nForeign Mission Committee that one of the woman agents should be set\napart to take care of the children that were rescued. It was\nimpossible, she said, for one to do school or other work, and attend to\nthem as well. \"If such a crowd of twins should come to her as I have to\nmanage, she would require to devote her whole time to them.\" More and\nmore also she was convinced of the necessity of women's work among the\nwomen in the farming districts, and she pressed the matter upon the\nCommittee. She was in line with the old chief who remarked that \"them\nwomen be the best man for the Mission.\"\n\nAnother evil which violated her sense of justice and right, and against\nwhich she took up arms, was the trade attitude of the Calabar people.\nAlthough they had settled on the coast only by grace of the Ekois, they\nendeavoured to monopolise all dealings with the Europeans and prevent\nthe inland tribes from doing business direct with the factories. Often\nthe up-river men would make their way down stealthily, but if caught\nthey were slain or mutilated, and a bitter vendetta would ensue. She\nrecognised that it would only be by the tribes coming to know and\nrespect each other, and by the adoption of unrestricted trade with the\nstores that the full reward of industry could be secured. She\naccordingly took up the cause of the inland tribes. When Efik was at\nwar with Qua, sentries were posted at all the paths to the factories,\nbut the people came to her by night, and she would lead them down the\ntrack running through the Mission property. At the factory next to the\nMission beach they would deliver their palm oil or kernels, and take\nback the goods for which they had bartered them. In this way she helped\nto open up the country. It was not, perhaps, mission work in the\nordinary sense any more than much of Dr. Livingstone's work was\nmissionary work, but it was an effort to break down the conditions that\nperpetuated wrong and dispeace, and to introduce the forces of\nrighteousness and goodwill. In all this work she had the sympathy of\nthe traders, who showed her much kindness. She was a missionary after\ntheir own heart.\n\n\n\n\n                        VI. IN ELEPHANT COUNTRY\n\nThe spirit of the pioneer would not allow her to be content with the\nroutine of village work. She began to go afield, and made trips of\nexploration along the river. The people found her different from other\nmissionaries; she would enter their townships as one of themselves,\nshow them in a moment that she was mistress of their thought and ways,\nand get right into their confidence. Always carrying medicine, she\nattended the sick, and so many maimed and diseased crowded to her that\noften she would lose the tide twice over. In her opinion no preaching\nsurpassed these patient, intimate interviews on the banks of the river\nand by the wayside, when she listened to tales of suffering and sorrow\nand gave sympathy and practical help. Sometimes she remained away for\nnights at a time, and on these occasions her only accommodation was a\nmud hut and her only bed a bundle of filthy rags.\n\nA larger venture was made at the instance of a chief named Okon, a\npolitical refugee whom she knew. He had settled at a spot on the\nwestern bank of the estuary, then called Ibaka, now James Town, and had\nlong urged her to pay the place a visit. It was only some thirty miles\naway, but thirty miles to the African is more than two hundred to a\nEuropean, and Old Town was in a state of excitement for days before she\nleft. Nine A.M. was the hour fixed for departure, but Mary knew local\nways, and forenoon found her calmly cooking the dinner. The house was\ncrowded with visitors begging her to be careful, and threatening\nvengeance if anything happened to their \"Ma.\" At 6 P.M. came word that\nall was ready, and, followed by a retinue comprising half the\npopulation, she made her way to the beach. Women who were not\nordinarily permitted to be viewed by the public eye waited at every\nyard to embrace hers and to charge all concerned to look well alter her\ncomfort.\n\nA State canoe sent by the King lay at the water-side. It had been\nrepainted for the occasion in the gayest of colours, while thoughtful\nhands had erected a little arch of matting to seclude her from the\npaddlers and afford protection from the dew, and had arranged some\nrice-bags as a couch. The pathos of the tribute touched her, and with a\nsmile and a word of thanks she stepped into her place and settled the\nfour house-children about the feet of the paddlers. More hours were\nlost in one way or another. Darkness fell, and only the red gleam of\nthe torches lit up the scene. Alligators and snakes haunted the spot,\nbut she had no fear so long as the clamour of the crowd continued.\n\nAt last, \"Sio ude\u00f1!\" The command was answered by the \"dip-dip\" of\nthirty-three paddles, and the canoe glided into the middle of the river\nand sped onwards. In her crib she tried to read by the light of a\ncandle, while the paddlers extemporised songs in her honour, assigning\nto her all the virtues under the sun--\n\n          _Ma, our beautiful, beloved mother, is on board,\n           Ho! Ho! Ho_!\n\nThe gentle movement, the monotonous \"tom-tom-tum\" of the drummer, and\nthe voice of the steersman, became mingled in a dreamy jumble, and she\nslept through the night as soundly as on a bed of down. Ten hours'\npaddling brought the craft to its destination, and at dawn she was\ncarried ashore over golden sand and under great trees, and deposited in\nthe chief's compound amongst goats, dogs, and fowls. She and the\nchildren were given the master's room--which always opens out into the\nwomen's yard--and as it possessed no door a piece of calico was hung up\nas a screen. The days were tolerable, but the nights were such as even\nshe, inured to African conditions, found almost unbearable. It was the\netiquette of the country that all the wives should sit as close to the\nwhite woman as was compatible with her idea of comfort, and as the aim\nof each was to be fatter than the other, and they all perspired freely,\nand there was no ventilation, it required all her courage to outlast\nthe ordeal. Lizards, too, played among the matting of the roof, and\nsent down showers of dust, while rats performed hop, skip, and jump\nover the sleepers.\n\nCrowds began to pour in from a wide area. Many of the people had never\nlooked upon a white woman, and she had to submit to being handled and\nexamined in order to prove that she was flesh and blood like\nthemselves. Doubtful men and women were forcibly dragged to her by\nlaughing companions and made to touch her skin. At meal times she was\non exhibition to a favoured few, who watched how she ate and drank, and\nthen described the operations to the others outside.\n\nDay by day she prescribed and bandaged, cut out garments, superintended\nwashing, and initiated women into the secrets of starching and ironing.\nDay by day she held a morning and evening service, and it was with\ndifficulty that she prevented the one from merging into the other. On\nSabbath the yard became strangely quiet: all connected with it were\nclothed and clean, and in a corner stood a table with a white cloth and\nupon it a Bible and hymn-book. As the fierce-looking, noisy men from a\ndistance entered they stopped involuntarily and a hush fell upon them.\nMany heard the story of Christ for the first time, and never had she a\nmore appreciative audience. In the evening the throng was so great that\nher voice could barely reach them all, and at the end they came up to\nher and with deep feeling wished her good-night and then vanished\nquietly into the darkness.\n\nThe people would not allow her to walk out much on account of the\npresence of wild beasts. Elephants were numerous--it was because of the\ndestruction they had wrought on the farms that fishing had become the\nmain support of the township. Early one morning a commotion broke out:\na boa constrictor had been seen during the night, and bands of men\narmed with clubs, cutlasses, and muskets set off, yelling, to hunt the\nmonster. Whenever she moved out she was followed by all the men, women,\nand children. On every side she saw skulls, rudely carved images,\npeace-offerings of food to hungry spirits, and other evidences of\ndebased fetishism, while cases of witchcraft and poisoning were\nfrequent.\n\nOne day she noticed a tornado brewing on the Cameroon heights, and kept\nindoors. While sitting sewing the storm burst. The wind seized the\nvillage, lifting fences, canoes, trees, and buildings; lightning played\nand crackled about the hut; the thunder pealed overhead; and rain fell\nin floods. Then a column of flame leapt from the sky to earth, and a\nterrific crash deafened the cowering people. Accustomed as she was to\ntornadoes Mary was afraid. The slaves came rushing into the yard,\nshrieking, and at the same moment the roof of her hut was swept away,\nand she was beaten to the ground by the violence of the rain. In the\nlight of the vivid flashes she groped her way through the water, now up\nto her ankles, and from her boxes obtained all the wraps she possessed.\nTo keep up the spirits of the children she started a hymn, \"Oh, come\nlet us sing.\" Amidst the roar of the elements they caught the tune, and\ngradually their terror was subdued. When the torrent ceased she was in\na high fever. She dosed herself with quinine, and as the shadow of\ndeath is never very far away in Africa she made all arrangements in\ncase the end should come. But her temperature fell, and in two days she\nwas herself again.\n\nThere was a morning when her greetings were responded to with such\ngravity that she knew something serious had occurred. During the night\ntwo of the young wives of a chief had broken the strictest law in Efik,\nhad left the women's yard and entered one where a boy was sleeping, and\nas nothing can be hidden in a slave community their husband knew at\nonce. The culprits were called out, and with them two other girls, who\nwere aware of the escapade, but did not tell. The chief, and the men of\nposition in his compound and district, sat in judgment upon them, and\ndecided that each must receive one hundred stripes.\n\nMary sought out Okon and talked the matter over. \"Ma,\" he said, \"it be\nproper big palaver, but if you say we must not flog we must listen to\nyou as our mother and our guest. But they will say that God's word be\nno good if it destroy the power of the law to punish evildoers.\"\n\nHe agreed, however, to delay the punishment, and to bring the judges\nand the people together in a palaver at mid-day. When all were\nassembled she addressed the girls:\n\n\"You have brought much shame on us by your folly and by abusing your\nmaster's confidence while the yard is in our possession. Though God's\nword teaches men to be merciful, it does not countenance or pass over\nsin, and I cannot shelter you from punishment. You have knowingly and\ndeliberately brought it on yourselves. Ask God to keep you in the\nfuture so that your conduct may not be a reproach to yourselves and the\nword of God which you know.\"\n\nMany were the grunts of satisfaction from the people, and the faces of\nthe big men cleared as they heard their verdict being endorsed, while\ndarker and more defiant grew the looks of the girls.\n\nWith a swift movement she turned to the gathering:\n\n\"Ay, but you are really to blame. It is your system of polygamy which\nis a disgrace to you and a cruel injustice to these helpless women.\nGirls like these, sixteen years old, are not beyond the age of fun and\nfrolic. To confine them as you do is a shame and a blot on your\nmanhood: obedience such as you command is not worth the having.\"\n\nFrowns greeted this denunciation, and the old men muttered:\n\n\"When the punishment is severe, neither slave nor wife dare disobey:\nthe old fashions are better than the new.\"\n\nMuch heated discussion followed, but at last she succeeded in getting\nthe punishment reduced to the infliction of ten stripes and nothing\nmore. She had gone as far as she dared. Under ordinary circumstances\nsalt would have been rubbed into the wounds, and mutilation or\ndismemberment would have followed. She thanked the men, enjoined the\nwives and slaves to show their gratitude by a willing and true service,\nand went to prepare alleviations for the victims.\n\nThrough the shouting and laughing of the operators and onlookers she\nheard piercing screams, as strong arms plied the alligator hide, and\none by one the girls came running into her, bleeding and quivering in\nthe agony of pain. By and by the opiate did its work and all sank into\nuneasy slumber.\n\nFourteen days went by, and it was time for the return journey. The same\nnoise and excitement and delay occurred, and it was afternoon ere the\ncanoe left the beach. The evening meal, a mess of yam and herbs, cooked\nin palm oil, which had been carried on board smoking hot from the fire\nand was served in the pot, had scarcely been disposed of when the\nsplendour of the sunset and afterglow was swept aside by a mass of\nangry cloud, and the moaning of the wind fell threateningly on the ear.\n\"A stormy night ahead,\" said Mary apprehensively to Okon, who gave a\nlong look upward and steered for the lee of an island. The sky\nblackened, thunder growled, and the water began to lift. The first rush\nof wind gripped the canoe and whirled it round, while the crew, hissing\nthrough their set teeth, pulled their hardest. In vain. They got out of\nhand, and there was uproar and craven fear. Sharing in the panic the\nmaster was powerless. At the sight of others in peril Mary threw aside\nher own nervousness and anxiety and took command. In a few moments\norder was restored and the boat was brought close to the tangle of\nbush, and the men, springing up like monkeys into the branches, held on\nto the canoe, which was now being dashed up and down like a straw. Mary\nsat with the water up to her knees, the children lashed to her by a\nwaterproof, their heads hidden in her lap. Lightning, thunder, rain,\nand wave combined to make one of the grandest displays of the earth's\nforces she had ever witnessed.\n\nAs quickly as it came the storm passed, and to the strains of a hymn\nwhich she started the journey was resumed. She was shaking with ague,\nand in order to put some heat into her the chief came and sat down on\none side, while his big wife sat on the other. As her temperature rose,\nthe paddlers grew alarmed, and pulled as they had never done in their\nlives. Dawn was stealing over the land when Old Town was reached, and\nas \"Ma\" was hardly a fit sight for critical eyes, she was carried up by\na bush path to the Mission House.\n\nIll as she was, her first care was to make a fire to obtain hot tea for\nthe children and to tuck them away comfortably for the night. Then she\ntottered to her bed, to rise some days later, a wreck of her former\nself, but smiling and cheerful as usual....\n\nTowards the close of the year 1882 a tornado swept over Old Town and\ndamaged the house to such an extent that she had to make a hasty escape\nand take refuge in a factory. The Presbytery brought her to Duke Town,\nbut she became so ill as a result of her strenuous life and her\nexperience in the storm, that she was ordered home, and left in April\n1888. She was so frail that she was carried on board, and it was\nconsidered doubtful whether she would outlive the voyage. With her was\na girl-twin she had rescued. She had saved both, a boy and girl, but\nwhilst she was absent from the house for a little, the relatives came,\nand, by false pretences, obtained possession of the boy, and killed\nhim. She was determined that the girl should live and grow up to\nconfute their fears, and she would not incur the risk of leaving her\nbehind.\n\n\n\n\n                       VII. WITH BACK TO THE WALL\n\nMany strange experiences came to Mary Slessor in her life, but it is\ndoubtful whether any adventure equalled that which she was now to go\nthrough in the quiet places of home, or whether any period of her\ncareer was so crowded with emotion and called for higher courage and\nresource.\n\nShe remained for the greater part of the time with her mother and\nsisters at Downfield, seeing few people, and nursing the little black\ntwin, who was baptized in Wishart Sunday School, and called Janie,\nafter her sister.\n\nOne of her earliest visits was to her friends the Doigs in the south\nside of Edinburgh, and here again her life touched and influenced\nanother life. There was in connection with Bristo Street Church a girl\nnamed Jessie F. Hogg, who worked in the mission at Cowan's Close where\nthe \"two Marys\" had formerly taught. She had heard much about Mary\nSlessor, and when, one Sunday, a lady friend remarked that she was\ngoing to visit the missionary, Miss Hogg declared she would give much\nto meet her. \"Then come with me,\" said the lady, \"I will leave you at\nthe foot of the stair, and if you are to come up I will call you.\" She\nwas invited up, and was not five minutes in Mary's presence before the\nlatter said, \"And what are you doing at home? What is hindering you\nfrom going to the mission field?\" \"There is nothing to hinder me,\" was\nthe reply. \"Then come: there is a good work waiting for you to do.\"\nMiss Hogg applied to the Foreign Mission Committee and was accepted,\nreceived some medical training, and was in Calabar before Mary herself\nreturned. The anticipations of the latter were fulfilled. For thirteen\nyears, with quiet heroism, Miss Hogg did a great work as one of the\n\"Mothers of the Mission\": her name was a household word, both in\nCalabar and at home: and when, through ill-health, she retired, she\nleft a memory that is still cherished by the natives. There were few of\nthe missionaries then who loved and understood Mary better, and whom\nMary loved so well.\n\nMary's ideas of the qualities needed for work among the ignorant and\ndegraded may be gathered from a letter which she wrote at this time to\na friend in Dundee:\n\nNothing, I believe, will ever touch or raise fallen ones except\nsympathy. They shrink from self-righteousness which would stoop to\nthem, and they hate patronage and pity. Of sympathy and patience they\nstand in need. They also need refinement, for the humble classes\nrespect it, and they are sharper at detecting the want of it than many\nof those above them in the social scale. I am not a believer in the\ncraze for \"ticket-of-leave men\" and \"converted prize-fighters\" to\npreach to the poor and the outcast. I think the more of real refinement\nand beauty and education that enter into all Christian work, the more\nreal success and lasting, wide-reaching results of a Christian and\nelevating nature will follow. Vulgarity and ignorance can never in\nthemselves lay hold on the uneducated classes, or on any class, though\nGod often shows us how He can dispense with man's help altogether. Then\nthere is need for knowledge in such a work, knowledge of the Bible as a\nwhole, not merely of the special passages which are adapted for\nevangelistic services. They know all the set phrases belonging to\nspecial services and open-sir meetings. They want teaching, and they\nwill respect nothing else. I am pained often at home that there is so\nlittle of depth, and of God's word, in the speeches and addresses I\nhear. It seems as if they thought anything will do for children, and\nthat any kind of talk about coming to Christ, and believing on Christ,\nwill feed and nourish immortal souls.\n\nIn January 1884 she informed the Foreign Mission Committee that her\nhealth was re-established and that she was ready to return, and in\naccordance with her own desire it was arranged to make the house\nhabitable at Old Town and send her back there. Meanwhile she had begun\nto address meetings in connection with the missionary organisations of\ncongregations, and at these her simple but vivid style, the human\ninterest of her story, and the living illustration she presented in the\nshape of Janie, made so great an impression that the ladies of Glasgow\nbesought the Committee to retain her for a time in order that she might\ngo through the country and give her account of the work to quiet\ngatherings of women, young and old. The suggestion was acted upon, and\nfor some months she was engaged in itinerating. It was not in the line\nof her inclination. She was very shy, and had a humbling consciousness\nof her defects, and to appear in public was an ordeal. It was often a\nsheer impossibility for her to open her lips when men were present, and\nshe would make it a condition that none should be in her audience. When\nsome distinguished minister or Church leader had been requisitioned to\npreside, a situation was created as embarrassing to him as to her. She\ndid not, however, seem to mind if the disturbing factor was out of\nsight, and the difficulty was usually overcome by placing the chairman\nsomewhere behind. These meetings taxed her strength more than the work\nin Africa, and she began to long for release. In December the Committee\ngave her permission to return, but, as conditions in the field had\nchanged, decided to send her in the meantime to Creek Town to assist\nMiss Johnstone, who was not in good health.\n\nWithin a few weeks a situation developed which altered her plans. The\nsevere weather had told on the delicate constitution of her youngest\nsister Janie, a quiet, timid girl, but bright and intelligent, and\nsomewhat akin to herself in mind and manner; and it was made clear that\nonly a change to a milder climate would save her life. Mary was torn\nwith apprehension. She had a heart that was bigger than her body, and\nshe loved her own people with passionate intensity, and was ready for\nany further sacrifice for their sake. Never bold on her own behalf, she\nwould dare anything for others. Thinking out the problem how best she\ncould reconcile her affection for her sister and her duty to the\nMission, she fell upon a plan which she would have shrunk from\nproposing had she alone been concerned. If she could take the invalid\nout with her to Creek Town, and if they were allowed to dwell by\nthemselves, the life of her sister would not only be prolonged, but she\nherself would be able to continue, by living native fashion, to pay her\nshare of the expenses at home. To the Committee, accordingly, she wrote\nearly in 1885, stating that she would not feel free to go to Creek Town\nunless she were permitted to take her sister with her, and unless she\nwere allowed, instead of boarding with any of the Mission agents, to\nbuild a small mud house for their accommodation.\n\nThe Committee received the proposal with a certain mild astonishment.\nIt had many a problem to solve in its administration of the affairs of\nthe Missions, but its difficulties were always increased when it came\ninto contact with that incalculable element, human nature. It could not\nbe supposed to know all the personal and private circumstances that\ninfluenced the attitude of the missionaries: it could only judge from\nthe surface facts placed before it; and as a rule it decided wisely,\nand was never lacking in the spirit of kindness and generosity. But\neven if the members had known of that fluttering heart in Dundee, they\ncould not, in the best interests of the Mission, have acquiesced in her\nscheme, and it was probably well, also, for Mary that it was gently but\nfirmly put aside.\n\nFor her the way out was found in the recommendation of an Exeter lady\nwhom she had met, who advised her to take her sister to Devonshire. She\nseized on the idea, and forthwith wrote a letter stating that she felt\nit to be her duty to remove the invalid to the South of England, where\nshe hoped her health would be restored, and asking whether in the event\nof her own way being cleared she would be allowed to return to Calabar,\nor whether she was to consider herself finally separated from the\nMission. Nothing could have been more sympathetic than the reply of the\nBoard. It regretted her family afflictions, said it would be glad to\nhave the offer of her services again in the future, and in\nconsideration of her work continued her home allowance till the end of\nApril.\n\nMeanwhile Mary had, in her swift fashion, carried off her sister, and\nher answer came from Devonshire. She thanked the Committee for its\nconsideration, but, with the independence which always characterised\nher, accepted the allowance only up to the end of February. Thus\nvoluntarily, and from a sense of duty, but with a sore heart, she cut\nherself adrift, for the time being, from the service of the Church.\n\nAs the climate of Devonshire seemed to suit her sister, they went to\nTopsham, where a house was secured with the help of a Mr. Ellis, a\ndeacon in the Congregational Church, to whom she was introduced. It was\nsoon furnished, and then her mother was brought down, and for all her\ntoil and self-sacrifice she was rewarded by seeing a steady improvement\nin the condition of the invalid, and the quiet happiness of both. The\nplace proved too relaxing for her own health, and she was never free\nfrom headaches, but she was not one to allow indisposition to interfere\nwith her service for the Master. In the Congregational Church her\nwinning ways made many friends, and she was soon taking an active part\nin the meetings and addressing large gatherings on her work in Calabar.\n\nAnd then another event occurred which further complicated the\nsituation. Her sister Susan in Scotland went to pay a visit to Mrs.\nM'Crindle, and died suddenly on entering her house. Mary had now the\nfull responsibility for the home and its upkeep; she was earning\nnothing, and she had her mother and sister and the African baby to\nprovide and care for. Happily the invalid continued to improve, and as\nit was imperative for Mary to be back at work, it was decided that she\nshould apply for reinstatement. She told her mother of her desire to go\nup-country, and asked whether she would allow her to do so if the\nopportunity came. \"You are my child, given to me by God,\" was the\nreply, \"and I have given you back to Him. When He needs you and where\nHe sends you, there I would have you be.\" Mary never forgot these brave\nwords, which were a comfort to her throughout her life. On applying to\nthe Foreign Mission Committee stating that she was willing, if it saw\nfit, to go back at once, she was gladly reinstated, and Calabar was\nconsulted regarding her location. As there was some talk of a forward\nmovement it was resolved to leave the matter over, and send her in the\nmeantime to Creek Town.\n\nHer friends in Topsham assured her that they would look well after her\nmother and sister, but all the arrangements she had made for the smooth\nworking of the household collapsed a month before she was booked to\nsail. Her mother suddenly failed and took to her bed. Mary grew\ndesperate with strain and anxiety, and like a wild creature at bay\nturned this way and that for an avenue of escape. In her agony of mind\nshe went to Him who had never failed her yet, and He gave her guidance.\nNext day a letter was on its way to Dundee to an old factory friend,\nasking if she would come and take charge of the household. A strange\nmingling of pathos and dignity, a passionate love and solicitude,\nmarked the appeal, which, happily, evoked a ready assent. Not less\nmoving in its way was the practical letter she sent to her friend, with\nlong and minute directions as to travelling; there was not a detail\nforgotten, the mention of which might contribute to her ease and\ncomfort. Her friend arrived a few days before her departure. On Guy\nFawkes' Day Mary wished to take her to a church meeting to introduce\nher to some acquaintances, but was too afraid to venture out among the\nroughs--she who was soon to face alone some of the most savage crowds\nin Africa!\n\nOn the sea the past months receded and became like an uneasy dream. She\nwas content simply to lie In her chair on deck and rest her tired mind\nand body. On arriving it was pleasant to receive a warm welcome from\nall the Mission friends, and still more pleasant to find that there had\nbeen talk of her going to Ikunetu to attempt to obtain a footing among\nthe wild people of Okoyong.\n\n\n\n\n                              VIII. BEREFT\n\nDespite her happiness in being back at the work she loved, there was an\nunderlying current of anxiety in her life. Her thoughts dwelt on the\ninvalids at home; she wearied for letters; she trembled before the\narrival of the mails; even her dreams influenced her. But she would not\nallow herself to grow morbid. Every morning she went to the houses in\nthe Mission before breakfast to have a chat and cheer up the inmates.\nOn New Year's Eve, fearing the adoption of European customs by the\nnatives, and wishing to forestall them, she invited all the young men\nwho were Christians to a prayer-meeting from eleven o'clock till\nmidnight. They then went up and serenaded Mr. and Mrs. Luke, two new\nmissionaries, whose subsequent pioneer work up-river was a record of\ntoil and heroism. Mr. Luke entered into the spirit of the innovation.\nHe gave out the 2nd Paraphrase and read the 90th Psalm. Prayer was\nuttered, and the company separated, singing the evening hymn in Efik.\n\nNext morning, the first of the year 1886, she arose early and wrote a\nletter, overflowing with love and tenderness and cheer, to her mother\nand sister. It was finished on the third, on the arrival of the home\nmail. She was at tea with Mrs. Luke before going to a meeting in the\nchurch, when the letters came. \"I was hardly able to wait for mine,\"\nshe wrote; \"and then I rushed to my room and behaved like a silly body,\nas if it had been bad news. It brought you all so clearly before me. At\nchurch I sat beside the King and cried quietly into my wrap all the\nevening,\" The last words in her letter were, \"Tell me all your\ntroubles, and be sure you take care of yourselves.\" She never received\na reply. Mrs. Slessor had died suddenly and peacefully at the turn of\nthe year. She had been nursed by loving hands, whilst her medical\nattendant and the minister of the Congregational Church, and his wife,\nshowed her much kindness. Three months later Janie also passed away,\nand was laid beside her mother in Topsham cemetery, the deacons and\nmembers of the church and many friends attending and showing honour to\none whom they had learned to love for her own sake as well as for her\nsister's.\n\nMary was inconsolable. \"I, who all my life have been caring and\nplanning and living for them, am left, as it were, stranded and alone.\"\nA sense of desolation and loneliness unsupportable swept over her.\nAfter all the sorrow that had crowded upon her she felt no desire to do\nanything. \"There is no one to write and tell all my stories and\ntroubles and nonsense to.\" One solace remained. \"Heaven is now nearer\nto me than Britain, and no one will be anxious about me if I go up-\ncountry.\" It was characteristic of her that the same night she heard of\nher mother's death she conducted her regular prayer-meeting: she felt\nthat her mother would have wished her to do so, and she went through\nthe service with a breaking heart, none knowing what had happened.\n\nShe wrote hungrily for all details of the last hours, and specified the\nkeepsakes she wished to have. \"I would like something to look at,\" was\nher repeated cry. To her friend who had taken charge of the home she\nwas for ever grateful. In the midst of her grief she was thoughtful for\nher welfare and attended to the minutest details, even repaying the\nsixpences expended for the postage of her letters to Calabar. All\nadmirers of Mary Slessor will honour this lowly Scotswoman who came to\nher help in the day of her greatest need, and who quietly and\nefficiently fulfilled her task....\n\nSo the home life, the source of warmth and sweetness and sympathy, was\nclosed down and she turned to face the future alone.\n\n\n\n\n                     IX. THE SORROWS OF CREEK TOWN\n\nAgain three Marys were in close association--Miss Mary Edgerley, Miss\nMary Johnstone, and Miss Mary Slessor. During the year, however, the\ntwo former proceeded home on furlough, and the last was left in entire\ncharge of the women's side of the work at Creek Town. It was the final\nstage of her training for the larger responsibilities that awaited her.\nThere was at first little in the situation to beguile her spirits. It\nwas a bad season of rain and want, and she was seldom out of the abodes\nof sickness and death. So great was the destitution that she lived on\nrice and sauce, in order to feed the hungry. And never had she suffered\nso much from fever as she did now in Creek Town.\n\nHer duties lay in the Day School, Sunday School, Bible Class, and\nInfant Class, but, as usual, the more personal aspect of the work\nengaged her chief energies. The training of her household, which, as\nshe was occupying a part of Mr. Goldie's house and had less\naccommodation, was a small one then, took much of her time and thought\nand wit. First in her affections came Janie, now a big and strong girl\nof four years, and as wild as a boy, who kept her in constant hot-\nwater. She was a link with the home that had been, and Mary regarded\nher as specially her own: she shared her bed and her meals, and even\nher thoughts, for she would talk to her about those who had gone. The\nchild's memory of Britain soon faded, but she never ceased to pray for\n\"all in Scotland who remember us.\" She was made more of than was good\nfor her, but was always brought to her level outside of Creek Town.\nMary had heard that both her parents were dead, but one day the father\nappeared at the Mission House. She asked him to come and look at his\nchild. He shrugged his shoulders, and said, \"Let me look from a\ndistance.\" Mary seized him and drew him towards the child, who was\ntrembling with terror. In response to a command in Efik the girl threw\nher arms around his neck, and his face relaxed and became almost\nbeautiful. When he looked into her eyes, and she hid her head on his\nbreast, the victory was complete. He set her upon his knee and would\nscarcely give her up. Although he lived a long way off he returned\nevery other day with his new wife and a gift of food.\n\nNext came a girl of six years, whose father was a Christian. She also\nwas full of tricks, and, with Janie, was enough for one house. But\nthere was also Okin, a boy of about eight, whose mother was a slave\nwith no voice in his upbringing, but whose mistress wished him to be\ntrained up for God, a mischievous fellow whose new clothes lasted\nusually about a week, but willing and affectionate and, on the whole,\ngood; and another boy of ten called Ekim, a son of the King of Old\nTown, whose mother gave him to Mary when she first went out. On her\ndeparture for Scotland he had gone back to his heathen home and its\nfashions, but returned to her when she settled in Creek Town. He was\ntruthful, warm-hearted, and clever, and as a free boy and heir to a\nresponsible position the moulding of his character gave her much\nthought and care. The last was Inyang, a girl of thirteen, but bigger\nthan Mary herself, possessing no brains, but for faithfulness,\ntruthfulness, honesty, and industry without a peer. She hated to dress\nor to leave the kitchen, but she washed, baked, and did the housework\nwithout assistance, and was kind to the children. These constituted\nher inner circle, but she was always taking in and caring for derelict\nchildren. At this time there were several in the house or yard. Two\nwere twins five months old, whom she had found lying on the ground\ndiscarded and forlorn, and who had developed into beautiful children.\nTheir father was a drunken parasite, with a number of wives, whom he\nbattered and beat in turn. Another castaway came to her in a wretched\nstate. The father had stolen a dog, and the mother had helped him to\neat it. The owner threw down a native charm at their door, and the\nwoman sickened and died, and as all believed that the medicine had\nkilled her no one would touch the child. The woman's mistress was a\ndaughter of old King Eyo, and a friend of Mary, and she sent the\ninfant, dirty and starved, to the Mission House with her compliments.\nMary washed and fed it and nursed it back to decent life, but on\nsending to the mistress a request that one of the slave women might\ncare for it, she got the reply, \"Let it die.\" She let it live.\n\nIn the mornings, while busy with her household, there were perpetual\ninterruptions. Sick folk came to have their ailments diagnosed and\nprescribed for. Some of the diseases she attended to were of the most\nloathsome type, but that made no difference in her compassionate care.\nHungry people came to her to be fed, those in trouble visited her to\nobtain advice and help, disputes were referred to her to be settled.\nWhen all these cases had been dealt with she would go her round of the\nyards, the inmates of which had come to look upon her as a mother. She\nwould sit down and chat with them and discuss their homes, children,\nmarketing, illness, or whatever subject interested them, sometimes\nscolding them, but always leading them to the only things that\nmattered. \"If I told you what I have seen and known of human sorrow\nduring the past months you would weep till your heart ached,\" she wrote\nto a friend. Some of her experiences she could not tell; they revealed\nsuch depths of depravity and horror that the actions of the wild beasts\nof the bush were tame in comparison.\n\nAt Creek Town, as elsewhere, it was not easy to tabulate what had been\nachieved, as the fact that women could not make open confession without\nincurring the gravest penalties kept the missionaries ignorant of the\neffect of their work. But Mary saw behind the veil; she knew quiet\nwomen whose souls looked out of their eyes, and who were more in touch\nwith the unseen than they dared tell; women who prayed and communed\nwith God even while condemned to heathen practices. There was one blind\nwoman whom she placed far before herself in the Christian race:\n\nShe is so poor that she has not one farthing in the world but what she\ngets from us--not a creature to do a thing for her, her house all open\nto rain and sun, and into which the cows rush at times--but blind Mary\nis our one living, bright, clear light. Her voice is ever set to music,\na miracle to the people here, who only know how to groan and grumble at\nthe best. She is ever praising the Lord for some wonderful\nmanifestation of mercy and love, and her testimony to her Saviour is\nnot a shabby one. The other day I heard the King say that she was the\nonly visible witness among the Church members in the town, but he\nadded, \"She is a proper one.\" Far advanced in spiritual knowledge and\nexperience, she knows the deep things of God. That old hut is like a\nheaven here to more than me.\n\n\"Pray for us here\" was the appeal in all her letters to Scotland at\nthis time. \"Pray in a business-like fashion, earnestly, definitely,\nstatedly.\"\n\nFor herself she found a friend in King Eyo, to whom she could go at any\ntime and relate her troubles and receive sympathy and support. She, in\nturn, was often in his State room advising him regarding the private\nand complicated affairs of his little kingdom and his relations with\nthe British Government. He honoured her in various ways, but to her the\ndumb affection of a slave woman whom she had saved was more than all\nthe favours which others, high in the social scale, sought to show her.\n\n\n\n\n                       X. THE FULNESS OF THE TIME\n\nThe question of her future location received much consideration. The\nneeds of the stations on the Cross River, the highway into the\ninterior, were urgent, and it was thought by some that the interests of\nthe Mission called for her presence there, but her mind could not be\nturned from the direction in which she believed she could do the best\nwork. She was essentially a pioneer. Her thoughts were for ever going\nforward, looking past the limitations and the hopes of others, into the\nfields beyond teeming with populations as yet unreached. She was of the\norder of spirits to which Dr. Livingstone belonged. Like him she said,\n\"I am ready to go anywhere, provided it be forward.\" From the districts\ninland came reports of atrocity and wrong: accusations of witchcraft,\nthe ordeal of the poison bean, the shooting of slaves, and the\ndestruction of infants; and she felt the impelling call to go and\nattack these evils. It was not that she did not recognise the value of\nbase-work, of order and organisation and routine.\n\nThe fact that she spent twelve years in patient and loyal service at\nDuke Town, Old Town, and Creek Town demonstrates how important she\nconsidered these to be. But they had been years of training meant to\nperfect her powers before she went forward on her own path to realise\nthe vision given her from above, and they were now ended. For her the\nfulness of the time had come, and with it the way opened up. The local\nMission Committee decided, in October 1886, to send her into the\ndistrict of Okoyong, and informed the authorities in Scotland of the\nfact, carefully adding that this was in line with her own desire.\n\nA change had just been made in the relation of the women on the staff\nof the Mission to the administration at home. The Zenana Scheme of the\nChurch had been constituted as a distinct department of the Foreign\nMission operations in 1881, and having appealed to the women of the\ncongregations, had proved a success. It was now thought expedient that\nthe Calabar lady agents should be brought into the scheme, and\naccordingly, in May 1886, they became responsible to the Zenana\nCommittee, and through them to the Foreign Mission Board. The Zenana\nCommittee recommended that the arrangement regarding Mary should be\ncarried out, and the Foreign Mission Board agreed.\n\n\n\n                              THIRD PHASE\n\n                          1888-1902. Age 40-54.\n\n                        THE CONQUEST OF OKOYONG\n\n\"_I am going to a new tribe up-country, a fierce, cruel people, and\nevery one tells me that they will kill me. But I don't fear any hurt-\nonly to combat their savage customs will require courage and firmness\non my part._\"\n\n\n\n\n                        I. A TRIBE OF TERRORISTS\n\nSome time in the dim past a raiding force had swept down from the\nmountains to the east of Calabar, entered the triangle of dense forest-\nland formed by the junction of the Cross and Calabar Hirers, fought and\ndefeated the Ibibios who dwelt there, and taken possession of the\nterritory. They were of the tribe of Okoyong believed to be an outpost,\nprobably the most westerly outpost, of the Bantu race of Central and\nSouth Africa, who had thrust themselves forward like a wedge into\nnegro-land. Physically they were of a higher type than the people of\nCalabar. They were taller and more muscular, their nose was higher, the\nmouth and chin were firmer, their eye was more fearless and piercing,\nand their general bearing contrasted strongly with that of the supine\nnegro of the coast.\n\nTo their superior bodily development they added the worst qualities of\nheathenism: there was not a phase of African devilry in which they did\nnot indulge. They were openly addicted to witchcraft and the sacrifice\nof animals. They were utterly lawless and contemptuous of authority.\nAmong themselves slave-stealing, plunder of property, theft of every\nkind, went on indiscriminately. To survive in the struggle of life a\nman required to possess wives and children and slaves--in the abundance\nof these lay his power. But if, through incompetence or sickness or\nmisfortune, he failed he was regarded as the lawful prey of the chief\nnearest him. To weaken the House of a neighbour was as clear a duty as\nto strengthen one's own. Oppression and outrage were of common\noccurrence. So suspicious were they even of each other that the chiefs\nand their retainers lived in isolated clearings with armed scouts\nconstantly on the watch on all the pathways, and they ate and worked\nwith their weapons ready to their hands. Even Egbo law with all its\npower was often resisted by the slaves and women regardless of the\nconsequences. No free Egbo man would submit to be dictated to by the\nEgbo drum sent by another. A fine might be imposed, but he would sit\nunsubdued and sullen, and then obtain his revenge by seizing or\nmurdering some passing victim. But all combined in a common enmity\nagainst other tribes, and the region was enclosed with a fence of\nterrorism as impenetrable as a ring of steel. The Calabar people were\nhated because of the favoured position they enjoyed on the coast, and\ntheir wealth and power; and a state of chronic war existed with them.\nEach sought to outrival the other in the number of heads captured or\nthe number of slaves stolen or harboured, and naturally there was no\nend to the fighting. All efforts to bring them together in the\ninterests of trade had been in vain. Even British authority was defied,\nand messages from the Consul were ignored or treated with contempt.\n\nThey had their own idea of justice and judicial methods, and trials by\nordeal formed the test of innocence or guilt, the two commonest being\nby burning oil and poison. In the one case a pot was filled with palm\noil which was brought to the boil. The stuff was poured over the hands\nof the prisoner, and if the skin became blistered he was adjudged to be\nguilty and punished. In the other case the es\u00e9r\u00e9 bean--the product of a\nvine--was pounded and mixed with water and drunk: if the body ejected\nthe poison it was a sign of innocence. This method was the surest and\nleast troublesome--for the investigation, sentence, and punishment were\ncarried out simultaneously--unless the witch-doctor had been\ninfluenced, which sometimes happened, for there were various means of\nmanipulating the test.\n\nThese tests were applied when it was desired to discover a thief, or\nwhen a village wanted to know whose spirit dwelt in the leopard that\nslew a goat, or when a chief wished to prove that his wife was faithful\nto him in her heart, but chiefly in cases of sickness or death. They\nbelieved that sickness was unnatural, and that death never occurred\nexcept from extreme old age. When a freeman became ill or died, sorcery\nwould be alleged. The witchdoctor would be called in, and he would name\none individual after another, and all, bond and free, were chained and\ntried, and there would be much grim merriment as the victims writhed in\nagony and their heads were chopped off. The skulls would be kept in the\nfamily as trophies. Occasionally the relations of the victims would be\npowerful enough to take exception to the summary procedure and seek\nredress by force of arms, and a vendetta would reign for years.\n\nIf a man or woman were blamed for some evil deed an appeal could be\nmade to the law of substitution, and a sufficient number of slaves\ncould be furnished as would be equivalent for themselves, and these\nwould be killed in their stead. The eldest son of a free House, for\ninstance, would be spared by the sacrifice of the life of a younger\nbrother.\n\nThe fact that a man's position in the spirit-world was determined by\nhis rank and wealth in this one, demanded the sacrifice of much life\nwhen chiefs died. A few months before Miss Slessor went up amongst them\na chief of moderate means died, and with him were buried eight slave\nmen, eight slave women, ten girls, ten boys, and four free wives. These\nwere in addition to the men and women who died as a result of taking\nthe poison ordeal. Even when death was due to natural decay the retinue\nprovided was the same. After her settlement she made careful enquiry,\nand found that the number of lives sacrificed annually at the instance\nof this custom could not have averaged fewer than 150 within a radius\nof twenty miles, while the same number must have died from ordeals and\ndecapitation on charges of causing sickness. To these had to be added\nthe number killed in the constant warfare.\n\nInfanticide was also responsible for much destruction of life. Twin\nmurder was practised with an even fiercer zeal than it had been in\nCalabar. Child life in general was of little value.\n\nIt was significant of the state of the district that gin, guns, and\nchains were practically the only articles of commerce that entered it.\nGin or rum was in every home. It was given to every babe: all work was\npaid for in it: every fine and debt could be redeemed with it: every\nvisitor had to be treated to it: every one drank it, and many drank it\nall the time. Quarrels were the outcome of it. Then the guns came into\nplay. After that the chains and padlocks.\n\nWomen were often the worst where drink was concerned, There were\ncertain bands formed of those born in the same year who were allowed\nfreer action than others: they could handle gun and sword, and were\nused for patrol and fighting purposes, and were so powerful that they\ncompelled concessions from Egbo. They exacted fines for breach of their\nrules, and feasted and drank and danced for days and nights at a time\nat the expense of the offenders.\n\nSuch lawlessness and degradation at the very doors had long caused the\nCalabar Presbytery much thought. Efforts had been made to enter the\ndistrict both from the Cross and the Calabar Rivers. In one of his\ntours of exploration Mr. Edgerley was seized, with the object of being\nheld for a ransom of rum, and it was only with difficulty that he\nescaped. Others were received less violently, though every member of\nthe tribe was going about with guns on full cock. Asked why, they said,\n\"Inside or outside, speaking, eating, or sleeping, we must have them\nready for use. We trust no man.\" When they learned of the new laws in\nCalabar their amazement was unbounded. \"Killing for witchcraft\nprohibited!\" they exclaimed. \"What steps have been taken to prevent\nwitchcraft from killing?\" \"Widows not compelled to sit for more than a\nmonth in seclusion and filth!--outrageous!\" \"Twins and their mothers\ntaken to Duke Town--horrible! Has no calamity happened?\"\n\nVery little result was achieved from these tours of observation. A\nCalabar teacher was ultimately induced to settle amongst them, but\nafter a shooting affray was compelled to fly for his life.\nMissionaries, however, are never daunted by difficulties, nor do they\nacquiesce in defeat. Ever, like their Master, they stand at the door\nand knock. Once again the challenge was taken up, and this time by a\nwoman. So difficult was the position, that the negotiations for Miss\nSlessor's settlement lasted a year. Three times parties from the\nMission went up, she accompanying them, only to find the people--every\nman, woman, and child--armed and sullen, and disinclined to promise\nanything. \"I had often a lump in my throat,\" she wrote, \"and my courage\nrepeatedly threatened to take wings and fly away--though nobody guessed\nit!\"\n\nAt last, in June 1888, in spite of her fears, she resolved to go up and\nmake final arrangements for her sojourn.\n\n\n\n\n                         II. IN THE ROYAL CANOE\n\nShe went up the river in state. Ever ready to do her a kindness, King\nEyo had provided her with the Royal canoe, a hollow tree-trunk twenty\nfeet long, and she lay in comfort under the cool cover of a framework\nof palm leaves, freshly lopped from the tree, and shut off from the\ncrew by a gaudy curtain. Beneath was a piece of Brussels carpet, and\nabout her were arranged no fewer than six pillows, for the well-to-do\nnatives of Calabar made larger and more skilful use of these than the\nEuropeans.\n\nThe scene was one of quiet beauty; there was a clear sky and a windless\nair; the banks of the river--high and dense masses of vegetation--\nglowed with colour; the broad sweep of water was like a sheet of molten\nsilver and shimmered and eddied to the play of the gleaming paddles. As\nthey moved easily and swiftly along, the paddlemen, dressed in loin-\ncloth and singlet, improvised blithe song in her praise. Strange and\nprimitive as were the conditions, she felt she would not have exchanged\nthem for all the luxuries of civilisation.\n\nShe needed sustenance, for there was trying work before her, and this a\nparaffin stove, a pot of tea, a tin of stewed steak, and a loaf of\nhome-made bread gave her. Wise mental preparation also she needed, for\nthere were elements of uncertainty and danger in the situation. The\nOkoyong might be on the war-path: her paddlers were their sworn\nenemies: a tactless word or act might ruin the expedition. As the canoe\nglided along the river she communed with God, and in the end left the\nissue with Him. \"Man,\" she thought, \"can do nothing with such a\npeople.\"\n\nArriving at the landing beach she made her way by a forest track to a\nvillage of mud huts called Ekenge, four miles inland. Her reception was\na noisy one; men, women, and children thronged about her, and called\nher \"Mother,\" and seemed pleased at her courage at coming alone. The\nchief, Edem, one of the aristocrats of Okoyong, was sober, but his\nneighbour at Ifako, two miles farther on, whom she wished to meet, was\nunfit for human company, and she was not allowed to proceed. She stayed\nthe night at Ekenge, where she gathered the King's boys about her to\nhold family worship. The crowd of semi-naked people standing curiously\nwatching the proceedings exclaimed in wonder as they heard the words\nrepeated in unison: \"God so loved the world,\" and so on. At ten o'clock\nthe women were still holding her fast in talk. One, the chiefs sister,\ncalled Ma Eme, attracted her. \"I think,\" she said, \"she will be my\nfriend, and be an attentive hearer of the Gospel.\" Wearied at last with\nthe strain she was forced to retire into the hut set apart for her.\n\nA shot next morning startled the village. Two women on going outside\nhad been fired at from the bush. In a moment every man had his gun and\nsword and was searching for the assailant. Mary went with one of the\nparties, but to find any one in such a labyrinth was impossible, and\nthe task was given up. Going to Ifako she interviewed the chiefs. The\ncharm of her personality, her frankness, her fearlessness, won them\nover, and they promised her ground for a schoolhouse. Would, she asked,\nthe same privilege be extended to it as to the Mission buildings in\nCalabar? Would it be a place of refuge for criminals, those charged\nwith witchcraft, or those liable to be killed for the dead, until their\ncase could be taken into consideration? They assented. And the house\nshe would build for herself--would it also be a harbour of refuge?\nAgain they assented. She thanked them and promptly went and chose two\nsites, one at Ekenge and one at Ifako, about twenty to thirty minutes'\nwalk apart, according to the state of the track, in order that the\nbenefits of the concession might operate over as wide an area as\npossible. She foresaw, however, that as they were an agricultural and\nshifting people, and spread over a large extent of territory, she would\nrequire to be constantly travelling, and to sleep as often in her\nhammock as in her bed.\n\nRejoicing over the improved prospects, she set out on the return\njourney to Creek Town. It was the rainy season, and ere long the canoe\nran into a deluge and she was soaked. Then the tide was so strong that\nthey had to lie in a cove for two hours. The carcase of a huge snake\ndrifted past, followed by a human body. She was on the outlook for\nalligators, but only saw crowds of crabs on the rotten tree-stumps and\nblack mud fighting as fiercely as the Okoyong people. She was too\nwatchful to sleep, but she heard the boys say softly, \"Don't shake the\ncanoe and wake Ma,\" or \"Speak lower and let Ma sleep.\" When they were\nonce more out on the river she slumbered, and awoke to find the lights\nof Creek Town shining through the darkness.\n\nWhen her friends saw her packing her belongings they looked at her in\nwonder and pity. They said she was going on a forlorn hope, and that no\npower on earth could subdue the Okoyong save a Consul and a gunboat.\nBut she smiled and went on with her preparations. King Eyo again\noffered his canoe and paddlers and a number of bearers for her baggage.\nBy Friday evening, August 3, 1888, all was ready, and she lay down to\nrest but not to sleep. On the morrow she would enter on the great\nadventure of her life, and the strangeness of it, the seriousness of\nit, the possibilities it might hold for her, kept her awake and\nthoughtful throughout the night.\n\n\n\n\n                III. THE ADVENTURE OF TAKING POSSESSION\n\nThe dawn came to Creek Town grey and wet. The rain fell in torrents,\nand the negroes, moving about with the packages, grumbled and\nquarrelled. Wearied and unrefreshed after her sleepless night, Mary was\nnot in the best of spirits, and she was glad to see King Eyo, who had\ncome to supervise the loading and packing of the canoe: his kind eyes,\ncheery smile, and sympathetic words did her good, and her courage\nrevived. Few of the natives wished her God-speed. One young man said\nwith a sob in his voice, \"I will constantly pray for you, but you are\ncourting death.\" Not great faith for a Christian perhaps, but her own\nfaith at the moment was not so strong that she could afford to cast a\nstone at him. As the hours wore on, the air of depression became\ngeneral, and when the party was about to start Mr. Goldie suddenly\ndecided to send one of the Mission staff to accompany her on the\njourney. Mr. Bishop, the printer, who was standing by, volunteered, and\nthere and then stepped into the canoe. Mary and her retinue of five\nchildren stowed themselves into a corner, the paddlers pushed off, and\nthe canoe swept up the river and disappeared in the rain.\n\nThe light was fading ere they reached the landing beach for Ekenge, and\nthere was yet the journey of four miles through the dripping forest to\nbe overtaken. It was decided that she should go on ahead with the\nchildren in order to get them food and put them to sleep, and that Mr.\nBishop and one or two men should follow with dry clothes, cooking\nutensils, and the door and window needed for the hut, whilst the\ncarriers would come on later with the loads. As Mary faced the forest,\nnow dark and mysterious, and filled with the noises of night, a feeling\nof helplessness and fear came over her. What unseen perils might she\nnot meet? What would she find at the end? How would she be received on\nthis occasion? Would the natives be fighting or drinking or dancing?\nHer heart played the coward; she felt a desire to turn and flee. But\nshe remembered that never in her life had God failed her, not once had\nthere been cause to doubt the reality of His guidance and care. Still\nthe shrinking was there; she could not even move her lips in prayer;\nshe could only look up and utter inwardly one appealing word, \"Father!\"\n\nSurely no stranger procession had footed it through the African forest.\nFirst came a boy, about eleven years of age, tired and afraid, a box\ncontaining tea, sugar, and bread upon his head, his garments, soaked\nwith the rain, clinging to his body, his feet slipping in the black\nmud. Behind him was another boy, eight years old, in tears, bearing a\nkettle and pots. With these a little fellow of three, weeping loudly,\ntried hard to keep up, and close at his heels trotted a maiden of five,\nalso shaken with sobs. Their white mother formed the rear. On one arm\nwas slung a bundle, and astride her shoulders sat a baby girl, no light\nburden, so that she had to pull herself along with the aid of branches\nand twigs. She was singing nonsense--snatches to lighten the way for\nthe little ones, but the tears were perilously near her own eyes. Had\never such a company marched out against the entrenched forces of evil?\nSurely God had made a mistake in going to Okoyong in such a guise? And\nyet He often chooses the weakest things of this world to confound and\ndefeat the mighty.\n\nThe village was reached at last, but instead of the noise and confusion\nthat form a bush welcome there was absolute stillness. Mary called out\nand two slaves appeared. They stated that the chief's mother at Ifako\nhad died that morning, and all the people had gone to the carnival. One\nobtained fire and a little water, while the other made off to carry the\nnews that the white woman had arrived. She undressed the children and\nhushed them to sleep, and sat in her wet garments and waited. When Mr.\nBishop appeared it was to say that the men were exhausted and refused\nto bring up anything that night. A woman of weaker fibre and feebler\nfaith would have been in despair: Mary acted with her usual decision.\nThe glow of the fire was cheerful and the singing of the kettle\ntempting, but the morrow was Sunday, there was no food, the children\nwere naked, and she herself wet to the skin. She gave one of the lads\nwho had arrived with Mr. Bishop a lantern, and despatched him to the\nbeach with a peremptory message that the mea must come at once and\nbring what they could. But knowing their character she asked Mr. Bishop\nto collect some of the slaves who had been left to watch the farms, and\nsend them after her as carriers, and then, bootless and hatless, she\nplunged back into the forest.\n\nShe had not gone far before one of the other lads came running after\nher to keep her company; a touch of chivalry which, pleased and\ncomforted her. So dense was the darkness that she often lost sight of\nher companion's white clothes, and was constantly stumbling and\nfalling. The shrilling of the insects, the pulsation of the fire-flies,\nthe screams of the night-birds and the flapping of their wings, the\ncries of wild animals, the rush of dark objects, the falling of decayed\nbranches all intensified the weirdness and mystery of the forest gloom.\nEven the echo of their own voices as they called aloud to frighten the\nbeasts of prey struck on their ears with peculiar strangeness.\n\nBy and by came an answer to their cries, and a glimmer of light showed\nin the darkness. It was the lad with the lantern. As she had surmised,\nhe had failed in his mission. She moved swiftly to the river, splashed\ninto the water, and, reaching the canoe, threw back the cover under\nwhich the men were sleeping, and routed them out, dazed and shamefaced.\nSo skilful, however, was she in managing these dusky giants that in a\nshort time, weary as they were, they were working good-humouredly at\nthe boxes. With the assistance of the slaves who came on the scene they\ntransferred what was needed to Ekenge, and by midnight she felt that\nthe worst was over.\n\nSunday did not find her in more cheerful mood. Her tired limbs refused\nto move, and wounds she had been unconscious of in the excitement of\nthe journey made themselves felt, while her feet were in such a state\nthat for six weeks afterwards she was unable to wear boots. Whether it\nwas the persistent rain and the mud and the weariness and the squalid\nsurroundings, or the fact that the tribe she had come to civilise and\nevangelise were given over to the service of the devil, or that her\nfaith had weakened, or whether it was all of these together, her first\nSunday in Okoyong was one of the saddest she ever experienced. More\nthan once she was on the verge of tears.\n\nAnd yet she was eager to begin work. Prudence, however, held her back\nfrom visiting the scene of debauchery at Ifako. A few women had come\nhome with fractious babies, or to procure more food for the revellers,\nand gathering these about her she held a little service, telling them\nin her simple and direct way the story of the Christ who came from the\nUnseen to make their lives sweeter and happier.\n\nIt was the first faint gleam of a better day for Okoyong.\n\n\n\n\n                        IV. FACING AN ANGRY MOB\n\nThe room allotted to Mary was one of those in the women's yard or harem\nof Edem the chief, and had been previously used by a free wife, who had\nleft its mud floor and mud walls in a filthy state. At one entrance she\ncaused a door to be hung, while a hole was made in the wall and a\nwindow frame fitted in. The work was rude and gaps yawned round the\nsides, but she ensured sufficient privacy by draping them with\nbedcovers. The absence of the villagers at Ifako gave her time to\ncomplete the work, and with her own hands she filled in the spaces with\nmud. She also cleared a portion of the ground set apart for her and\ncircled it with a fence, and within this did her washing. But soon\nthere were calls upon her.\n\n\"_He took a little child and set him in the midst_.\" Her work began\nwith a child. In a fight between Okoyong and Calabar a man of Ekenge\nhad been beheaded. His head was recovered and sent home, thus removing\nthe disgrace, but his wife did not survive the shock, and left a baby\ngirl, which was now brought to Mary. It had been fed on a little water,\npalm oil, and cane juice, and looked less like an infant than a half-\nboiled chicken. Its appearance provoked mirth in the yard, but she\nstooped down and lifted it and took it to her heart, resolving to give\nit a double share of the care and comfort of which it had been\ndefrauded. As she carried it about in her arms, or sat with it in her\nlap, she was regarded with a kind of amused astonishment. But the old\ngrandmother came and blessed her. At first the child rallied to the new\ntreatment: it grew human-like: sometimes Mary thought it looked bonnie:\nbut in a few days it drooped and died.\n\nThe bodies of children were usually placed anywhere in the earth near\nthe huts or under the bush by the wayside, but she dressed the tiny\nform in white and laid it in a provision box and covered it with\nflowers. A native carried the box to a spot which she had reserved in\nher ground: here a grave was dug, and she stood beside it and prayed.\nThe grandmother knelt at her feet, sobbing. Looking on at a distance,\ncurious and scornful, were the revellers from Ifako; they had heard of\nthe proceedings, and had come to witness the white woman's\n\"witchcraft.\" All that they said in effect when they saw the good box\nand the white robe was, \"Why this waste?\" And so the work in Okoyong\nwas consecrated by the death and Christian burial of a little child.\n\nWhen the people came crowding back from the devil-making they sought\nout a young lad who had detached himself from the orgies and remained\nin the village, where he had been very attentive to Mary. They accused\nhim of deserting their ancient customs. She saw him standing in their\nmidst near a pot of oil which was being heated over a fire, and noticed\nthe chief, in front going through some movements and the lad holding\nout his arms, but was unaware of what was taking place until she saw a\nman seize a ladle, plunge it into the boiling oil, and advance to the\nboy. In a moment the truth flashed upon her and she darted forward, but\nwas too late. The stuff was poured over the lad's hands, and he\nshuddered in agony. It was doubtful whether her intervention at that\nearly period would have done any good. They were following the law of\nthe country, and if she had managed to prevent the act they would\nprobably have resorted to the ordeal thereafter in secret; and her\nobject was to show them a better way.\n\nImmediately after this the men of the village left on an expedition of\nrevenge against a number of mourners with whom they had quarrelled. A\nweek of rioting followed. Then a freeman died in the neighbourhood, and\nonce more the village was deserted. Mary, meanwhile, moved hither and\nthither, making friends with the women, healing the sick, tending the\nchildren, and doing any little service that came in her way.\n\nThe return to normal conditions brought her into active conflict with\nthe powers of evil. The mistress of a harem in the vicinity bought a\ngood-looking young woman whom the master coveted, and she became a\nslave-wife. She appeared sullen and unhappy. One afternoon Mary saw her\nmudding a house that was being built for a new free-born wife, and\nspoke to her kindly in passing. A few minutes later the girl made her\nway to one of her master's farms, and sat down in the hut of a slave.\nThe latter was alarmed, knowing well what the consequences would be,\nbut she refused to move. The man went off to his work, and she walked\ninto the forest and hanged herself. Next morning the slave was brought\nin heavily ironed, and at a palaver the master and his relatives\ndecreed he must die; they had been degraded by being associated in this\nway with a common slave.\n\nMary, who was present, protested against the injustice of the sentence;\nthe man, she argued, had done no wrong; it was not his fault that the\ngirl had gone to his hut. \"But,\" was the reply, \"he has used sorcery\nand put the thought into the girl's mind, and the witch-doctor has\npronounced him guilty.\" She persisted. The crowd became angry and\nexcited; they surged round her demanding why a stranger who was there\non sufferance should interfere with the dignity and power of free-born\npeople, and clamoured for the instant death of the prisoner. Threats\nwere shouted, guns and swords were waved, and the position grew\ncritical, but she stood her ground, quiet and cool and patient. Her\ntact, her good humour, that spiritual force which seemed to emanate\nfrom her in times of peril, at last prevailed. The noise and confusion\ncalmed down, and ultimately it was decided to spare the man's life. She\nhad won her first victory.\n\nBut the victim was loaded with chains, placed in the women's yard,\nstarved, and then flogged, and his body cruelly cut in order to\nexorcise the powers of sorcery that were in him. When Mary went to him\nhe was a bruised and bleeding heap of flesh lying unconscious by the\npost to which he was fastened. The women in the yard were sitting about\nindifferent to his plight.\n\n\n\n\n                            V. LIFE IN HAREM\n\nFor many weeks she was an inmate of the harem, a witness of its\ndegraded intimacies, enduring the pollution of its moral and physical\natmosphere, with no other support than hallowed memories and the\ncompanionship of her Bible. Her room was next that of the chief and his\nhead wife: the quarters of five lesser wives were close by; other wives\nwhose work and huts were at the farms shared the yard with the slaves,\nvisitors, and children; two cows--small native animals that do not\nproduce milk--occupied the apartment on the other side of the\npartition; goats, fowls, cats, rats, cockroaches, and centipedes were\neverywhere. In her own room the three boys slept behind an erection of\nboxes and furniture, and the two girls shared her portion. Every night\nher belongings had to be taken outside in order to provide sufficient\naccommodation for them all, and as it was the wet season they had\nusually to undergo a process of drying in the sun each day before being\nreplaced.\n\nThere was a ceaseless coming and going in the yard, a perpetual\nchattering of raucous voices. The wives were always bickering and\nscolding, the tongue of one of them going day and night, her chief butt\nbeing a naked and sickly slave, who was for ever being flogged. There\nwas no sleep for Mary when this woman had any grievance, real or\nimaginary, on her mind.\n\nBoth wives and visitors conceived it their duty to sit and entertain\ntheir white guest. To an African woman the idea of loneliness is\nterrible, and good manners made it incumbent that as large a gathering\nas possible should keep a stranger company. All is implied in the word\n\"home,\" its sacredness and freedom, its privacy, lies outside the\nknowledge and experience of polygamists. Kind and neighbourly as the\nwomen were, they could not understand the desire of Mary to be\nsometimes by herself. She needed silence and solitude; her spirit\ncraved for communion with her Father, and she longed for a place in\nwhich to pour out her heart aloud to Him. As often as politeness\npermitted, she fled to the ground reserved for her, but they followed\nher there, and in desperation she would take a machete and hack at the\nbush, praying the while, so that her voice was lost in the noise she\nmade.\n\nOne woman of mark was Eme Ete--Ma Eme as she was usually called--a\nsister of the master, the same who had attracted her attention on the\nprevious visit. She was the widow of a big chief, and had just returned\nfrom the ceremonies in connection with her husband's death, where she\nhad undergone a terrible ordeal. All his wives lay under suspicion, and\neach brought to the place of trial a white fowl, and from the way in\nwhich it fluttered after its head was cut off the judgment was\npronounced. The strain was such that when the witch-doctor announced Ma\nEme free from guilt she fainted. Big-boned and big-featured, she had\nbeen fattened to immensity. One day Mary pointed to some marks on her\narms and said, \"White people have marks like these,\" showing the\nvaccination cicatrice on her own arm. Ma Eme simply said, \"These are\nthe marks of the teeth of my husband.\" In that land a man could do as\nhe liked with his free-born wife--bite her, beat her, kill her, and\nnobody cared. When consorting with the others Ma Eme had the coarse\ntone common to all, but as she spoke to Mary or the children her voice\nsoftened and her instincts and manners were refined and gentle. A\nmother to every one, she scolded, encouraged, and advised in turn, and\nwhen the chief was drunk or peevish she was always between him and his\nwives as intercessor and peacemaker. She watched over Mary, brought her\nfood, looked after her comfort, and helped her in every way, and did it\nwith the delicacy and reserve of a well-bred lady. Unknown to all she\nconstituted herself Mary's ally, becoming a sort of secret intelligence\ndepartment, and, at the risk of her life, keeping her informed of all\nthe underground doings of the tribe. \"A noble woman,\" Mary called her,\n\"according to her lights and knowledge.\"\n\nThe wives appeared to have less liberty than the slaves. How carefully\nguarded their position was by unwritten law Mary had reason to know. A\ngirl-wife employed a slave-man to do work for a day. His master\nunexpectedly sent for him, and he asked the girl for the food which was\npart of his wage. She at first declined; her husband was absent, and it\nwas against the law of the harem, but as he insisted she yielded and\nhanded him a piece of yam. When this became known she was seized,\nbound, and condemned to undergo the ordeal of the burning oil. It was\nan occasion for feasting and merriment, and as the fun progressed the\ncords were gradually tightened until she screamed piteously with the\npain. Mary went and faced the crowd and pled for her release. There was\nthe usual uproar, but she succeeded in carrying off the victim, who was\nkept chained to her verandah until the dancing and rioting ended with\nthe dawn.\n\nConditions in the harem were not favourable to child life. The mothers\nwere ignorant and superstitious, and there was no discipline or\ntraining. Infants were often given intoxicating drink in order that fun\nmight be made of their antics and foolish talk. As they grew up they\nlearned nothing but what was vile. The slave children became thieves--\nthey had to steal in order to live. But if caught they would be chained\nto a post and starved or branded with fire-sticks. They became\ndeceitful--they had to lie in order to gain favour. In this they simply\nfollowed the instinctive impulses of their nature and of the lower\nnature about them. As the insects mimicked inanimate objects to escape\ninjury or death, so they simulated the truth to save themselves a\nbeating or mutilation. The free-born children did not require to steal,\nbut lying was in the air like a contagion, and none could avoid its\ninfluence. Of the older boys and girls Mary wrote: \"They are such a\npest to every one that it is almost impossible to love them.\" Yet with\na divine pity she gathered them to her and mothered them.\n\nHer earlier observations of the character of the African women were\nconfirmed by her sojourn in the harem. Hard and callous, as a result of\ncenturies of bush law and outrage, their patience and self-repression\nunder the most terrible indignities were to her a marvel. They were not\ndevoid of fine feeling, and beneath the surface of their nature the\nflow of affection and pity often ran pure and sweet. On one occasion a\nlarge number of prisoners were chained previous to undergoing the\nordeal of the poison bean. There were mothers with infants in their\narms, who throughout a hot day lay on the ground in torture and terror.\nAt dusk the guards left them for a time, and seizing the chance a few\nof the older women stole tremblingly towards them with water, which\nthey gave to the children and divided the remainder among the mothers.\nAnticipating such an opportunity Mary had had some rice cooked, and\nthis also the women smuggled to the prisoners. Had they been discovered\ntheir lives would have been forfeited.\n\nBands of women of the special class already described came from a\ndistance to see the white \"Ma,\" always more or less under the influence\nof drink; loose in speech, and destitute of modesty, these Amazons made\nher angry. They would appear at night and demand admittance to the yard\nin the hope of obtaining rum and other good things from the wealthy\nwhite woman. When barred out they threatened reprisals. The chief, who\nnever allowed his wives to go out of the yard to dance even with his\nown relatives, stood on guard all night before his guest's room, and it\nwas only after sunrise, when all were astir, that they were admitted.\nHaggard after their night's debauch, they presented a sorry sight,\ntheir bare bodies painted and decked with beads, coloured wools, and\nscraps of red and yellow silk, and many with babies at their side. Mary\nregarded them with pity, but all they could extract from her was\ndisapproval and rebuke, and they left with threats to make her position\nuntenable.\n\nSome of the scenes she witnessed in the harem cannot be described. \"Had\nI not felt my Saviour close beside me,\" she said, \"I would have lost my\nreason.\" When at home the memory of these would make her wince and\nflush with indignation and shame. She had no patience with people who\nexpounded the theory of the innocence of man outside the pale of\ncivilisation--she would tell them to go and live for a month in a West\nAfrican harem.\n\n\n\n\n                           VI. STRANGE DOINGS\n\nThe sound of native voices chanting came through the brooding stillness\nof the hot afternoon. With the wild war-song of Okoyong the forest\nfamiliar, but words were strange and wonderful;\n\n    _Jesus the Son of God came down to earth\n     He came to save us from our sins.\n     He was born poor that He might feel for us.\n     Wicked men killed Him and hanged Him on a tree,\n     He rose and went to heaven to prepare a place for us_....\n\nThey were sung with a tremendous force, and as each voice fell into the\npart which suited it, the result was a harmony that thrilled the heart\nof the white woman who listened.\n\nIt was Mary Slessor's day school.\n\nFor a people possessing no written language, no literature, no\nknowledge beyond that handed down from father to son, the first step\ntowards right living, apart from the preaching of the Gospel, is\neducation. Schools go hand in hand with churches in missionary effort.\nMary began hers before she had the buildings in which to teach, one at\nEkenge and the other at Ifako. The latter was held in the afternoon in\norder that she might be back in her yard by sunset. The schoolroom was\nthe verandah of a house by the wayside; the seats were pieces of\nfirewood; the equipment an alphabet card hung on one of the posts.\n\nAt first the entire population turned out and conned the letters, but\nas novelty wore off and the men and women returned to their work the\nattendance dropped to thirty. Good progress was made, and ere long the\ndark-skinned pupils were spelling out words of one and two syllables.\nThe lesson ended with a scripture lesson, a short prayer, and the\nsinging of the sentences she taught. The last was so much enjoyed that\nit was often dark before she could get away.\n\nThe school at Ekenge was held in the outer yard of the chief's house in\nthe evening, when all the wives and slaves were at leisure. Men and\nwomen, old and young, bond and free, crowded and hustled into the yard,\namidst much noise and fun. After a lesson on the alphabet and the\nmultiplication-table she conducted worship. It was a weird scene--the\nwhite woman, slim and slight, standing bareheaded and barefooted beside\na little table on which were a lamp and the Book; in front, squatting\non the ground, the mass of half-naked people as dark as the night,\ntheir shining faces here and there catching the gleam of the light; the\nearnest singing that drowned the voices of the forest, and the strange\nhush that fell, as in grave sweet tones the speaker prayed to what was\nto them the Unknown God.\n\nThe tale of such doings was carried to every corner of Okoyong, and\ninvitations began to arrive from chiefs in other parts. Some, who were\nknown as \"the terror of Calabar,\" came personally to ask her to visit\ntheir villages, and all laid down their arms at the entrance to her\nyard before entering into her presence. But her own chief warned her\nagainst acting too hastily, and she would probably have followed his\nadvice and sought to strengthen her position at Ekenge and Ifako had\nthe matter not been taken out of her hands.\n\n\n\n\n                        VII. FIGHTING A GRIM FOE\n\nThe principal wife of a harem in close neighbourhood to Mary went to\npay a visit to her son and daughter at a village in the vicinity of the\nCross River, some eight hours distant from Ekenge. She found the chief\nso near death that the head man and the people were waiting outside,\nready for the event. Hastening into the harem she spoke of the power of\nthe white \"Ma\" at Ekenge. Had she not cured her grandchild who had bees\nvery ill? Had she not saved many others? Let them send for her and the\nchief would not die. Her advice was acted upon, and a deputation was\ndespatched with a bottle and four rods--about the value of a shilling--\nto secure Mary's aid. She was called to the private room of her chief,\nwhere she found the messengers. \"What is the matter with him?\" she\nasked. As no one knew she decided to go and see for herself. Edem and\nMa Eme objected--the length of the journey, the deep streams to be\ncrossed, the heavy rains, made the task impossible. \"I am going to get\nready,\" was her reply. Finding her immovable, the chief turned with a\nface of gloom to the deputation and sent, them back with a demand for\nan escort of freewomen and armed men. Mary imagined he was merely\nendeavouring to mark time until the death took place: in reality he saw\nthe district given over to violence and murder, and she in the midst\nand her life imperilled.\n\nShe passed a sleepless night. Was she right, after all, in taking so\ngreat a risk? She laid the matter where she laid all her problems, and\ncame to the conclusion that she was. With the morning appeared the\nguard of women, who intimated that the armed men would join them\noutside the village. The rain was falling as they set out later came\ndown in torrents, continuous, and pitiless. Her boots were soon\nabandoned; then her stockings; next her umbrella, broken in battle with\nthe vegetation, was thrown aside. Bit by bit her clothes, too heavy to\nbe endured, were transferred to the calabashes carried by the women on\ntheir heads, and in the lightest of garments she struggled on through\nthe steaming bush.\n\nThree hours of trudging brought her to a market-place where, in the\nclearing atmosphere, hundreds of natives were gathering. They gazed at\nher in amazement. Feeling humiliated at her appearance, she slunk shyly\nand swiftly through their midst and went on, wondering if she had \"lost\nface\" and their respect. Afterwards she learnt that the self-denial and\ncourage which that walk in the rain exhibited had done more than\nanything else to win their hearts. Others, however, were not so well-\ndisposed. At one town the old chief was anything but courtly, and only\nwith reluctance allowed her to pass.\n\nWhen she reached the sick man's village and looked into the grim\nexpectant faces of the armed crowd, she felt as if she were walking\ninto a den of wild beasts. At any moment the signal might be given, and\nthe slaughter of the retinue for the spirit-land begin. The women,\nsilent and fear-stricken, carried off her wet clothes to dry. She was\ncold and feverish, but went straight to the patient and tended him as\nwell as she could. Then she turned to the pile of odds and ends of\ngarments which had been collected for her, and looked at them with a\nshudder. But there was no alternative, and, arraying herself in the\nrags, she went forth to meet the critical gaze of the crowd.\n\nThe medicine she had brought had proved insufficient, and more must be\nobtained; many lives, she knew, depended upon it. To go back to Ekenge\nwas out of the question. Was there, she asked the people about her, a\nway to Ikorofiong? The Rev. Alexander Cruickshank was stationed there,\nand he would supply what was needed. They confessed that there was a\nroad to the river and a canoe could be got to cross, but they dared not\ngo there, they would never come back, they would be seized and killed.\nSome one told her that a Calabar man, whose mother was an Okoyong woman\nand who came to trade, was living in his canoe not far off. \"Seek him,\"\nsaid she. He was found, but would not land until assured that it was a\nwhite woman who wanted him. Mary prevailed upon him to undertake the\njourney; and he returned with all she required and more. With the\nthoughtfulness and kindliness of pioneer missionaries Mr. and Mrs.\nCruickshank sent over tea and sugar and other comforts and, what she\nvalued not less, a letter of cheer and sympathy. Hot with fever, racked\nwith headache, she brewed the tea in a basin, and it seemed to her a\nroyal feast. The world of friends had drawn nearer, she felt less\nlonely, her spirits revived.\n\nThe patient drew back from the valley of death, regained consciousness,\nand gathered strength; and the women looking on in wonder, became\nobedient and reliable nurses; the freemen thought no more of sacrifice\nand blood; the whole community had visions of peace; they expressed a\nwish to make terms with Calabar and to trade with the Europeans and\nlearn \"book.\" She was engaged all day in answering questions. Morning\nand evening she held a simple service, and seldom had a more reverent\naudience. Much worn out, she left them at last with regret, promising\nto be always their mother, to try and secure a teacher, and to come\nagain and see them.\n\nHer faith and fearlessness had been justified, and she had her reward,\nfor from that time forward Okoyong was free to her.\n\n\n\n\n                     VIII. THE POWER OF WITCHCRAFT\n\nThe belief in witchcraft dominated the lives of the people like a dark\nshadow more menacing than the shadow of death. Taking advantage of\ntheir superstition and fear the witch-doctors--some of the cunningest\nrogues the world has produced--held them in abject bondage, and Mary\nwas constantly at battle with the results of their handiwork.\n\nThe chief of Ekenge was lying ill. Since she had taken up residence in\nhis yard he had treated her with consideration, and guarded her\ninterests and well-being, and now came the opportunity to reciprocate\nhis kindness. She found him suffering from an abscess in his back, and\ngave herself up to the task of nursing and curing him. All was going\nwell, when one morning, as she entered with his tea and bread, she saw\na living fowl impaled on a stick. Scattered about were palm branches\nand eggs, and round the neck and limbs of the patient were placed\nvarious charms. The brightness of her greeting died away. Edem was\nsuspiciously voluble and frank, flattered the goodness and ability of\nthe white people, but said they could not understand the malignity of\nthe black man's heart. \"Ma, it has been made known to us that some one\nis to blame for this sickness, and here is proof of it--all these have\nbeen taken out of my back.\" He held out a parcel which, on opening, she\nfound to contain shot, powder, teeth, bones, seeds, egg-shells, and\nother odds and ends.\n\nOn seeing the collection the natives standing around shook with terror,\nand frantically denounced the wickedness of the persons who had sought\nto compass the death of the chief. Mary's heart sank, she knew what the\naccusation meant. At once, before her eyes, men and women were singled\nout, and seized and chained and fastened to posts in the yard.\nRemonstrance, rebuke, argument were in vain. The chief at last became\nirritated with her importunity, and ordered his retainers to carry him\nto one of his farms, whither he was accompanied by his wives, those of\nnote belonging to his house, and the prisoners. He forbade \"Ma\" to\nfollow, and enjoined secrecy upon all, in order that no tales might be\ncarried back to her. But she had her own means of obtaining\nintelligence of what was going on, and she heard that many others were\nbeing chained, as they were denounced by the witch-doctors.\n\nThe chief became worse, and stronger measures were decided on: all the\nsuspected must die. Mary was powerless to do more than send a message\nof stern warning. Days of suspense and prayer followed. On the last\nnight of the year she was lying awake thinking of the old days and the\nold friends, her heart homesick, and the hot tears in her eyes, when\nthe sound of voices and the flash of a lantern made her start up. It\nwas a deputation from the farm. They had learnt that the native pastor,\nthe Rev. Esien Ukpabio, at Adiabo--the first native convert in Calabar\n--was skilled in this form of disease, and would \"Ma\" give them a letter\nasking him to come over and see the chief? The letter was quickly\ngiven, and she returned to her rest and her memories.\n\nWhen the native pastor asked what was the matter, the reply was that\n\"Some one's soul was troubling the chief.\" \"In that case,\" he said, \"I\ncan do nothing,\" and no persuasion or bribe could move him from his\nposition. His sister, however, thought it might be well for her to go\nand see what she could do, and he consented. Under her care the abscess\nbroke and the chief recovered, and all the prisoners were released with\nthe exception of one woman, who was put to death.\n\nAware of the uncanny way in which his guest heard of things the chief\nsent his son to forestall any tale-bearer. \"No one has been injured,\"\nshe was assured. \"Only one worthless slave woman has been sold to the\nInokon.\" As it was the custom to dispose of slaves who were criminals\nand incorrigible to this cannibal section of the Aros for food at their\nhigh feasts the story was plausible, but she knew better, and when the\nson added that the three children of the victim had been \"quite\nagreeable,\" she thought of the misery she had witnessed on their faces.\nShe pretended to believe the message, however, for to have shown\nknowledge of the murder would have been to condemn scores to the poison\nordeal, in order that her informant might be discovered.\n\nWhen the chief was convalescent it was announced by drum that he would\nemerge on a certain day from his filth--for the natives do not wash\nduring illness--and that gifts would be received. His wives and friends\nand slaves brought rum, rods, clothes, goats, and fowls, and there\nensued a week of drinking, dancing, and fighting, worse than Mary had\nyet seen.\n\nIn the midst of it all she moved, helpless and lonely, and somewhat\nsad, yet not without faith in a better time,\n\n\n\n\n                        IX. SORCERY IN THE PATH\n\nA more extraordinary instance of superstition occurred soon after. A\nchief in the vicinity, noted far and wide for his ferocity, intimated\nthat he was coming to Ekenge on a visit. It meant trouble for the\nwomen, and she prayed earnestly that he might be deterred from his\npurpose. But he duly appeared, and throwing all her anxiety upon God,\nshe faced him calm and unafraid. Days and nights of wild licence\nfollowed, accompanied by an outcrop of disputes, most of which were\nbrought to her to settle.\n\nOne morning she found the guest drunk to excess, but determined to\nreturn at once to his village. His freemen and slaves were beyond\ncontrol, and soon the place was in an uproar: swords were drawn, guns\nwere fired, the excitement reached fever heat. With a courage that\nseemed reckless she hustled them into order and hurried them off and\naccompanied them for the protection of the villages through which they\nmust pass. She was able to prevent more drink being supplied to them,\nand all went well until, at one point on the bush track, they came upon\na plantain sucker stuck in the ground, and, lying about, a cocoanut\nshell, palm leaves, and nuts. The fierce warriors who had been\nchallenging each other and every one they came across to fight to the\ndeath, were paralysed at the sight of the rubbish, and turning with a\nyell of terror rushed back the way they had come. Mary sought forcibly\nto restrain them, but, frantic with fright, they eluded her grasp, and\nran shrieking towards the last town they had passed to wreak vengeance\non the sorcerers. She ran with them, praying for swiftness and\nstrength: she passed them one by one, and breathlessly threw herself\ninto the middle of the path, and dared them to advance. She felt she\nwas almost as mad as they were, but she relied on a Power Who had never\nfailed her, and He did not fail her now. Her audacity awed them: they\nstopped, protested, argued, and gradually their hot anger, resentment,\nand fear died down, and eventually they retraced their steps. She took\nup the \"medicine\" they dreaded, and pitched it into the bush,\nironically invoking the sorcery to pass into her body if it wanted a\nvictim. But nobody could persuade them to proceed that way, and they\nmade a long detour.\n\nUnfortunately drink was smuggled to the band, and fighting began. She\ninduced the more sober to assist her to tie a few of the desperadoes to\ntrees. Leaving these, the company went on dancing, brandishing arms,\nembracing each other, and committing such folly that she felt that she\ncould bear it no longer. As the swift twilight fell she called her few\nfollowers and returned, releasing on the way the delinquents bound to\nthe trees, but sending them homewards with their hands fastened behind\ntheir backs. On passing the scene of the sorcery she picked up the\nplantain sucker, laughingly remarking that she would plant it in her\nyard, and give the witchcraft it possessed an opportunity of proving\nits powers.\n\nNothing is hidden in an African community, news travels swiftly. Next\nmorning came a messenger from the chief she had escorted home. It had\nbeen a terrible night, he said; the native doctor had come to his\nmaster and had taken teeth, shot, hair, seeds, fish-bones, salt, and\nwhat not, out of his leg, If they had been left in the body they would\nhave killed him. It was the plantain sucker that was to blame, and his\nmaster demanded it back. Mary read the menace in the request: the plant\nwas to be used as evidence against some victim. Argument and sarcasm\nalike failed, and she was obliged to hand it over, Edem was standing\nby. \"That,\" he grimly remarked, \"means the death of some one.\"\n\nOn the arrival of the sucker native oaths were administered to all in\nthe village accused of the sorcery, ordeals of various kinds were\nimposed on young and old, slave and free, and the life-blood of a man\nwas demanded by way of settlement of the matter. Strong in their\ninnocence the people resisted the claim, but by guile the chief's\nmyrmidons caught and handcuffed a fine-looking young man belonging to\none of the best families and dragged him into hiding. Any attempt to\neffect a rescue would have meant his murder, and in their dilemma the\npeople thought of the white \"Ma\" and sent and begged her to come and\nplead with the chief for the life and liberty of the prisoner.\n\nShe had never a more unpleasant task, for she detested the callous\nsavage, but there was nothing else to do; and she went depending less\nupon herself than upon God. She walked tremblingly into the man's\npresence, but her fear soon passed into disgust and indignation. He was\nthe personification of brutality, selfishness, and cowardice. Laughing\nat her entreaties he told her to bring the villagers and let them fight\nit out. She pointed out that neither he nor his House had suffered by\nwhat had happened; that the accused people had taken every oath and\nordeal prescribed by their laws; and that his procedure was therefore\nunjust and unlawful, \"It is due to your presence alone that I escaped,\"\nhe retorted; \"they murdered, me in intention if not in fact.\" His head\nwile backed him up, and both became so rude and offensive to Mary that\nit took all her grace to keep her temper and her ground. As she would\nnot leave the house the chief said he would, and walked out, remarking\nthat he was going to his farm on business. Swallowing her pride she\nfollowed him and begged him humbly as an act of clemency to free the\nyoung man. He turned, elated at her suppliant attitude, laughed loudly,\nand said that no violence would be used until all his demands had been\ncomplied with.\n\nShe returned to her yard, and days of strain followed. The situation\ndeveloped into a quarrel between the truculent chief and Edem, and\nevery man went armed, women crept about in fear, scouts arrived hourly\nwith the latest tidings. Her life was a long prayer....\n\nOne day the young man was set free, without reason or apology being\ngiven or condition exacted, and told to go to his people. With his\nsafety all desire for revenge was stilled, and matters resumed their\nnormal course. The heart of Mary once more overflowed with gratitude\nand joy.\n\n\n\n\n                    X. HOW HOUSE AND HALL WERE BUILT\n\nShe was impatient to have a house of her own, but the natives were slow\nto come to her assistance. They thought the haste she exhibited was\nundignified, and smiled compassionately upon her. There was no hurry--\nthere never is in Africa. If she would but wait all would be well. When\nargument failed, they went off and left her to cut down the bush and\ndig out the roots herself. Lounging about in the village they\ncommiserated a Mother who was so strongheaded and wilful, and consoled\nthemselves with the thought of the work they would do when once they\nbegan. She could make no progress, and there was nothing for it but to\ntend the sick, receive visitors, mend the rags of the village, cut out\nclothing for those who developed a desire for it, and look after her\nfamily of bairns.\n\nOne day, however, the spirit moved the people and they flocked to the\nground. She constituted herself architect, clerk of works, and chief\nlabourer. Her idea was to construct a number of small mud-huts and\nsheds, which would eventually form the back buildings of the Mission\nHouse proper. Four tree-trunks with forked tops were driven into the\nground, and upon them were laid other logs. Bamboos, crossed and\nrecrossed, and covered with palm mats, formed the roof and verandah.\nUpright sticks, interlaced and daubed with red clay, made the walls.\nTwo rooms, each eleven feet by six with a shaded verandah, thus came\ninto existence. Then a shed was added to each end, making three sides\nof a square. Fires were kept blazing day and night, in order to dry the\nmaterial and to smoke it as a protection against vermin. Drains were\ndug and the surrounding bush cleared.\n\nIn one of the rooms she put a fireplace of red clay, and close to it a\nsideboard and dresser of the same material. Holes were cut out for\nbowls, cups, and other dishes, and rubbed with a stone until the\nsurface was smooth. The top had a cornice to keep the plates from\nfalling off, and was polished with a native black dye. Her next\nachievement was a mud-sofa where she could recline, and a seat near the\nfireside where the cook could sit and attend to her duties.\n\nIn the other room she deposited her boxes, books, and furniture.\nHanging upon the posts were pots and pans and jugs, and her alphabet\nand reading-sheets. In front stood her sewing-machine, rusty and\nuseless after its exposure in the damp air. There also at night was a\nsmall organ, which during the day occupied her bed.\n\nSuch was the \"caravan,\" as Mary called it, which was her dwelling for a\nyear: a wonderful house it seemed to the people of Okoyong, who\nregarded it with astonishment and awe. To herself it was a delight.\nNever had the building of a home been watched with such loving\ninterest. And when it was finished no palace held a merrier family. At\nmeals all sat round one pot, spoons were a luxury none required, and\nnever had food tasted so sweet. There were drawbacks--all the cows,\ngoats, and fowls in the neighbourhood, for instance, seemed to think\nthe little open yard was the finest rendezvous in the village.\n\nHer next thought was for the church and schoolhouse. A mistress of\nmissionary strategy, she wished to build this at Ifako, in order that\nshe might control a larger area, but the chiefs for long showed no\ninterest in the matter. One morning, however, an Ifako boy sought her\nwith the message, \"My master wants you.\" She thought the command\nsomewhat peremptory, but went. To her surprise she found the ground\ncleared; posts, sticks, and mud ready, and the chiefs waiting her\norders. She designed a hall thirty feet by twenty-five, with two rooms\nat the end for her own use, in case storm or sickness or palaver should\nprevent her going home. Work was started; and not a single slave was\nemployed in the carrying of the material or in the construction. King\nEyo sent the mats, some thousands in number, for the roof, and free\nwomen carried them the four miles from the beach, plastered the walls,\nmoulded the mud-seats, beat the floor, and cleared up, and all\ncheerfully, and without thought of reward. Doors and windows were still\nawanting, but she asked for the services of a carpenter from Calabar to\ndo this bit of work; and meanwhile the humble building, the first ever\nerected for the worship of God in Okoyong, was formally opened.\n\nIt was a day of days for the people. Mary had prepared them for it, and\nall appeared in their new Sunday attire, which, in many cases,\nconsisted of nothing more than a clean skin. But the contents of\nvarious Mission boxes had been kept for the occasion, and the children,\nafter being washed, were decked for the first time in garments of many\nshapes and colour--\"the wearing of a garment,\" said Mary, \"never fails\nto create self-respect.\" It was a radiant and excited company that\ngathered in the hall. There was perhaps little depth in their emotion,\nbut she regarded the event as a step towards better things. Her idea\nwas to separate the day from the rest, and to make it a means of\nbringing about cleanliness and personal dignity, while it also imposed\nupon the people a little of that discipline which they so much needed.\n\nThe chiefs were present, and they voluntarily made the promise before\nall that the house would be kept sacred to God and His service, that\nthe slave-women and children would be sent to it for instruction, that\nno weapon of warfare would be carried into it, and that it would be a\nsanctuary for those who fled to it for refuge.\n\nServices and day school were now held regularly in the hall. The latter\nwas well attended, all the pupils showing eagerness to learn \"book,\"\nand many making rapid progress.\n\nThe larger Mission House, which Mary intended to occupy the space in\nfront of the yard at Ekenge, was a stiffer problem for the people, and\nfor a time they hung back from the attempt to build it.\n\n\n\n\n                      XI. A PALAYER AT THE PALACE\n\nPerhaps the greatest obstacle to Christian truth and progress was not\nsuperstition or custom, but drink. She had seen something of the\ntraffic in rum and gin at the coast, but she was amazed at what went on\nin Okoyong. All in the community, old and young, drank, and often she\nlay down to rest at night knowing that not a sober man and hardly a\nsober woman was within miles of her. When the villagers came home from\na drunken bout the chief men would rouse her up and demand why she had\nnot risen to receive them. At all hours of the day and night they would\nstagger into the hut, and lie down and fall asleep. Her power, then,\nwas not strong enough to prevent them--but the time came.\n\nThe spirit came up from Calabar and was the chief article of trade.\nWhen a supply arrived processions of girls carrying demijohns trooped\nin from all quarters, as if they were going to the spring for water. At\nthe funeral of one big man seven casks of liquor were consumed, in\naddition to that bought in small quantities by the poorer classes. A\nrefugee of good birth and conduct remarked to Mary once that he had\nbeen three days in the yard and had not tasted the white man's rum.\n\"Three days!\" she replied, \"and you think that long!\" \"Ma,\" he said, in\nevident astonishment, \"three whole days! I have never passed a day\nwithout drinking since I was a boy.\"\n\nShe fought this evil with all her energy and skill. Her persuasion so\nwrought on the chiefs that on several occasions they agreed to put away\nthe drink at palavers, with the result that those who had come from a\ndistance departed, sober and in peace, to the wonderment of all around.\n\nShe saw that the people were tempted and fell because of their idleness\nand isolation; for they still maintained their aloofness from all their\nneighbours, and there was yet no free communication with Calabar. If a\nmissionary happened to pay her a visit he would be stopped on the\nforest track by sentries who, after satisfying themselves as to his\nidentity, \"cooeed\" to other watchers farther on. Dr. Livingstone\nbelieved that the opening up of Central Africa to trade would help to\nstamp out the slave traffic, and in the same way she was convinced that\nmore legitimate commerce and the development of wants among the people\nwould to some extent undermine the power of drink. All the ordinary\ntrade she had seen done so far was the sale of five shillings' worth of\nhandkerchiefs and a sixpenny looking-glass. She urged the chiefs to\ntake the initiative, and was never tired of showing them her\npossessions, in order to incite within them a desire to own similar\narticles. They were greatly taken with the glass windows and doors, and\none determined to procure wood and \"shut himself in.\" Her clock,\nsewing-machine, and organ were always a source of wonder, and people\ncame from far and near to see them. The women quickly became envious of\nher household goods, and she could have sold her bedcovers, curtains,\nmeat-safe, bedstead, chest of drawers, and other objects a score of\ntimes. More promising still was their desire to have clean dresses like\ntheir \"Ma,\" and she spent a large portion of her time cutting out and\nshaping the long simple garment that served to hide their nakedness.\n\nShe also sent down to Calabar and asked some of the native trading\npeople whom she knew to come up with cloth, pots, and dishes, and other\nuseful articles, guaranteeing them her protection; but so great was\ntheir fear of the Okoyong warriors and so poor their faith in her\npower, that they refused point blank--they would as soon have thought\nof going-to the moon. \"Well,\" said Mary, \"if they won't come to us we\nmust go to them.\" She had been seeking to familiarise the minds of the\nchiefs with the idea of settling their disputes by means of arbitration\ninstead of by fighting, and had been cherishing the hope that she might\npersuade some of them to proceed to Creek Town and discuss the subject\nwith King Eyo. She now proposed to the King that he should invite them\nto a palaver at his house, and at the same time she would endeavour to\nhave some produce sent down direct to the traders.\n\nThe King had never ceased to take an interest in her work: he\nfrequently sent up special messengers to enquire if all was well, and\nalways reminded her that he was willing to be of service to the Okoyong\npeople. A grandson of the first King Eyo also sent men occasionally,\nwith instructions to do anything they could for the white Mother, and\nto bring down her messages to Calabar. Such kindly thought often took\nthe edge off her loneliness.\n\nThe King at once sent the invitation, and, trusting more in the word of\nMary than in that of the King, all the chiefs in her neighbourhood\naccepted the offer and an expedition to Creek Town was organised. A\ncanoe was obtained, and heaped with yams and plantains, gifts for the\nKing, and with bags of palm-kernels and a barrel of oil, the first\ninstalment of trade with the Europeans. Alas! the natives know nothing\nabout a load-line, and as the tide rose the canoe sank. It was not an\nunmixed pleasure setting out with men who were ignorant of the\nmanagement of canoes, but another day was fixed and another canoe was\nfound. The whole of Okoyong seemed to be at the beach, and every man,\nwoman, and child was uttering counsel and heartening the intrepid\nvoyagers. Several of the chiefs drew back and disappeared, and of the\nhalf-dozen who remained only two could be persuaded to embark when they\nlearnt that guns and swords must be left behind.\n\n\"Ma, you make women of us! Did ever a man go to a strange place without\nhis arms?\" \"Ma\" was inexorable. She sat down and waited, and after a\ntwo hours' palaver swords were ungirt and handed with the guns to the\nwomen. Those who still declined to go were received back with\nrejoicing, and farewells were made with those who went, amidst wailings\nand tears. A start was made, but the craft proved to be ill-balanced,\nand the cargo had to be shifted. As this was being done she detected a\nnumber of swords hidden below the bags of kernels. Her eyes flashed,\nand the people scattered out of the way as she pitched the arms out on\nthe beach. With a meekness that was amusing the men scrambled into\ntheir places and the canoe shot into the river, Mary taking a paddle\nand wielding it with the best of the men. The journey was made through\ndense darkness and drizzling rain, and occupied twelve hours.\n\nBut she was rewarded by the result. Nothing could exceed the kindness\nof King Eyo. He bore himself as a Christian gentleman, listened\ncourteously to the passionate and foolish speech of the Okoyong\nrepresentatives, reminded the supercilious Calabar chiefs that the\nGospel which had made them what they were had only just been taken to\nOkoyong, and in giving the verdict which went against them, he gently\nmade it the finding of righteousness, according to the laws of God.\nWhen all had been settled he asked Mary to take the chiefs over his\npalace, and invited them to a meeting in the church in the evening,\nwhere he spoke words of cheer and counsel from the words, \"To give\nlight to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide\nour feet into the way of peace.\"\n\nThis experience made a great impression upon the chiefs: they left with\na profound reverence for the King and a determination to abide by his\ndecisions in the future, whilst Mary had added much to her dignity and\nposition. This was proved the morning after they returned to Ekenge.\nShe was awakened by a confused noise, and on looking out was astonished\nto find several chiefs directing slaves, who were working with building\nmaterial. \"What is the matter?\" she asked in wonder. Instead of\nanswering her one of the chiefs who had accompanied her to Calabar\nturned to the crowd and, in a burst of eloquence, described all he had\nseen at Creek Town, how the Europeans lived, and how King Eyo and every\nchief and gentleman had treated their Mother as a person superior to\nthem, and given her all honour. They in Okoyong must now treat her as\nbefitted her rank and station, and must build her a proper house to\nlive in, Mary was hard put to it to preserve her gravity. Soon\nafterwards a young slave, for whom she had often pled, began to wash\nhis hands in some dirty water in a dish outside: his master ran at him\nwith a whip, and it was all she could do to prevent him being lashed.\nOpening out again and again he called the lad a fool for daring to\ntouch a dish used by their Great White Mother.\n\nBut what was more important than all was the fact that the way had at\nlast been opened up for trade relations with Calabar. The people began\nto make oil and buy and sell kernels, and to send the produce down the\nriver direct to the factories. As she had foreseen, they had now less\ntime for palavers, and less inclination for useless drinking, and still\nmore useless quarrelling and fighting.\n\n\n\n\n                      XII. THE SCOTTISH CARPENTER\n\nThe story of the settlement in Okoyong and of the building of the hut\nand hall was related by Miss Slessor in the _Missionary Record_ of the\nChurch for March 1889. The hall she described as \"a beautiful building,\nthough neither doors nor windows are yet put in, as we are waiting for\na carpenter. And,\" she added, \"if there were only a house built, any\nother agent could come and take up the work if I fail.\" In the same\nnumber of the _Record_ there appeared an appeal by the Foreign Mission\nCommittee for \"a practical carpenter, with an interest in Christian\nwork,\" for Calabar.\n\nThere happened to be in Edinburgh at this time a carpenter named Mr.\nCharles Ovens, belonging to the Free Church, who was keenly interested\nin foreign missions. As a boy he had wished to be a missionary, but\nbelieving that only ministers could hold such a post he relinquished\nthe idea. He was an experienced tradesman of the fine old type, a Scot\nof Scots, with the happy knack of looking on the bright side of things.\nHaving been in America on a prolonged visit he was about to return\nthere, and had gone to say good-bye to an old lady friend, a United\nPresbyterian. The latter remarked to him, \"I see Miss Slessor wants a\nman to put in her doors and windows--why don't you go to Calabar?\" He\nhad never heard of Miss Slessor, but the suggestion struck him as good,\nand he straightway saw the Foreign Mission Secretary, and then went and\nchanged the address on his baggage. He left in May, and on his arrival\nin Calabar was sent up to finish the work Mary had begun. All his\nspeech at Duke Town was of America and its wonders, but when he\nreturned some months later he could talk of nothing but Okoyong.\n\nHe found Mary attired in a simple dress, without hat or shoes, dining\nat a table in the yard in the company of goats and hens. She sprang up\nwith delight on hearing the Scots tongue, and welcomed him warmly. The\nconditions were most primitive, and his room was only eight feet long\nand five feet wide, but he possessed much of her Spartan spirit.\nAlthough ignorant of the native language he was of great assistance to\nher during his stay, while his humour and irresistible laugh lightened\nmany a weary day. As he worked he sang \"auld Scots sangs,\" like the\n\"Rowan Tree\" and \"The Auld Hoose.\" When she heard the latter tears came\ninto her eyes at the memories it recalled. Even Tom, his native\nassistant, was affected. \"I don't like these songs,\" he said, \"they\nmake my heart big and my eyes water!\"\n\nThe Mission House had progressed well under Mary's superintendence. She\nhad aimed at making it equal to any at the big stations, and had\nplanned an \"upstairs\" building with a verandah six feet above the\nground, and a kitchen and dispensary. She had mudded the walls, and the\nmat roof was being tied on, and now that Mr. Ovens was at work all was\npromising well, when an event occurred which put a stop to operations\nfor months.\n\n\n\n\n                 XIII. HER GREATEST BATTLE AND VICTORY\n\nOne morning, when nature was as lovely as a dream, Mr. Ovens was\nworking at the new house, and Miss Slessor was sitting on the verandah\nwatching him. Suddenly, from far away in the forest, there came a\nstrange, eerie sound. Ever on the alert for danger, Mary rose and\nlistened.\n\n\"There is something wrong,\" she exclaimed.\n\nFor a moment she stood in the tense attitude of a hunter seeking to\nlocate the quarry, and then, swiftly moving into the forest, vanished\nfrom sight. Mr. Ovens sent Tom, his boy, off after her to find out what\nwas the matter. He returned with a message that there had been an\naccident, and that Mr. Ovens was to come at once and bring\nrestoratives. As the ominous news became known to the natives standing\naround a look of fear came into their faces.\n\nMr. Ovens found her sitting beside the unconscious body of a young man.\n\"It is Etim, the eldest son of our chief, Edem,\" she explained. \"He was\nabout to be married, and had been building a house. He came here to\nlift and bring a tree; when handling the log it slipped and struck him\non the back of the neck, and paralysis has ensued.\"\n\nHe glanced at her face as if surprised at its gravity. She divined what\nhe thought, and speaking out of her intimate knowledge of the people\nand their ways she said, \"There's going to be trouble; no death of a\nviolent character comes apart from witchcraft.... Can you make some\nsort of a litter to carry him?\"\n\nDivesting himself of part of his clothing, and obtaining some strong\nsticks, he made a rough stretcher, on which the inert form was laid\nconveyed to Ekenge.\n\nFor a fortnight Mary tended the patient in his mother's house, hoping\nagainst hope that he would recover, and that the crisis she dreaded\nwould be averted, but he was beyond human help. One Sunday morning he\nlay dying, and the news sent a spasm of terror throughout the district.\nHearing the sound of wailing Mary rushed to the yard and found the lad\nbeing held up, some natives blowing smoke into his nostrils, some\nrubbing ground pepper into his eyes, others pressing Ms mouth open, and\nhis uncle, Ekpenyong, shouting into his ears. Such treatment naturally\nhastened the end. When life was fled, the chief dropped the body into\nher arms and shouted, \"Sorcerers have killed and they must die. Bring\nthe witch-doctor.\"\n\nAt the words every man and woman disappeared, leaving only the mother,\nwho, in an agony of grief, cast herself down beside the body. When the\nmedicine-man arrived he laid the blame of the tragedy upon a certain\nvillage, to which the armed freemen at once marched. They seized over a\ndozen men and women, the others escaping into the forest, and after\nsacking all the houses returned with the prisoners loaded with chains,\nand fastened them to posts in the yard, which had only one entrance.\n\nAnxious to pacify the rage of the chiefs, father and uncle, Mary\nundertook to do honour to the dead lad by dressing him in the style\nbefitting his rank. Fine silk cloth was wound round his body, shirts\nand vests were put on, over these went a suit of clothes which she had\nmade for his father, the head was shaved into patterns and painted\nyellow, and round it was wound a silk turban, all being crowned with a\ntall black and scarlet hat with plumes of brilliant feathers. Thus\nattired the body was carried out into a booth in the women's yard,\nwhere it was fastened, seated in an arm-chair, under a large umbrella.\nTo the hands were tied the whip and silver-headed stick that denoted\nhis position, while a mirror was arranged in front of him, in order\nthat he might enjoy the reflection of his grandeur. Beside him was a\ntable, upon which were set out all the treasures of the house,\nincluding the skulls taken in war, and a few candles begged from Mary.\n\nWhen the people were admitted and saw the weird spectacle they became\nfrenzied with delight, danced and capered, and started on a course of\ndrinking and wantonness.\n\n\"You'll have to stop all work,\" Mary said to Mr. Ovens, who felt as if\nhe were moving in some grotesque fantasy of sleep; \"this is going to be\na serious business. We can't leave these prisoners for a moment. I'll\nwatch beside them all night and you'll take the day.\"\n\nAnd time and time about in that filthy yard, through the heat of the\nday and the chill of the night, these two brave souls kept guard\nopposite the wretched band of prisoners, with the half-naked people,\narmed with guns and machetes, dancing drinking about them. As one\nbarrel of rum was finished another was brought in, and the supply\nseemed endless. The days went by, and Mr. Ovens lost patience, and\ndeclared he would go and get a chisel and hammer and free the prisoners\nat all costs. \"Na, na,\" replied Mary wisely, \"we'll have a little more\npatience.\"\n\nOne day she went to Mr. Ovens and said, \"They want a coffin.\"\n\n\"They'll have to make one,\" he retorted.\n\n\"I think you'd better do it,\" she rejoined; \"the boy's father has some\nwood of his own, of which he was going to make a door like mine, and he\nis willing to use it for the purpose.\"\n\nThey proceeded to the yard to obtain measurements, and as they entered\nMary caught sight of some es\u00e9r\u00e9 beans lying on the pounding stone. She\nshivered. What could she do! She returned to her hut. Prayer had been\nher solace and strength during all these days and nights, and now with\npassionate entreaty she beseeched God for guidance and help in the\nstruggle that was to come. When she rose from her knees her fear had\nvanished, and she was tranquil and confident. Reaching the yard she\ntook the two brother chiefs aside, and told them that there must be no\nsacrifice of life. They did not deny that the poison ordeal was about\nto take place, but they argued that only those guilty of causing the\ndeath would suffer. She did not reply, but went to the door of the\ncompound and sat down: from there she was determined not to move until\nthe issue was decided. The chiefs were angry. To have a white woman--\nand such a woman--amongst them was good, but she must not interfere\nwith their customs and laws. The mother of the dead lad became violent.\nEven the slaves were openly hostile and threatening. The crowd;\nmaddened by drink, ran wildly about, flourishing their guns and swords.\n\"Raise our master from the dead,\" they cried, \"and you shall have the\nprisoners.\"\n\nNight fell. Mr. Ovens gathered up the children and put them to bed.\nMary scribbled a note to Duke Town and gave it to the two native\nassistant carpenters, and directed them in English to steal in the\ndarkness to the beach and make their way down the river. There was\ndistraction within the yard as well as without. Three of the women were\nmothers with babies, who were crying incessantly from hunger and fear.\nAnother, who had chains round her neck and bare limbs, had an only\ndaughter about fifteen years of age, who was a cousin of the dead lad,\nand the betrothed wife of his father. The girl clung to her mother,\nweeping piteously. Sometimes she would come and clasp \"Ma's\" feet,\nbeseeching her to help her, or waylay the chiefs, and offer herself in\nservitude for life in exchange for her mother's freedom.\n\nMr. Ovens had gone to the hut, and Mary was keeping vigil when a stir\nwarned her of danger. Several men came and unlocked the chains on one\nof the women--a mother--and ordered her to the front of the corpse to\ntake the bean. Mary was in a dilemma. Was it a ruse to get her out of\nthe yard? If she followed, would they bar the entrance and wreak their\nvengeance on the others who remained? \"Do not go,\" they cried, and\ngazed at her pleadingly. But she could not see a woman walk straight to\ndeath.\n\nOne swift appeal to God and she was after the woman. The table was\ncovered with a white cloth, and upon it stood a glass of water\ncontaining the poison. As the victim was in the act of lifting the\nglass she touched her on the shoulder and whispered, \"_'Ifehe!_\" (run).\nShe gave a quick glance of intelligence into the compelling eyes and\noff both bounded, and were in the bush before any one realised they\nwere gone. They reached the hut. \"Quick,\" Mary cried to Mr. Ovens,\n\"take the woman and hide her.\" In a moment he had drawn her in and\nlocked the door, and Mary flew back to the yard. \"Where is she?\" the\nprisoners cried. \"Safe in my house,\" she answered. They were amazed.\nShe herself wondered at her immunity from harm. It might be that the\nnatives were stupefied with drink--but she thought of her prayer.\n\nFinding that she was not to be moved, the chiefs endeavoured to cajole\nand deceive her. \"God will not let anybody die of the bean if they are\nnot guilty,\" they said. They released two of the prisoners,\nsubstituting imbiam, the native oath, for the poison ordeal, and later,\nfive others. She still stood firm, and two more obtained their freedom.\nThere they stopped. \"We have done more for you than we have ever done\nfor any one, and we will die before we go further.\" Three remained. One\nwoman, with a baby, they would not release. \"Akpo, the chief of her\nhouse, escaped into the bush, and the fact of his flight proves his\nguilt,\" they argued; \"we cannot ransom her.\" The other two, a freeman\nand the woman named Inyam with the daughter, were relatives of the\nbereaved mother, and also specially implicated, and they were seized\nand led away. Mary hesitated to follow, but hoping that the girl might\nbe able to keep her informed of what was going on she decided to remain\nwith the woman with the infant.\n\nAnother dawn brought visitors from a distance, who only added to the\nrioting and her perplexity. They told her that Egbo was coming, and\nadvised her to fly to Calabar. She replied that he could come and play\nthe fool as much as he pleased, but she would not desert her post. The\nfather stormed and threatened, and declared he would burn down the\nhouse. \"You are welcome,\" she said, \"it is not mine.\" In a blazing\npassion he cried that the woman would die. So terrified and exhausted\nwas the victim that she begged \"Ma\" to give in. At this point Ma Eme\ncame to the rescue: kneeling to her brother she besought him to allow\nMary to have the prisoner in the meantime--she could be chained to the\nverandah of the hut, and could not possibly escape with such a weight\nof irons. Mary caught at the plan, and declared that she would give a\nfair hearing to the charges against the house which she represented.\n\nTo her infinite surprise the chiefs gave in. \"But,\" said they, \"if she\nis sent out of the way to Calabar, you pay a heavy fine, and leave here\nfor ever.\" Fearing they would repent, she hastily called for the keys\nto unlock the chain, but the slaves pretended ignorance, said they\ncould not find them, and denounced the liberation of the murderers.\nPatience and firmness again succeeded, the keys were produced, the\nlocks were opened. Mary gathered up the long folds of chain, and Ma\nEme, also trembling with eagerness, pushed them out in order that they\nmight escape the crowd. They ran through the scrub to the hut, and here\nthe mother and child were housed in a large packing-case, while a\nbarricade was put up to make the position more secure.\n\nDuring the afternoon two of the Calabar missionaries arrived, and added\nthe weight of their influence to Mary's, giving a magic-lantern\nexhibition in the open, and in other ways endeavouring to lend prestige\nto the funeral, in order to compensate for the lack of human sacrifice.\nA quieter night followed, though the vigil was unbroken. In the morning\nthe father of the dead lad called her aside, and in a long harangue\njustified his desire to do his son honour by giving him a retinue in\nthe spirit-land. Then calling to his retainers he ordered them to bring\nthe freeman. Dragging him forward, limping and dazed, he presented him\nformally to \"Ma,\" saying, \"This further act of clemency must satisfy\nyou. The woman who is left must take the poison: you cannot object--she\nwill recover if she is innocent.\"\n\nShe thanked him warmly, but renewed her entreaties for the release of\nthe woman also. The chief turned away in anger and disgust, and the\nbattle went on. As the missionaries were obliged to return to Calabar\nshe and Mr. Ovens were again left alone. All day she followed the\nchief, coaxing and pleading. Sometimes he ignored her; sometimes he\nbrusquely showed his annoyance; sometimes he looked at her in pity, as\nif he thought she were crazed. But he gave her no hope. When a whisper\ncame to her ears that the burial would take place that night in the\nhouse of the chief she was heart-sick with dread.\n\nLate in the evening, as she was busy with her household, she heard a\nfaint cry at the barricade:\n\n\"Ma, Ma, make haste, let me in.\"\n\nNoiselessly she pulled aside the planks, and Inyam, heavily ironed,\ncrawled on her hands and knees into the room. Her story was that she\nhad managed by friction to cut one of the links of the chain which\nbound her, and had escaped by climbing the roof. Mary looked at the\nthick chain hanging about her, and guessed whose were the kindly black\nhands that had given her aid, but she kept her thought to herself. The\nlast of the prisoners was now safe, the funeral in the house of the\nchief had taken place, and only a cow had been placed in the coffin,\nand her joy was great. But her troubles were not over.\n\nA party of natives coming to the funeral met another party returning\ndrunk with excitement and rum. Recalling some old quarrel the latter\nkilled one of the men they met, cut off his head, and carried it away\nas a trophy. Fighting became general between the factions, and many\nwere seriously wounded.\n\nOne afternoon the village went suddenly mad with panic. All the women\nand children and all the men without arms rushed frantically about.\nMothers clutched their babies, wives and slaves seized what belongings\nthey could carry, children screamed and held on to the first person\nthey met. They had heard sounds that heralded the advance of the\ndreaded Egbo. Then, by a common impulse, all rushed for the protection\nof the white woman's yard. She pulled down the barricade, packed as\nmany children and women into her room as it could hold, and ordered the\nothers into the bush at the back. The women were almost insane with\nterror, and the manacled prisoner begged to be killed. As the beating\nof the drum and the shouting of the mob drew near Mary trembled, but\nagain prayer restored her to calm. Even when the village was invaded\nand shouting began, she was without fear. And, strange to say, the mob\nremained but a short time, and not a shot went home. They had set fire\nto every house in the village from which the prisoners had been taken,\nand wrecked another and burned the stock alive. As no powerful chief\nsubmitted to Egbo sent out by another House, Edem's village also ran\namok, and for over a week the population haunted the forest, shooting\ndown indiscriminately every man and woman who passed. It was not until\nmuch blood had been shed that the various bands became tired of the\nstruggle and returned to their dwellings.\n\nFor three weeks the prisoners were kept in the hut, and then \"Ma's\"\npressure on the chiefs succeeded, and the chained woman was released on\ncondition that if her chief Akpo were caught he would take the poison\nordeal, whilst Inyam, taking advantage of all the people being drunk\none night, stole out into the forest and escaped. What became of her\nMary never knew, until one day, months after, when travelling, she\npassed a number of huts in the bush, and was accosted by name and found\nherself face to face with the refugee.\n\nThis was the longest and severest strain to which she was subjected; it\nwas her worst encounter with the passions of the natives, her greatest\nconflict with the most terrible of their customs, and she came out of\nit victorious. For the first time in the dark history of the tribe the\ndeath and funeral of one of the rank of a chief had occurred without\nthe sacrifice of life. In some mysterious way she had been able to\nsubdue these wild people and bend them to her will. Her fame went far\nand wide throughout Okoyong and beyond into regions still unexplored,\nand many thought of her with a kind of awe as one possessing superhuman\npower. There were, indeed, some amongst those who knew her who had a\nlurking suspicion that she was more than woman.\n\n\n\n\n                           XIV. THE AFTERMATH\n\nVarious incidents came as an aftermath to these happenings. One\nafternoon the women came running to \"Ma\" saying that the elder chief,\nEkpenyong, was bent on taking the poison ordeal. When she reached his\nyard she found him in a fury, shouting and threatening, the women\nremonstrating, the slaves weeping. It was some time ere she could learn\nthe cause of the uproar. A man from a neighbouring village had been\nabout whispering that Ekpenyong had slain his nephew, in order that his\nown son might absorb the inheritance. Ekpenyong was determined to\nundergo the test, and in accordance with native law, which gave the\nright to a freeman to call others of equal rank to share the trial with\nhim, he demanded that his brother Edem--who it was alleged had\ninstigated the man to make the accusation--should also take the poison.\n\nWhen Mary had grasped the situation she ridiculed the attitude of the\nchief, scolded him unmercifully, and at last secured his promise not to\ncarry out his threat. As a guarantee of his good faith she claimed\npossession of the es\u00e9r\u00e9 beans. He denied that he had any. With the help\nof his womenkind she made a secret search, and found eleven beans at\nthe bottom of a basket, which she conveyed in the darkness to her hut.\nAs more beans could not be obtained until the morning she felt that all\nwas well for the night. Shouting, however, made her run back. Mad with\ndrink the chief was clinging to a bag which the women were endeavouring\nto seize. He was hitting out at them with his heavy hand, and most of\nthem were bleeding. \"There is poison in that bag,\" they cried. \"No, Ma,\nonly my palm-nuts and cartridges.\" Quietly, firmly, persistently, she\ndemanded the bag. He threw it at her. Opening it she found palm-nuts\nand cartridges. For a moment she looked foolish, but diving deeper she\npulled out no fewer than forty of the deadly beans. \"I'll take the\nliberty of keeping these,\" she said coolly, but with a swiftly beating\nheart. \"No, no,\" he shouted, and his followers joined him in protest.\nOutwardly calm she walked between the lines of armed men, ironically\nbidding them take the bag from her. But their hands were held, and she\npassed safely through, reached her hut, handed the beans to Mr. Ovens,\nand returned to the scene to pacify the crowd.\n\nNext morning she learnt to her consternation that Ekpenyong had risen\nstealthily during the night and gone off on his errand of death.\nFortunately a chief some miles off detained him by force until she\narrived. She stuck resolutely to him, and as all the more powerful\nchiefs came over to her side from sheer admiration of her pluck, he had\neventually to abandon his purpose. After taking the native oath he\nbetook himself to another part of the forest, where he built up a new\nsettlement.\n\nOne more episode remained to round off the sequence of events. The\nmurderer of the young man in the funeral party was the oldest son of a\nHouse noted for bloody deeds, and the act roused the slumbering fury of\nits neighbours. War was declared and fighting began. Mary interfered\nand pressed for arbitration, and both sides at last acceded to her\nrequest, and asked her to conduct the palaver. Aware that the man was a\ntriple murderer and the penalty death, she shrank from the duty, and\nbegged them to put the matter into the hands of a Calabar chief. This\nthey did, and went to Ikunetu on the Cross River, where \"blood for\nblood\" was the verdict. Fines and death by substitution of slaves were\noffered and refused; the youngest son, a mere baby, was sent in\natonement and rejected; then the second son, a lad of twenty, was\ndespatched, and it was agreed that his death would redeem his brother.\nMary's distress was acute, especially as she had declined to act as\njudge, but she was relieved on learning that the prisoner had escaped,\nand was being sheltered by one of the slave-traders across the river.\nShe wished to get him into her own yard, but the weeping mother said it\nwas too dangerously near home.\n\nOne morning, early, she heard the sound of rapid firing, and in alarm\nshe sent messengers to enquire the cause. The lad had been betrayed,\nbrought back, filled with gin, and amidst discharge of guns, beating of\ndrums, singing and dancing, had been strangled and hung in the presence\nof his mother and sister. These two alone mourned the dead, the others\nwere glad that the matter had been so easily settled, and for a week\nthe loafers and drunkards in the district held high carnival.\n\nAs time passed and the heat of the persecution cooled, Mary made\ntentative proposals that Akpo, the escaped chief, and his family,\nshould be allowed to return. \"I will go and fetch them myself if their\nsafety be guaranteed,\" she said. Edem, the father of the dead lad,\nreplied, \"Very well, Ma, you can say that all thought of vengeance is\ngone from our heart, and if he wishes to come to his own village or\nlive in your home or go anywhere in Okoyong he is at liberty to do so.\"\nBut trust is rare in Africa, and suspicion dies hard, and Akpo could\nnot bring himself to believe that Edem wished him well, and he elected\nto remain where he was. Again she paid the exile a visit, taking with\nher an elderly man, who was betrothed to his daughter, but he could not\novercome his fears. In his heart he and his friends were incredulous\nthat the chiefs of Okoyong would listen to a woman. A third time the\npatient Mary went to him, and succeeded in bringing him and his son\nback with her, the women remaining behind until a new house could be\nbuilt.\n\nThe home-coming was fall of pathos. House, farm, clothing, seed-corn,\nyams, goats, fowls, all had vanished. But as the chief stood amidst the\nfamiliar surroundings his gloom and silence fell away, and he knelt and\nclasped \"Ma's\" feet, and with eyes filled with tears vowed that he and\nhis house would be under yoke to her for ever, and that they would\nnever rebel against any commands she gave or do anything contrary to\nher wishes. Most people, white and black, occasionally felt disposed to\ndispute her rulings, and more than once her will and that of the chief\nclashed, but he stood to his word, and there was no family in the\ndistrict who gave her message a more loyal hearing.\n\nEdem acted nobly. He not only arranged for the housing of the two men,\nbut gave them a piece of ground and seed for food plants. When she went\nto tell him all had been done, he simply said, \"Thank you, Ma.\" But in\nthe evening he came alone to her, knelt and held her feet, and thanked\nher again and again for her wonderful love and courage, for her action,\nin forbidding them to take life at his son's death, and for all the\npeaceful ways which she was introducing. \"We are all weary of the old\ncustoms,\" he said, \"but no single person or House among us has power to\nbreak them off, because they are part of the Egbo system.\"\n\nAnd one by one, secretly and unknown to each other, the free people\ncame to her and thanked her gratefully for the state of safety she was\nbringing about, and charged her to keep a stout heart and to go forward\nand do away with all the old fashions, the end of which was always\ndeath.\n\n\n\n\n\n                      XV. THE SWEET AND THE STRONG\n\nMeanwhile the Mission House had evolved into what was in her eyes a\nthing of beauty. She could at any rate boast that it was the finest\ndwelling in Okoyong, and it was a happy day when she removed\n\"upstairs.\" Nor was the house all that was accomplished during these\ntroublous times. Mr. Goldie had made her a gift of a canoe; but without\na boathouse it was exposed to rain and ants and thieves, and she\nplanned a shelter at the beach that would do both for it and for\nherself. Ma Eme brought her people to the spot, the men cut down trees\nand erected the framework, and the women dug the mud and filled in the\nwalls, and Mr. Ovens made a door and provided a padlock.\n\nThus, in the course of a short time, she had built a hut; a good house\nwith accommodation for children, servants, and visitors; a dispensary;\na church; and a double-roomed boathouse. All the native labour had been\ngiven cheerfully and without idea of money, but from time to time she\ndistributed amongst the workers a few gifts from the Mission boxes, or\na goat or a bag of rice. In addition to her house at Ekenge she had a\nroom in several of the villages, where she put up on her journeys; and\nit was characteristic of her that she secured these not for her own\nconvenience but for the sake of the people, in order that they might\nfeel that they were being looked after.\n\nIt was, indeed, for the people she lived. Mr. Ovens states that she was\nat their beck and call day and night; she taught in the schools,\npreached in the church, and, as he puts it, \"washed the wee bairnies\nherself,\" and dressed the most loathsome diseases, all with tenderness\nand gay humour. \"I never saw a frown on her face,\" he says. She was\nalways ready for anything and equal to any emergency. \"One morning,\" he\nrecalls, \"she came to me. 'Twins,' she said, 'and we have to go.' When\nwe arrived at the spot we found that the bairns had been murdered by\nthe grandmother, and the mother was lying on the bare ground in a hut\nsome distance away. Miss Slessor sent her a bed and pillow, and told\nher husband to be kind to her. The man took her back into the house--\nsuch a thing had never been known before.\"\n\nIt was at this time that the plump and pretty infant referred to by\nMiss Kingsley in her _Travels in West Africa_ was saved. The mother\ndied a few days after the birth, and as there was a quarrel between her\nfamily and that of the father the child was thrown into the bush by the\nside of the road leading to the market, and lay there for five days and\nsix nights.\n\nThis particular market is held every ninth day, and on the succeeding\nmarket-day, some women from the village by the side of Miss Slessor's\nhouse happened to pass along the path and heard the child feebly\ncrying: they came into Miss Slessor's yard in the evening, and sat\nchatting over the day's shopping, and casually mentioned in the way of\nconversation that they had heard the child crying, and that it was\nrather remarkable that it should be still alive. Needless to say Miss\nSlessor was off, and had that waif home. It was truly in an awful\nstate, but just alive. In a marvellous way it had been left by leopards\nand snakes, with which this bit of forest abounds, and, more marvellous\nstill, the driver ants had not scented it. Other ants had considerably\neaten into it one way and another; nose, eyes, etc., were swarming with\nthem and flies; the cartilage of the nose and part of the upper lip had\nbeen absolutely eaten into, but in spite of this she is now one of the\nprettiest black children I have ever seen, which is saying a good deal,\nfor negro children are very pretty with their round faces, their large\nmouths not yet coarsened by heavy lips, their beautifully-shaped flat\nlittle ears, and their immense melancholy deer-like eyes, and above\nthese charms they possess that of being fairly quiet. This child is not\nan object of terror, like the twin children; it was just thrown away\nbecause no one would be bothered to rear it--but when Miss Slessor had\nhad all the trouble of it the natives had no objection to pet and play\nwith it, calling it \"the child of wonder,\" because of its survival.\nThis child was named Mary after the house mother, and completed the\nnumber of those who for long constituted the inner circle of the\nfamily. The others were Janie, Alice--a rescued twin of \"royal\" blood,\nand Annie--the child of the woman who took a native oath to prove that\nshe did not help her husband to eat a stolen dog. These four were to\ngrow up and become a comfort to their white \"Mother,\" and will reappear\nfrom time to time in the course of the story. Another helper in the\nhouse at this time was Mana, a faithful girl, who had been caught by\ntwo men when going home from a spring, and brought to Okoyong and sold\nto Ma Erne. Other children there were, all with more or less tragic\nhistories, and all were looked after and trained and loved.\n\nBut Mary could be as stern and strong as her native granite when\ncombating evil. Mr. Ovens saw her repeatedly thrust brawny negroes away\nfrom the drink, taking them round the neck, and throwing them back to\nthe ground. An intoxicated man, carrying a loaded gun, once came to see\nher. She ordered him to put the weapon in a corner of the verandah. He\ndeclined. She went up, wrested the gun from him, placed it in a corner,\nand defied him to touch it. He went away, and came back every day for a\nweek before she gave it up. Another man came to her for medicine, and\nafter he had described his symptoms she brought a bottle of castor oil\nand told him to open his mouth. Fearful that it might be some sort of\nwitchcraft, he demurred. \"Ma\" simply gave him a smart box on the ear\nand repeated the order, whereupon he meekly took the stuff and went\nruefully away. About this time, also, she went and prevented two tribes\nfrom fighting: although her heart was beating wildly she stood between\nthem and made each pile their guns on opposite sides of her, until the\nheaps were five feet high. On another occasion she stopped and\nimpounded a canoe-load of machetes that were going up-river to be used\nin a war.\n\nMr. Ovens was struck by her mental power and wide outlook. Despite her\nincessant preoccupation with matters about her she never ceased the\ncultivation of intellectual interests. She was a loving student of the\nBible, a wide and discriminating reader, and she followed with a\nbrooding mind the development of world affairs throughout the world.\n\nBefore his work was finished Mr. Ovens began to suffer from the\nexposure, and she nursed him day and night through a serious illness.\nWhen he returned to Duke Town she missed his cheery company; her\nisolation and loneliness seemed intensified, and she was only sustained\nby her faith in the efficacy of prayer and by her communion with the\nFather, \"My one great consolation and rest,\" she wrote, \"is in prayer.\"\nSo invariably was she comforted: so invariably was she preserved from\nharm and hurt, that her reliance upon a higher strength became an\ninstinctive habit. It conquered her natural nervousness and\napprehension. She had frequently to take journeys through the forest\nwith the leopards swarming around her. \"I did not use to believe the\nstory of Daniel in the lions dens\" she often said, \"until I had to take\nsome of these awful marches, and then I knew it was true, and that it\nwas written for my comfort. Many a time I walked along praying, 'O God\nof Daniel shut their mouths,' and He did.\" If she happened to be\ntravelling with bearers or paddlers, she would make them sing and keep\nthem singing; \"And, _Etubom_\" (Sir, Chief, or White Man), she would\nsay, when telling her experiences, \"ye ken what like their singing is--\nit would frighten any decent respectable leopard.\" And yet in some\nthings she was as timid as a child. When travelling in the Mission\nsteam-launch she would bury her head in her hands and cry out in fear\nif the engine gave a screech or if the vessel bumped on a sandbank. She\nwas in terror all the time she was on board.\n\nIt was not possible for her to go on expending so much nervous force\nwithout a breakdown, and as attacks of fever were coming with\nincreasing frequency she began to think of her furlough. The difficulty\nwas to fill her place. In 1890 Mr. Goldie reported that only she or a\nman could fill it; no native agent could go from. Calabar on account of\ntribal unfriendliness. But she thought otherwise. \"No person connected\nwith me need fear to come to Okoyong, or suffer from lack of\nhospitality.\" Okoyong was a very different place from what it had been\nin 1888. There was greater order and security, and much less drinking\namong the younger people, many of whom were at school; none dared to\nuse the slightest freedom with, her; they might come as far as the\nverandah but no farther. The people were becoming ashamed of their\nsuperstition, and were ready to inform her secretly when palavers and\nsacrifices were in contemplation. Chiefs came voluntarily and requested\nher to sit in the seat of judgment and adjudge their disputes. The\ntribe, as a whole, was also working better, and developing a regular\ntrade with the Europeans. The problem was solved by another woman with\na stout heart, who voluntarily agreed to occupy the station during her\nabsence. This was Miss Dunlop. The Home Board were anxious as to her\nsafety, and recommended frequent communications with her; and later,\nMiss Hutton, who had just arrived from Scotland, was appointed to keep\nher company. When Miss Dunlop went up before \"Ma\" left, she was met by\nwhat she thought was a crowd of peaceful, cheerful--people, eager only\nto greet her and to help her. She modified her opinion later: a \"wild\nand lawless class,\" she called them, \"boasting of their wildness,\" and\nwho came to the services drunk. When she spoke of God's love they would\nsay, \"Yes, Ma Slessor tell us that plenty times.\" But she bravely held\nthe fort.\n\n\n\n\n                         XVI. WAR IN THE GATES\n\nAt the last moment she was busy packing when messengers arrived from a\nfar-off township with intelligence that a young freeman had\naccidentally shot his hand while hunting, and a request that she would\ncome to him with medicine. She was weak and ill: she was expecting\ntidings of the steamer; she was beset with visitors from all parts who\nhad come to bid her farewell. Telling them what to do, and asking them\nto let her know only if serious symptoms set in, she gave them what was\nneeded. Almost immediately came secret news that the man had died, that\nhis brother had wounded one of the chiefs, and that all the warriors of\nthe latter had been ordered to prepare for fighting on the morrow. She\nnever knew how this message had come or who had brought it. She made up\nher mind to proceed to the spot, but the chief people about her opposed\nthe idea. They pointed to her weakness, and the probability of her\nmissing the steamer. They enlarged on the savage character of those\nconcerned. \"They own no authority\"; \"They will insult you in their\ndrunken rage\"; \"The bush will be full of armed men, and they will fire\nindiscriminately;\" \"The darkness will prevent them recognising you.\"\nBut they could not prevail upon her to relinquish what she thought was\na duty to those who had sought her aid. She, however, compromised by\nconsenting to take two armed attendants with lanterns, and to call at a\nchief's place some eight miles distant, and secure a freeman to beat\nthe Egbo drum before her, thus letting the people in the fighting area\nknow that a free protected person was coming.\n\nShe reached their village about midnight. The chief was reported to be\nat his farm, and she was urged to lie down until the morning, She\nsuspected that he was not many yards away, and she persuaded a\nmessenger to carry an urgent request to him for an escort and drum. The\nreply was in the language of diplomacy all the world over:\n\n\"I have heard of no war, but will enquire regarding it in the morning.\nIf, in the event of there being war, you persist in going on you prove\nyour ignorance of the people, who from all time have been a war-loving\npeople, are not likely to be helped by a woman.\"\n\nThis put her on her mettle.\n\n\"In measuring the woman's power,\" she responded, \"you have evidently\nforgotten to take into account the woman's God.\"\n\nShe decided to go on. The people were astonished, not so much at her\nfolly in risking her life as in daring to disobey the despot, who held\ntheir fate in the hollow of his hand. Somewhat chilled by her\nunsympathetic reception she started, without much enthusiasm, on her\njourney, but with her faith in God as strong as ever.\n\nReaching the first town belonging to the belligerents she found it so\nsilent and dark that she began to imagine the chief was right, and she\nhad come on a wild-goose chase. She crept quietly up to the house of an\nold freewoman whose granddaughter had once lived with her: there was a\ncautious movement within and a whispered, \"Who's there?\" She had barely\nanswered, when she was surrounded by a band of armed men, whose dark\nbodies were like shadows in the night. In a few moments they were\njoined by scores of others, and the greatest confusion prevailed. She\nwas asked what her business was and who were her informants, but\nultimately the chiefs permitted her to remain, and the women saw to her\ncomfort.\n\nAfter conferring together the chiefs thanked her for coming at such\ndiscomfort to herself, and promised that no fighting, so far as they\nwere concerned, would take place until she heard the whole story.\n\n\"All the same,\" they averred, \"we must fight to wipe out the disgrace\nthat has been put on us-see here are men badly wounded. Now, Ma, go to\nbed, and we shall wake you at cock-crow, and you can accompany us.\"\n\nThis meant an hour's rest, which she urgently needed. At second cock-\ncrow she was called, but before she was steady on her feet they were\noff and away down the steep hillside and through the stream at the foot\nlike a herd of wild goats. The women were at every house.\n\n\"Run, Ma!\" they cried.\n\nRun! Was she not running as fast as her weak and breathless state\nallowed her? But she soon lost sight of the warriors, and could only\nfall back upon prayer.\n\nA hundred yards from the village of the enemy she came upon the band in\nthe bush making preparations for attack: the war-fever was at its\nheight, and the air resounded with wild yells. Walking quietly forward\nshe addressed them as one would speak to schoolboys, telling them to\nhold their peace and behave like men and not like fools. Passing on to\nthe village she encountered a solid wall of armed men. Giving them\ngreeting, she got no reply. The silence was ominous. Twitting them on\ntheir perfect manners she went up to them, and was about to force a\npassage. Then a strange thing happened.\n\nFrom out of the sullen line of dark-skinned warriors there stepped an\nold man, who came and knelt at her feet.\n\n\"Ma, we thank you for coming. We admit the wounding of the chief, but\nit was the act of one man and not the fault of the town. We beg you to\nuse your influence with the injured party in the interests of peace.\"\n\nIt was the chief whom she had travelled in the rain to see and heal\nwhen she first came to Okoyong. Her act of self-sacrifice and courage\nhad borne fruit after many days.\n\nShe was so thankful that her impulse was to run back to their opponents\nin the forest and arrange matters there and then; but she restrained\nherself, and, instead, purposely told the men with an air of authority\nto remain where they were while her wants were attended to.\n\n\"I am not going to starve while you fight,\" she said, \"and meanwhile\nyou can find a comfortable seat In the bush where I can confer with the\ntwo sides; choose two or three men of good address and good judgment\nfor the purpose.\"\n\nThey obeyed her like children.\n\nWhen the two deputies from the other side came forward, two chiefs laid\ndown their arms and went and knelt before them and held their feet\nsaying it was foolish and unjust to punish the whole district for the\naction of a drunken boy, begging them to place the matter before the\nWhite Ma, and expressing their willingness to pay whatever fine might\nbe imposed. She, too, knelt and begged that magnanimity might be shown,\nand that arbitration might be substituted for war. So novel a proposal\nwas not agreed to at once. The next few hours witnessed scenes of wild\nexcitement, rising sometimes to frenzy. Bands of men kept advancing\nfrom both sides and joining in the palaver, and every arrival increased\nthe indignation and the resolution to abide by the old, manlier way of\nwar. She was well-nigh worn out, but her wonderful patience and tact,\ncoupled with her knowledge of all the outs and ins of their character,\nagain won her the victory. It was agreed that a fine should settle the\nquarrel, and one was imposed which she thought exorbitant In the\nextreme, but the delinquents accepted it, and promptly paid part in\ntrade gin.\n\nHere was another peril. As the boxes and demijohns were brought forward\nand put down the mob began to grow excited at the thought of the drink.\nShe foresaw trouble and disaster, but though her voice was now too\nfeeble to be heard in the babel of sound, she was not yet at the end of\nher resources. Divesting herself of as many of her garments as was\npossible, she threw them over the stuff, thus giving it the protection\nof her own body, according to Egbo law.\n\nIt was a custom for providers of spirits which might have been tampered\nwith on the way from the boat, to taste the liquor in order to prove\nthat neither sorcery nor poison had been placed in it, and every man\nwanted to be the taster on this occasion. As soon as the test had been\napplied, every man on the other side likewise demanded the gin, and for\na time it seemed as if all had gone mad.\n\nMary seized the one glass which they held, and as each bottle was\nopened she dealt out to the older and chief men one glass only,\nresolutely refusing to give more, and placed the bottle under the cover\nof her garments. No one dared to touch the stuff. There was some\njostling around her, but a few of the men constituted themselves into a\nbodyguard, and by whip and drum kept the mob off. Amidst much tumult\nand grumbling and laughter at her sallies she got them to agree to\nleave the spirit in her charge on her declaring that she would be\nsurety for it arriving in their several villages in good time, and\nuntampered with.\n\nShe made them promise to go straight home and remain at peace during\nher furlough (a promise that was loyally kept); but there was one party\nshe was obliged to accompany for a mile or two. They had--declared that\nthey were ashamed to return \"like women,\" without having fought. They\nbegged her to allow them to have a \"small scrap,\" in order to prove\nthey were not cowards. Not till they were safely past the danger zone\ndid she leave them. She remained till night at the village. The feeling\nwas still too disturbed to permit of a regular service, but she spoke\nto them quietly of Christ as a Saviour: and then ordering all to their\nrest she set out, tired as she was, on her lonely tramp through the\nlong miles of forest path.\n\nShe found her baggage had gone, and that messengers had arrived to take\nher down to Duke Town.\n\n\n\n\n                        XVII. AMONG THE CHURCHES\n\nArriving in England la January 1891 with Janie, who proved a great\ncomfort and help, she went straight to Topsham to view the graves of\nher mother and sister. She was anxious to spend as much of her furlough\nas possible amongst the scenes and with the friends associated with her\nloved ones, and she secured and furnished a house. It possessed a fine\ngarden, and there, with the little black girl, she passed a quiet and\nrestful time until the autumn, when she went to Scotland, making her\nheadquarters at the home of her friend, Mrs. M'Crindle, now at Joppa.\nFor many months she was engaged on the deputation work which\nmissionaries on furlough undertake for the stimulation of the home\ncongregations. She had less liking than ever for addressing meetings,\nbut she did not shirk the duty. \"It is a trial to speak,\" she said;\n\"but He has asked me to, and it is an honour to be allowed to testify\nfor Him in any way, and I wish to do it cheerfully.\" She wanted also to\npersuade the women in the Church to give themselves up more whole-\nheartedly to Christ, and to consecrate themselves to His cause. No\ntrouble was too great if it served that purpose. As a halo of romance\nwas beginning to gather about her she was in great request; wherever\nshe went the interest of the meeting centred in her, and her visits\nwere often followed by the formation of a Zenana Mission Committee.\n\nNot always, however, did she satisfy expectations. She would talk\nfreely at the manse tea-table, especially if children were present, and\nbe led on to give vivid pictures of her life in the bush, so that the\ncompany would be still sitting entranced when the bell rang for the\nmeeting. Then a rush would be made to the hall, where impatient people\nwould be waiting to be thrilled by stories of heroic service. And what\nthey heard was an evangelistic address! The minister would look\ndisappointed, feeling that he could have done as well himself. But she\nsometimes deprecated surface interest, and said that if the heart was\nright and the life consecrated, mission work would be well supported\nwithout any adventitious aid.\n\nAfter addressing a meeting at Slateford near Edinburgh she was on the\nway to the station when a woman who had been in the audience took Janie\nand kissed her and pressed some money into her hand. Next day the\nminister received a letter inscribed:\n\n_\"For the lady who gave Janie the money and the kiss on the way to the\nstation.-M. M. Slessor.\"_\n\nEnclosed was a photograph of Janie and a letter in which she wrote:\n\nMY DEAR FRIEND--For such I must call you. Such a true womanly Christian\nspirit as you showed yesterday is one of the fruits of our holy\nChristianity--I thank you for loving and kissing the child--God bless\nyou, my dear sister. I may yet see you in the flesh. I will if I go\nback to Slateford. But I may be sure of meeting you in the Father's\nhouse when the shadows flee away and the everlasting glory has dawned.\n\nThe recipient kept the photograph and letter and still treasures them\nas mementoes of one of whom she never ceased to think and for whom she\nalways prayed. It was in such ways that she knit hearts to her.\n\nShe made many friends in the manses and in the homes of the members of\nthe Church, and greatly increased the interest in her work in Calabar,\nwith the result that after she returned a larger stream of\ncorrespondence and Mission boxes began to flow to Okoyong.\n\n\n\n\n                          XVIII. LOVE OF LOVER\n\nAware of her singleness of mind and aim in the service of Christ, and\nher whole-hearted devotion to the interests of the people of Okoyong,\nit came as a surprise to her friends to learn that she was engaged to\nbe married. The hidden romance was disclosed at a meeting of the\nMission Board in September.\n\nThe suitor for her hand was Mr. Charles W. Morrison, one of the\nteachers on the Mission staff, a young man from Kirkintilloch,\nScotland, then in his twenty-fifth year. His career at home had been a\nsuccessful one; he had been an active Christian worker, and when he\napplied to the Board for an appointment in Calabar he was accepted at\nonce and sent out to Duke Town. He was a man of fine feeling, with a\ndistinct literary gift. On the few occasions that he had seen Mary he\nwas attracted by the brilliant, unconventional little woman, and when\nshe was ill was very attentive and kind to her. Before she left on\nfurlough they had become engaged on the understanding that he would\ncome and live at Okoyong.\n\nShe made it clear to the Board that she had pledged her word to her\npeople not to leave them, and that she would not, even for her personal\nhappiness, break her promise, Mr. Morrison, she believed, would make a\nvery good missionary, and they would be able to relieve each other, as\nshe would remain at Okoyong when he was at home. The Board took time to\nconsider the proposal, and meanwhile Mary received the congratulations\nof her friends. Her replies indicate that there was no uncertainty in\nher own mind on the subject:\n\nI lay it all in God's hands, and will take from Him whatever He sees\nbest for His work in Okoyong. My life was laid on His altar for that\npeople long ago, and I would not take one jot or tittle of it back. If\nit be for His glory and the advantage of His cause there to let another\njoin in it I will be grateful. If not I will still try to be grateful,\nas He knows best.\n\nBoth were a little doubtful as to the action of the Board, and Mr.\nMorrison asked her whether, in the event of a refusal, she would\nconsent to return to Duke Town, Such a project, however, she would not\nentertain:\n\n\"It is out of the question,\" she explained to a friend. \"1 would never\ntake the idea into consideration, I could not leave my work for such a\nreason. To leave a field like Okoyong without a worker and go to one of\nten or a dozen where the people have an open Bible and plenty of\nprivilege! It is absurd. If God does not send him up here then he must\ndo his work and I must do mine where we have been placed. If he does\nnot come I must ask the Committee to give me some one, for it is\nimpossible for me to work the station alone.\"\n\nThe Board, seemingly, were not sure of the wisdom of the arrangement,\nand their decision was a qualified refusal. The work which Mr. Morrison\nwas doing at Duke Town, they said, was important, and they could not\nsanction his transference to Okoyong until full provision was made for\ncarrying it on effectively and to the satisfaction of the Calabar\nCommittee.\n\nWhen Mary was told the result she merely said, \"What the Lord ordains\nis right,\" and, apparently, dismissed the subject from her mind.\n\nMr. Morrison was, shortly afterwards, compelled to return to Scotland\non account of his health. A medical specialist advised him against\nresuming work in Calabar, and he offered for service in Kaffraria, but\nthere was no opening in that field, and to the regret and\ndisappointment of the Committee, who regarded him as an able and valued\nworker, he resigned. He went later to America and was living in a hut\namong the balsam woods of North Carolina when a fire took place in\nwhich his much-treasured literary papers were consumed. The loss\naffected him greatly, and hastened his death, which occurred shortly\nafterwards.\n\nAmongst the few treasured books which Mary left at the end were\nbattered copies of _Eugene Aram_ and _Sketches by Boz._ On the fly-leaf\nof one in her handwriting are the letters:\n\n           _C. W. M.\n           M. M. S._\n\n\nOn the other are signatures in their respective hands:\n\n          _C. MORRISON.\n           M. M. SLESSOR._\n\n\nLove of mother and sister had been lost to her long since, and now love\nof lover and husband was denied, and again she turned her face, alone,\ntowards the future.\n\n  _Yes, without cheer of sister or of daughter,\n    Yes, without stay of father or of son,\n   Lone on the land and homeless on the water,\n    Pass I in patience till my work be done._\n\n\n\n\n                      XIX. A LETTER AND ITS RESULT\n\nA sharp attack of influenza followed by\nbronchitis cut short her engagements. During her convalescence she one\nday took up the Missionary Record, and read a letter by the Rev. James\nLuke entitled \"An Appeal for Lay Missionaries for Old Calabar.\" Like\nher own writing it had a touch of style and originality, and her\ncomment was \"Splendid!\" But there was one incidental statement with\nwhich she did not agree. Mr. Luke called for two more artisan\nmissionaries--\"not to teach the trades; we haven't sufficient men for\nthat, even were Calabar ripe for such instruction.\" As the result of\nher own observation and experience she had often felt that something\nought to be done to develop the industrial capabilities of the natives.\nThe subject had not been lost sight of by the missionaries and the\nMission Board, and the latter had sought, by sending out competent\nartisans, to attend not only to the work required in connection with\nthe Mission but to train some of the native youths in the various\ndepartments of labour. There had, however, been no attempt to establish\nthe work on organised lines, and the remark which Mr. Luke made induced\nher to place the whole matter before the Church. She penned a long\nletter, the writing of which so exhausted her that she scarcely knew\nwhether or not the words were rightly spelled. It went to Dr. George\nRobson, then beginning his long and honourable editorship of the\n_Record_, and appeared in the next issue under the signature of \"One of\nthe Zenana Staff.\"\n\nIt was a letter which displayed all the qualities of missionary\nstatesmanship, was clear, logical, and vigorous in style, and glowed\nwith restrained enthusiasm. She pointed out that it was necessary to\nhelp the natives to become an industrial people as well as to\nChristianise them, and she combated the idea that they were not capable\nof being taught trades; their weak point no doubt was their want of\nstaying power, their lack of persistence in the face of difficulties,\nbut this could be accounted for by their history; their only rule and\nmode of life hitherto having been \"force of circumstance,\" The question\nof training them, however, was too large a problem for the unaided\nmissionary, too large even for the Mission Board; it was a matter for\nthe whole Church to take up. \"Let the science of the evangelisation of\nthe nations occupy the attention of our sermons, our congregations, our\nconferences, and our Church literature, and we will soon have more\nworkers, more wealth, more life, as well as new methods.\"\n\nSo earnest an appeal caused some stir in official circles. The Mission\nCommittee took up the subject, and after interviewing the missionaries\nwho were at home at the time, including herself, referred to Calabar\nfor information. As she had no further connection with the matter the\noutcome may be briefly noted here. The Calabar Committee were\nfavourable to any scheme of industrial training, and the local\nGovernment also expressed their willingness to assist. After the Rev.\nDr. Laws, of Livingstonia, and the Rev. W. Risk Thomson, had gone out\nand reported on the situation and outlook, the proposal rapidly took\nshape, and the Hope Waddell Training Institute--thus called after the\nfounder of the Mission--came into being, and was soon performing for\nWest Africa the same valuable service that Lovedale and Blythswood were\ndoing for South Africa. She never took any credit for her part in\npromoting the undertaking, and never made a single reference to it in\nher letters. She was content to see it realised....\n\nMedical advice sent her down to Devon to recruit. She did not complain\nor worry about the readjustment of her plans. \"We alter things for the\ngood of our children,\" she said, \"and God does the same to us.\" With\nJanie she left for Calabar in February 1892, the Congregational Church\nat Topsham bidding her farewell at a public meeting convened in her\nhonour.\n\n\n\n\n                         XX. THE BLOOD COVENANT\n\nIt was strange, even for her, to pass from the trim, well-ordered life\nof Britain into the midst of West African heathenism,--to find waiting\nfor her in her yard two refugees who, being charged with witchcraft,\nhad been condemned to be sold and killed and preserved as food,--to be\ninterviewed by a slave woman who had been bought by an Okoyong chief as\none of his many wives, after having been the wife of other two men, one\nof whom had been disposed of to the cannibal tribe, whilst her boy had\nbeen carried to Calabar in bondage. Such were the conditions into which\nshe was once more plunged.\n\nThe majority of the people admired and trusted hers and gave her\nimplicit obedience, but there were some who avoided and feared her, and\nsought to undermine her authority and perpetuate the old customs. Her\nown chiefs remained staunch, and Ma Erne, although a heathen, continued\nto be her truest friend and best ally. It was to her that Mary was\nstill mainly indebted for news of what was going on. If there was any\ndevilry afoot she would send a certain bottle to the Mission House with\na request for medicine. It was a secret warning that she was to be\nready to act at a moment's notice. As a result of these hints she was\nable to prevent many a terrible crime. On one occasion, when the\nnatives were seeking to compass a man's death, she lay down without\nundressing for a month of nights, ready to set out, and the first night\nshe took off her clothes and endeavoured to obtain a good sleep she was\ncalled. And just as she was she set out for the scene. The chiefs began\nto think it was useless to hoodwink or browbeat the wonderful woman who\nseemed to know their inmost thoughts and all their hidden plans.\n\nSometimes, when she received the intimation that a palaver was\nbeginning, and that a fight was imminent, she would not be ready, and\nwould resort to stratagem: she would seize a large sheet of paper and\nscribble some words--any words--upon it and add some splashes of\nsealing--wax to make it look important. This she would despatch by a\nswift runner to the chiefs, and by the time they had discussed the\nmysterious official--looking document, which none of them, could read,\nshe would come on the scene and allay the excitement and settle the\ndispute.\n\nOne of her favourite devices during palavers was to knit. She fancied\nthat the act kept her from being nervous, as well as from showing fear,\nwhile the sight of the knitting going quietly and steadily on, in the\nmidst of uproar, helped to calm the excitement. She used to say that it\nwas only during these long palavers that she could get some knitting\ndone. We can well believe this when we are told by an official that on\none occasion she stayed knitting and listening the whole of one day and\nnight, until the opposing powers became hungry, and retired without a\nfight.\n\nThe story of one of these knitting palavers must suffice. Shortly after\nshe returned she wished to settle an important dispute that had been\ngoing on for a time between two sections of the Okoyong people. Three\nyears before, a gathering such as she summoned would have been\nimpossible--they would have laid down \"medicine\" and fought. She\ntrembled to go, and longed for some of the Calabar missionaries to come\nup and accompany her. But God gave her peace. After a sleepless night\nshe started with her knitting material, and reaching the clearing in\nthe forest passed alone through the guards of armed men. Every chief\nwas there, dressed in all the colours of the rainbow,--thanks chiefly\nto Mission boxes,--each sitting under a huge umbrella of blue and red\nand yellow silk, with from twenty to fifty of his men forming a cordon\nabout him, all with guns loaded and swords hanging from their sides.\n\nThe sky was sober and grey, and the magnificent foliage overhead made\nthe atmosphere cool and sweet. A chair was placed for her beside the\noldest chief, in the centre, with the one party on the right and the\nother on the left. But first she moved from one group to the other,\ndrawing laughter as she went with her jokes and by-play, and trying to\nlessen the tension that all experienced. Then she took her seat,\nstarted her knitting, and the business began. A word from her was\nsufficient to check any outburst of feeling, but she only spoke now and\nthen, in order to elicit information or to make clear a bit of\nevidence.\n\nTime was nothing to these men, and, accustomed to one square meal a\nday, they did not mind a long sitting; but Mary knew what backache and\nchill and hunger were and she was often tempted to tell them to keep to\nthe point, but it would have been of no avail.\n\nNight fell, torches were lit, the voices waxed louder, the excitement\nspread, until Mary felt that matters were getting out of hand, and\nbrought the issue to a head. An old chief summed up, and did so with\nrare tact and patience and good humour. She gathered up the main points\nand gave her verdict, which was unanimously adopted with ringing\ncheers. A native oath had now to be taken to ratify the agreement, and\nthe necessary materials were sent for--a razor, corn, salt, pepper, and\nrum. A freeman from, each side was called forward, and after divesting\nthemselves of all superfluous clothing they knelt at her feet and\nclasped each other's fingers. Another made an incision with the razor\non the back of their hands, and when the blood had flowed a little\nsalt, pepper, and corn were laid upon the wounds. Then out of courtesy\nto \"Ma,\" they asked her to say a prayer. But she always witnessed the\noath under protest, recognising that they knew no better way, and she\nwould not comply with their request, though she offered no objection to\none of the chiefs praying. After the terrible oath formula had been\nrepeated, the two men sucked up the blood-saturated ingredients and\nswallowed them, and the covenant was ratified. Relieved from the\nstrain, the whole assemblage became suddenly smitten with the spirit of\nfun. The proceedings were over before midnight, and after a tea hours'\nsitting Mary began her homeward journey of four miles, tired and\nhungry, but happy.\n\n\n\n\n                          XXI. \"RUN, MA! RUN!\"\n\nHer letters at this time bear witness to the strenuous character of the\nlife she led. They often begin with a description of household events:\nthen a break will occur: the next entry starts with \"It is many days\nsince I had to leave off here,\" and then follows an account of some\nsudden journey and adventure. Another interruption will take place,\ncaused by some long palaver or rescue: and the end will be a remark\nsuch as this: \"So, you see, life here, as at home, is just a record of\nsmall duties which occupy the time, and task the strength without much\nto show for it.\"\n\nHere are some incidents which reveal to us the nature of what she\ndeemed her \"commonplace\" work:\n\n\n 1. _A Forest Vigil_\n\n\"Run, run, Ma! there is something going on!\" was the significant\nmessage. \"Where?\" She was told, and went straight off. A chief had\ndied, and the people were administering the poison ordeal at a spot\ndeep in the forest, in order to avoid her interference. She arrived\nbefore the proceedings began, and for four days and four nights she\nremained there constantly on the watch. Her clothes were never off--and\nonly those who have lived in tropical lands know what this means. All\nthe rest she allowed herself was a short half-slumber, as she lay upon\nsome plantain fronds. The men would not leave the spot, hoping to tire\nher out, and at night they lit fires to keep off the wild beasts of\nprey, and slept about her. In these long hours she was often afraid,\nnot of the armed men, but of the wild creatures of the bush that came\ncreeping up, and with sombre eyes stared at her for a moment ere they\nslunk away from the flames. Such courage and endurance could not be\nwithstood,--in the end the people gave in and life was saved.\n\n\n 2. _Egbo_\n\nShe was sitting quietly in the house, thinking she was alone, when a\nstealthy step behind made her look round: it was a woman, followed by\nothers all crowding in as smoothly as tigers. \"Run, Ma! run!\" they\nsaid. The words were no sooner spoken than Mary was down the stair and\nout in the open \"square,\" where she found a number of men pulling about\nand frightening the slaves and women. She seized hold of one fellow and\nlocked him in her yard, and the act brought quiet. The mob turned out\nto be Egbo from a far-off town, come to sue for a debt due by a widow,\nwho had already given up everything to liquidate it. She knew the\npeople, had been kind to them, and had induced them to trade with\nCalabar. She at once ordered them out of the place, and made them\nrestore the property they had seized, and in a short time the matter\nwas settled,\n\n\n 3. _Robbers_\n\nOne day she was busy standing on a box plastering a wall when the\nwarning cry came, \"Run, Ma! run!\" The villagers had gone off with their\narms and were fighting a band of plunderers, who had stolen two slave-\ngirls and two slave-men from Ma Eme's farm. Washing the mud off her\nhands and face she ran to the scene, and all next day, Sunday, she was\nsitting in the midst of a drinking mob trying to keep down their\npassions, and succeeded at last in finding a pacific solution.\n\n\n 4. Twins\n\nAgain the cry, \"Run, Ma! run!\" this time from two boys. It was a case\nof twins born of a Calabar mother, who had come to Okoyong after trade\nbegan. The father and his womenkind were furious, and the mother lay\ndeserted and alone. Mary took the two babies into her lap, and as they\nwere Calabar twins sent word to the elder chief. The answer she\nreceived was \"Ahem!\" But the messenger added, \"A big lady said, 'Why\ndon't you take the twins to Calabar?'\"\n\nShe next sent to the younger chief, and asked him to come and confer\nwith her at a distance.\n\nAfter two hours' weary waiting the reply was, \"I am not coming, what\nshould I come for? Should I tell my Mother what to do? Let her do what\nshe sees fit.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Mary, \"as one chief says, 'Ahem' and the other gives no\ncommand, I shall take the children by a back road to my own house, and\nduring the night the mother can follow, and we will see how things turn\nround.\"\n\nOn being told that she had brought twins to the house Edem groaned and\nsaid, \"Then I cannot go to my Mother's house any more. Are they\nupstairs?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the messenger, \"and they are in her own bed.\"\n\nHe groaned again, \"No, no, I cannot ever go any more.\"\n\nMary went to his yard to see a sick baby, whom she had nursed back from\ndeath's door after the witch-doctors had done their best with their\ncharms and medicine, but the mother held the child tightly in her arms\nand said, \"Ma, you shall not touch her!\" She turned away, her heart\nsore.\n\nOn the Sunday rain fell all day, and she could not leave one of the\nchildren who was ill, but in the late evening she took two lanterns and\nwent to the roadside and held a short service with the few prepared to\ncome, and who huddled together in the rain. But none of them guessed\nhow near to tears the speaker was. She felt the alienation from her\npeople keenly; it was the greatest trial that had come to her, but she\nwas resolved not to give in.\n\nOne of the twins died, and some days later Edem offered her a present\nof yams, but she declined the gift, as it might be mistaken for a bribe\nto her conscience. He remonstrated, but she remained firm, although it\ncost her much. Gradually, however, he and his House showed contrition,\nand the shadow passed away.\n\nThen a chief from another village came, also with a present of yams.\nGoing on his knees he held her feet and begged her not to give up the\nchild. \"You are our Mother; and a woman has proved stronger than all\nthe men of the tribe: we will be able to believe in all you ask us by\nand by, but have patience with us.\"\n\nWhen he was gone a message came: \"A chief from a distance wants to see\nyou; come for a little.\"\n\nThis man was from a turbulent part of Okoyong and given to fighting and\nplundering.\n\n\"I live in my house as ever I did,\" was her spirited reply; \"and if any\none wishes to see me I am here.\" She felt pretty sure of her ground,\nthough she could not help trembling for the result.\n\nThe strangers arrived, and Edem with them, and chairs and mats were\nplaced for them in the court. To her surprise she was asked for her\nadvice, and the visitor went away convinced that the new ways were\nbetter than the old.\n\nThe elder chief, Ekpenyong, next sent and begged for forgiveness. \"The\nMother cannot keep a strong heart against her son. Are you not the hope\nand strength and counsellor of my life? Forgive me, for it was\nfoolishness, I have not been taught from my youth, and have never seen\na twin.\"\n\nThus good came out of the trial, and the bonds that bound her to the\npeople were strengthened. What was still more remarkable than the\nattitude of the chiefs was the fact that the husband took the twin-\nmother and the surviving child home.\n\n\n 5. _The Poison Bean_\n\nA slave woman of importance who occupied a position of trust died\nsuddenly. When her master was told he flew into a passion and\ndespatched a messenger to Mary with the rude intimation that \"somebody\nhereabouts knew how to kill people.\" She returned a curt reply, and he\nsent an apology. The next development was the appearance of some chiefs\nand a crowd of armed men in her yard. With them was a young man, not a\nfavourite of hers, to whom they attributed the woman's death. She\nquestioned him, and he asserted that he had not seen the woman for\nmonths, and knew nothing of the supposed witchcraft; but he would take\nthe poison bean, and, he added vindictively, if he did not die he would\nsee that they paid for the outrage. She sent a message by the chiefs to\nthe owner of the woman to dissuade him from inflicting the extreme\ntest. There was the usual period of uproar, and on her part the usual\nrecourse to prayer, and then back came the chiefs with the astonishing\nreply:\n\n\"I have heard. I understand that the Mother is determined in her way.\nWhat can I do but submit.\"\n\nInstead of death the sequel was a feast, a goat was killed, drink\nprocured, and dancing was indulged in all night. Next day the young man\nwent home to his aged mother.\n\n\n 6. _Runaway Slaves_\n\nOne day when she was baking, a man and his wife, slaves of a chief in\nthe neighbourhood, came to the door of the Mission House, and after\ngiving compliments squatted down with the air of people who had come to\nstay.\n\n\"Well, what is the matter?\" she asked. She knew the woman had a child,\nwhich could not have been left at home.\n\nA long tale was told. The woman had been in the field all morning\nhoeing grass: as the sun rose she and her child grew hungry and she\nwent home to cook some food. As she was doing so her master, who was\nnot a favourite either with bond or free, unexpectedly appeared, and\nangrily ordered her back to her work. She protested that she needed\nfood, but, brandishing a sword, he frightened her into flight. Her\nhusband, a palm-oil worker, heard the noise, and came on the scene,\nstopped her, and told her to return and take the food. \"What does it\nmatter?\" he remarked, \"we are his; he can kill us if he likes; we have\nnothing to live for.\" The master, enraged, seized a gun and fired at\nthe man, but missed. Taking hold of the screaming child he declared he\nwould kill it and went off.\n\nIt was a simple case, but required delicate handling. She sent one of\nher girls to the chief with the message that his slaves were in her\nyard, and that as they were householders and elderly people and\nparents, she hoped there would be no palaver, and that he would take\nthem back.\n\n\"I will come to-morrow,\" was the reply.\n\nThe runaways slept in the yard and held something of the nature of a\nreception, the other slaves coming and condoling with them as the poor\ndo with each other all the world over. It was like a scene from _Uncle\nTom's Cabin_. One moment the company would encourage them cheerily,\nurging them to have patience, then came a string of doleful tales, then\na gush of warm sympathy, and next a burst of laughter, followed by a\nshower of tears.\n\nNext day their master did not appear, and they went to work on the\nstation grounds. The woman was fretting for her child, and Mana, one of\nthe girls, was sent with another message, to the effect that if he\ncould not come himself he must, for the woman's sake, send on the babe.\nThe messenger brought back the news that he was on his way, but was\ntipsy, and breathing out dire threats against everybody. When Mary\nheard that three of his wives were with him, and that her own chief had\njoined the party, her mind was at ease.\n\nHis first act was to lie down at her feet. \"Ma,\" he said, \"you are the\nowner not only of my head but of all my house and my possessions. These\nwretched slaves did well to come to you\"--and so forth.\n\nShe sent for a chair and a palaver of several hours began. The master\nsometimes lost control of himself and charged the slave with being full\nof sorcery and responsible for all the deaths of recent years. Shaking\nhis fist in the man's face he cried:\n\n\"If it wasn't for the reign of the white woman I would cut you in two!\nThe white woman is your salvation.\"\n\nThe slave biased with passion, but Mary entreated him to be calm. She\nset the matter in the best light. Both had been angry and behaved as\nangry people usually do, saying and doing things which in their saner\nmoods they would have avoided. Alternately scolding and beseeching, and\nthrowing in a few jokes occasionally, she at last said both must go\nhome, the master to restrain himself, and the slaves to work faithfully\nand not to provoke him, as he had troubles of which they were unaware.\n\nThus with wise words she pacified them, and when she had given them a\nfew presents they went off in great good humour. The slaves found that\nduring their absence thieves had stolen their goats and fowls, but the\nreturn of the child compensated for the loss, and in their gratitude\nthey sent \"Ma\" a gift of food.\n\n\n 7. _Spoilt Fashions_\n\nA woman was seized on the assumption that she was concerned in the\ndeath of a girl, and Mary watched day and night until the burial was\nover. A goat was killed and placed in the grave, along with cloth,\ndishes, pots, salt, a lamp, a lantern, and a tin case of cooked food.\nBut her presence prevented any one being murdered to bear the dead\ncompany. \"Ma!\" said a freeman reproachfully, \"you have spoiled our\nfashions. Before you came, a person took his people with him: now one\nmust go alone like this poor girl; you have confused Okoyong too much.\"\nThe woman who was seized was allowed to take the native oath, praying\nthat if she had a hand in the girl's death _mbiam_ should eat her and\ncorrupt her body until she died.\n\n\n 8. _The Cost_\n\nMr. W. T. Weir, who had joined the Mission staff, paid her a visit one\nday, and they were enjoying a cup of tea when she suddenly became alert\nand said, \"There's something wrong, they will be here in a moment.\" The\nwords were hardly spoken when they heard the pit-pat of bare feet\nrunning towards the house. A number of natives appeared, and placing\ntheir hands on the floor shouted, \"Ma! come! come! come!\"\n\nShe said to her guest, \"Come on.\" They reached a large compound filled\nwith people excitedly shouting and gesticulating. On one side of the\nyard lay a girl on a mud slab who seemed to be ill, and opposite was\nher mother, in appearance a fiend incarnate. It appeared that the girl,\nthe daughter of an old chief, had taken a fainting fit, and the mother,\nwho had once been a refugee in \"Ma's\" yard, was blaming people for\ntaking her life.\n\nMr. Weir examined the girl, and said there was nothing much wrong, but\nshe was terribly excited with the noise. Mary at once said, \"I'll get\nquietness,\" and springing into the middle of the compound she seemed to\nexert her utmost will-power, and, crying in the native manner, \"_Soi,\nwara do_\" (Shoo, go out there!), pointed to the door. In a moment, men,\nwomen, and children, including the staid old chief of the village, and\nthe girl's mother, struggled with each other to get out of the\ncompound. The scene reminded Mr. Weir of nothing so much as a lot of\nsheep being hurried through a gate by a dog. She then came to where he\nstood. She was trembling from head to foot, and as she sat down she\nremarked, \"I am done for this day.\" The girl was taken over to the\nMission House, and under her care made a quick recovery....\n\nNever in all her dealings with the tribes was she molested in any way.\nOnce only, in a compound brawl, in which she intervened, was she\nstruck, but the native who wielded the stick had touched her\naccidentally. The cry immediately went up that \"Ma\" was hurt, and both\nsides fell on the wretched man, and would have killed him had she not\ngone to the rescue.\n\n\n\n\n                        XXII. A GOVERNMENT AGENT\n\nIn these years far-reaching changes were taking place in regard to the\npolitical status and destiny of the country. Hitherto the British\nGovernment had exercised only a nominal influence over the coast\ndistricts. A consul was stationed at Duke Towns but he had no means of\nexercising authority, and the tribes higher up the Cross River would\nwar upon one another, block the navigation, and murder at will. In 1889\nthe Imperial Government took steps to arrange for an efficient\nadministration, and despite difficulties incidental to the absence of a\ncentral native authority succeeded in obtaining the sanction of the\nprincipal chiefs to the establishment of a protectorate--the Niger\nCoast Protectorate. In 1891 Sir Claude Macdonald, who had carried out\nthe negotiations, was appointed Consul--General. No man was better\nfitted to lay the foundations of British authority in so backward a\nterritory. The period of transition from native to civilised rule\nbrought to the surface many delicate and perplexing problems requiring\ntact, skill, and unwearied patience, but the task was successfully\naccomplished, though not without an occasional display of force. It was\na special cause of thankfulness to the missionaries that Sir Claude was\nin full sympathy with their work, and co-operated with them in every\nscheme for the benefit of the people. When he was promoted to Pekin,\nthe Foreign Mission Board in Scotland expressed their sense of the\nvalue of his efforts in promoting the welfare of the native population.\n\nSir Claude appointed vice-consuls for the various districts, and was\nproposing to send some one to Okoyong. Miss Slessor knew that her\npeople were not ready for the sudden introduction of new laws, and that\nthere would be trouble if an outside official came in to impose them.\nSir Claude took her point of view, and recognising her unique position\nand influence, empowered her to do all that was necessary, and to\norganise and supervise a native court. He then left her very much to\nherself, with the result that the inevitable changes were felt least of\nall in Okoyong, where they were made through a woman whom the chiefs\nand people implicitly trusted. Her position was akin to that of a\nconsular agent, and she conducted all the public affairs of the tribe.\nShe presided at the native court. Cases would be referred to her from\nDuke Town, and she would travel over Okoyong to try these, taking with\nher the consular messenger, who carried back her decision to\nheadquarters for official signature. Crowds of the natives also visited\nher to consult her regarding the readjustment and co-ordination of\ntheir customs with the new laws, and she was able to settle these\nmatters so quietly that little was heard of her achievements. Although\nshe rendered great service in this way, creating public opinion,\nestablishing just laws, and protecting the poor, it was a work she did\nnot like, and she only accepted it because she thought it in line with\nher allegiance to Christ.\n\nHer duties brought her in contact with the officials of the country.\nGovernment men came to see her, and were not only amazed at her\npolitical influence, but charmed with her original qualities. One of\nthese, Mr. T. D. Maxwell, for whom she had a great regard--\"a dear\nladdie\" she called him--writes:\n\nWhat sort of woman I expected to see I hardly know; certainly not what\nI did. A little frail old lady with a lace or lace-like shawl over her\nhead and shoulders (that must, I think, have been a concession to a\nstranger, for I never saw the thing again), swaying herself in a\nrocking-chair and crooning to a black baby in her arms. I remember\nbeing struck--most unreasonably--by the very strong Scottish accent.\nHer welcome was everything kind and cordial. I had had a long march, it\nwas an appallingly hot day, and she insisted on complete rest before we\nproceeded to the business of the Court. It was held just below her\nhouse. Her compound was full of litigants, witnesses, and onlookers,\nand it was impressive to see how deep was the respect with which she\nwas treated by them all. She was again in her rocking-chair surrounded\nby several ladies-and babies-in-waiting, nursing another infant.\n\nSuddenly she jumped up with an angry growl: her shawl fell off, the\nbaby was hurriedly transferred to some one qualified to hold it, and\nwith a few trenchant words she made for the door where a hulking,\noverdressed native stood. In a moment she seized him by the scruff of\nthe neck, boxed his ears, and hustled him out into the yard, telling\nhim quite explicitly what he might expect if he came back again without\nher consent. I watched him and his followers slink away very\ncrestfallen. Then, as suddenly as it had arisen the tornado subsided,\nand (lace shawl, baby, and all) she was again gently swaying in her\nchair. The man was a local monarch of sorts, who had been impudent to\nher, and she had forbidden him to come near her house again until he\nhad not only apologised but done some prescribed penance. Under the\npretext of calling on me he had defied her orders--and that was the\nresult.\n\nI have had a good deal of experience of Nigerian Courts of various\nkinds, but have never met one which better deserves to be termed a\nCourt of Justice than that over which she presided. The litigants\nemphatically got justice--sometimes, perhaps, like Shylock, \"more than\nthey desired\"--and it was essential justice unhampered by legal\ntechnicalities. One decision I recall--I have often subsequently wished\nthat I could follow it as a precedent. A sued B for a small debt. B\nadmitted owing the money, and the Court (that is \"Ma\") ordered him to\npay accordingly: but she added, \"A is a rascal. He treats his mother\nshamefully, he neglects his children, only the other day he beat one of\nhis wives with quite unnecessary vehemence, yes and she was B's sister\ntoo, his farm is a disgrace, he seldom washes, and then there was the\npalaver about C's goat a month ago. Oh, of course A didn't steal it, he\nwas found not guilty wasn't he?--all the same the affair was never\nsatisfactorily cleared up, and he did look unusually sleek just about\nthen. On the other hand, B was thrifty and respectable, so before B\npaid the amount due he would give A a good sound caning in the presence\nof everybody.\"\n\n\n\n\n          XXIII. \"ECCENTRICITIES,\" SPADE-WORK, AND DAY-DREAMS\n\nDoes it seem as if we were watching the career of a woman of hard,\nself-reliant, and masculine character, capable of living by herself and\npreferring it, and unconscious of the natural weakness of her sex? In\nreality Mary was a winsome soul, womanly in all her ways, tremulous\nwith feeling and sympathy, loving love and companionship, and not\nunacquainted with nervousness and fear.\n\nWhen people saw, or heard of her, toiling with her hands they were apt\nto imagine that she possessed a constitution of iron, never realising\nthat her life was one long martyrdom. She was seldom free from illness\nand pain. Whether her methods of life were partly responsible for this\ncannot be stated. In any case, she seemed able to do things that would\nhave proved fatal to other people. She never used mosquito-netting,\nwhich is considered to be indispensable for the security of health in\nthe tropics. She never wore a hat, which seems a miracle to those who\nknow the strength of the sun in these regions. Her hair she kept cut\nclose, partly because it was a cleanlier fashion, and partly because it\nwas less trouble to look after. Shoes and stockings, also, she never\nwore, although jiggers and snakes and poisonous plants were common in\nthe bush pathways. Mr. James Lindsay, who was the engineer of the\nMission at this time, says, \"I walked many miles with her through the\nbush, and only once did I know her to be troubled with her feet. She\nhad been to Duke Town, attending Presbytery, and made some small\nconcession to the conventions by wearing a pair of knitted woollen\nslippers. On returning to Okoyong through the bush, small twigs and\nsticks penetrated the wool and pricked her feet. With an expression of\ndisgust she took the slippers off and threw them into the bush. That\nwas the only time I saw her other than barefoot.\" She never boiled or\nfiltered the water she drank, two precautions which Europeans do not\nomit without suffering. She ate native food, and was not particular\nwhen meals were served. Breakfast might be at seven one morning and at\nten the next; dinner might be an hour or two late; but this was, of\ncourse, mainly due to the constant calls upon her time, for she was\noften afoot most of the night, and her days were frequently taken up\nwith long palavers.\n\nThese habits, so seemingly eccentric to people lapped In the civilised\norder of things, grown naturally out of the circumstances into which\nshe had been forced In pursuit of the task she had set herself. She had\ndeliberately given up everything for her Master, and she accepted all\nthe consequences that the renunciation, involved. What she did was for\nHim and as she was not her own and had taken Him at His word and\nbelieved that He would care for her if she kept in line with His will,\nshe went forward without fear, knowing that she might, through\ninadvertence, incur suffering, but willing to bear it for His sake and\nHis cause. Her faith devotion led her into strange situations, and\nthese shaped the character of her outward life and habits. She shed\nmany conventions, simply because it was necessary in order to carry out\nthe will of Christ. She knew there were some people like the official\nwho saw her pushing a canoe down to the river and preferred not to know\nher; but she was always sustained by the knowledge that she was acting\nin her Master's spirit. She found in her New Testament that He ignored\nthe opinion of the world, and she was never afraid to follow where He\nled. \"What,\" says Mr. Lindsay, \"she lost in outward respectability she\nmore than gained in mobility and usefulness. She kept herself\nuntrammelled in the matter of dress that she might be ready for any\nemergency. In of a sudden call in the night to some distant village\nwhere twin children had been thrown out or a bloody quarrel was\nimminent, she was literally ready to leave at a moment's notice.\" The\none thing essential to her was her work, and anything that hampered her\nfreedom of action was dropped.\n\nNot that she was thoughtlessly reckless of her health. She frequently\nwrote about the need of conserving her strength, and stated that she\nwas taking all due care. She apologised for reading her Bible in bed on\nSunday mornings; it gave her a rest, she said, before she began her\nday's work. As her Sunday began at 5.30 A.M. and ended at 7 P.M., and\nduring the greater part of that time she was walking, preaching, and\nteaching, she might well allow herself the indulgence. It may be noted\nthat she sometimes misplaced Sunday. \"I lost it a fortnight ago,\" she\nwrote, \"and kept it on a Saturday. Never mind, God would hear all the\nprayers and answer them all the same.\" On another occasion she was\ndiscovered on a Sunday on the roof of the house executing repairs,\nthinking it was Monday.\n\nMr. Ovens relates that once when he went up on a Monday to do some work\nhe found her holding a service. She was glad to see him; \"but what,\"\nsaid she, \"is Duke Town coming to when its carpenter travels on the\nSabbath Day?\"\n\n\"Sabbath Day!\" he echoed. \"It's Monday.\"\n\n\"Monday! why, I thought it was Sabbath. Well, we'll have to keep it as\nSabbath now.\"\n\n\"Na, na,\" he replied, \"it's no Sabbath wi' me. I canna afford two\nSabbaths in a week.\"\n\n\"Ah, we must though,\" she said; adding in a whisper, \"I was\nwhitewashing the rooms yesterday.\"\n\nRealising that he must \"save her face,\" he took part in the service and\nstarted his work next morning.\n\nIn one of Mr. Goldie's letters to a friend at this time there is a\ndelightful touch. \"I am at Okoyong,\" he wrote, \"and am not sure of the\ndate.\"\n\nHer womanly sympathy and tenderness were never better exhibited than in\nher relations with her dark sisters about her. She entered into their\nlives as few have been able to do. She treated them as human beings,\nsaw the romance and tragedy in their patient lives, wept over their\ntrials, and rejoiced in their joys. There was one little idyll of harem\nlife which she liked to tell.\n\nSome slave-dealers arrived at Ekenge, and among their \"bargains\" was a\nyoung and handsome girl, whom Edem bought for one of his chief men. Ma\nErne, who heard of the transaction but paid no attention to it, had a\nrespectable slave-woman at one of her farms whom she ordered to come\nand live in her own yard. The woman obeyed somewhat unwillingly, and in\nthe village began to grumble to others about her enforced removal. The\nnew slave-girl was cooking her master's food when she heard the voice.\nAs she listened memories were stirred within her and she ran out and\ngazed at the woman, then went nearer and stared closely into her face.\nThe woman demanded what she was looking at. The girl screamed and\ncaught her round the neck and uttered a word in a strange language. It\nwas the name of the woman, who, in turn, stared at the girl. When the\nlatter called out her own name the two embraced and held each other in\na grip of iron. The daughter had found a mother who had been stolen\nmany years before. Both went into the yard and sat on the ground\ndiscussing their experiences and receiving the warm congratulations of\nthe other women in the village.\n\nThere was trouble at the time in the district, and Mary had occasion to\nsee Ma Eme after midnight. She found the two sitting beside some\nburning logs, with Ma Eme on the other side, all three talking over the\nmystery of life and its pain and parting and sorrow. She squatted down\nbeside them, and gradually the girl told her story. How she had prayed\nto the great God for some one to capture her so that she might have a\nchance of finding her mother when the traders went to Calabar. She\nbelieved that among the crowds at Duke Town she would see her face, and\nwhen they left there she almost lost hope.\n\nBut \"Ma\" craved the companionship of her kind, and she enjoyed going\ndown to Duke Town to the various meetings, and seeing the ladies of the\nMission. She would not leave the children behind, and as the whole\nfamily would descend unexpectedly on a member of the Mission staff,\nsome embarrassing situations occurred. One missionary, a bachelor, was\npreparing to turn in about 10 P.M. when he heard people crowding up the\nstairs of the verandahs and a babel of voices. It was \"Ma\" and all her\nboys and girls and babies come to lodge with him for a week.\nFortunately he knew his guests, and, as he surmised, they were content\nwith the floor. When the household grew, and she could not leave the\nchildren so often, she would sometimes walk with them to Adiabo on the\nCalabar River, taking provisions with her, and there, halfway, would\nmeet and picnic with the Calabar lady agents.\n\nIt was about this time that the sense of her loneliness grew upon her\nto such, an extent that she could not sleep at nights, \"I feel\ndreadfully lonely,\" she wrote, \"and want a helper, and I have made up\nmy mind to ask the Committee at next meeting for a companion.\" But when\nshe went to Duke Town and realised the depleted state of the Mission\ncaused by illness and death, and the manner in which the staff was\noverworked, she could not find the heart to prefer her request, and\ninstead she thanked God for being able to hold on. She added her appeal\nto the other requests for workers that were so constantly sent home\nthen, and her idea of the kind of woman most suited for the Calabar\nfield is of interest:\n\n... Consecrated, affectionate women who are not afraid of work or of\nfilth of any kind, moral or material. Women who can nurse a baby or\nteach a child to wash and comb as well as to read and write, women who\ncan tactfully smooth over a roughness and for Christ's sake bear a\nsnub, and take any place which may open. Women who can take everything\nto Jesus and there get strength to smile and persevere and pull on\nunder any circumstances. If they can play Beethoven and paint and draw\nand speak French and German so much the better, but we can want all\nthese latter accomplishments if they have only a loving heart, willing\nhands, and common sense. Surely such women are not out of our reach.\nThere are thousands of them in our churches, and our home churches have\nno monopoly of privilege in choosing to keep them. Spare us a few.\nInduce them to come forward. If there be the call from the Holy Spirit\ndo not let mere accomplishments be a _sine qua non_. Help them to come\nforward. Take them to your own homes and let them have the benefit of\nall the conversation and refinement and beauty which fill these, and so\ngently lead them out of their timidity and accustom them to society\nthat they may meet out in the world, and hand them on to us. Up in a\nstation like mine they want to teach the first principles of\neverything, and they need to help in times of trouble in the home or in\nthe town palaver. They will not need fine English, for there is none to\nadmire it. No one knows other than native languages, and I would gladly\nhail any warm-hearted woman from any sphere if she would come to me. I\ncannot pretend to work this station: the school work is simply a\nscramble at the thing, mostly by the girls of the house. I can't\novertake it. It is because I am not doing it efficiently that I am\ngrieved.\n\nOn her visits to Calabar she was an object of much interest. One who\nknew her then says: \"She had the power of attracting young men, and she\nhad great influence with them. Whether they were in Mission work, or\ntraders, or government men, they were sure to be attracted by her\nvigorous character and by the large-hearted, understanding way she\nwould talk to them or listen to their talk of their work or other\ninterests. She loved to stir them to do great things.\"\n\nIt was sometimes remarked by visitors that her surroundings had not the\nspick-and-span appearance which usually characterises a Scottish\nMission station. She had, nevertheless, a real appreciation of order\nand beauty, and liked to have everything clean and tidy about her. How\nto accomplish this was her daily problem, and perhaps only those who\nhave lived in tropical lands can understand the position. The\ndifficulty there is not how to make things grow, but how to prevent\nthem growing. She waged as fierce and incessant a war with vegetation\nas she did with man, but it proved too much for her strength. \"I\nthink,\" she wrote, \"if I left alone some of the outdoor work, even it\nthe place did go to bush and dirt, I would not be so tired, and I could\ndo more otherwise. But I can't help it. I must put my hands in wherever\nthere is work to be done.\" The task had not become easier for her, for\nthe new trade with Calabar had brought about a demand for Okoyong yams,\nand the people were so busy planting at their farms that she was unable\nto hire labour. The bush would creep up swiftly and stealthily to the\nedge of the dwellings and become a covering for beasts of prey, and,\nthen she and her girls would sally out and cut it down and burn it and\ndig out the roots. And in its place would be planted corn and cocos and\nyams and other products, the children each having a plot to tend. A\nprivate pathway to the spring which she had constructed in order that\nthe girls might not mix with the village women and hear their talk had\nalso to be kept clear. It was hard work in the hot sunshine, and she\nand her bairns literally watered the soil with their perspiration. But\nno tears were shed at the work save those caused by merry jokes and\nlaughter. She often surveyed the scene with pride, revelling in the\nwild beauty of form and colour, the brilliancy of the flowering trees,\nthe tender green of the yams on their supports, the starry jasmine with\nits keen perfume. She loved flowers, and taught her scholars to bring\nthem to school. They had never been conscious of these before, and the\nfact that they began to appreciate them was, she considered, a step\nforward in their educational development.\n\nOften she longed for the power to bring out thousands of the slum\npeople from the cities at home to enjoy the open life, and to work the\nrich lands. Not that she used the word \"slum\"; it seemed to reflect on\nthe poor, many of whom she regarded as the heroes and heroines of God;\nin her humility she believed that many of them would have been far\nahead of her if they had had the same advantages. One of her day-dreams\nwas to inherit a fortune and to spend it all on the poor. \"If only\"--\nbut she would check herself and say, \"Mary Slessor! as if God does not\nknow what to give and how to give it, and as if He did not love and\nthink for all these poor creatures who are so mercilessly pushed aside\nin the race of life.\"\n\n\n\n\n                  XXIV. MAIDEN-MOTHER AND ANGEL-CHILD\n\nOf all the tasks to which she put her hand the sweetest as well as the\nsaddest was the care of the babes of the bush. Her house was the refuge\nof little children: sickly ones that were left with her to nurse and\nreturn; discarded ones that were taken to her; outcast ones that she\nrescued from injury and death. So many came, received names, were\ndescribed in her letters, and then passed out of sight, that her\nfriends in Scotland were unable to keep abreast of her efforts in this\ndirection.\n\nThey arrived in all stages of sickness, but usually the last. With many\na broken body she had never a chance, but with marvellous patience and\ntenderness she washed them and nursed them and loved them and fought\nthe dark shadow that was ever ready to hover over the tiny forms. Night\nafter night she would sit up watching a face that was wasted and\ntwisted with pain, or walk to and fro crooning snatches of song to\nsoothe a restless mite in her arms. Sometimes a hammock was slung up\nbeside her into which they were placed, so that if they awoke during\nthe night she could touch it with her foot and swing them to sleep\nagain. More than once, when the supply of condensed milk ran out, she\nstrapped her latest baby to her body and tramped the long miles to\nCreek Town through the bush, and returned next day with the child and\nthe tins.\n\nThe children that were brought back to health and strength and restored\nto their parents it was always a pang to part with. She wished she\ncould have kept them and trained them up away from the degraded\ninfluences of their homes. Those who died she dressed and placed among\nflowers in a box, held a service over them, and buried them in a little\ncemetery, which by and by became full of tiny graves. She mourned over\nthem as if they had been blood of her blood. Mr. Ovens used to say to\nher, \"Never mind, lassie, you'll get plenty mair\"--and indeed there\nwere always plenty,\n\nOf all the African children that passed through her hands none endeared\nitself so much to her as Susie, her first Okoyong twin. The mother,\nIye, was a slave from Bende, light in colour and handsome, and was the\nproperty of one of the big women, who treated her with kindness and\nconsideration. When the twins arrived all was changed. Miss Kingsley,\nwho arrived at Ekenge the same day on a visit to Mary, thus describes\nthe scene:\n\nShe was subjected to torrents of virulent abuse, her things were torn\nfrom her, her English china basins, possessions she valued most highly,\nwere smashed, her clothes were torn, and she was driven out as an\nunclean thing. Had it not been for the fear of incurring Miss Slessor's\nanger, she would, at this point have been killed with her children, and\nthe bodies thrown into the bush. As it was, she was hounded out of the\nvillage. The rest of her possessions were jammed into an empty gin-case\nand cast to her. No one would touch her, as they might not touch to\nkill. Miss Slessor had heard of the twins' arrival and had started off,\nbarefooted and bareheaded, at that pace she can go down a bush path. By\nthe time she had gone four miles she met the procession, the woman\ncoming to her, and all the rest of the village yelling and howling\nbehind her. On the top of her head was the gin-case, into which the\nchildren had been stuffed, on the top of them the woman's big brass\nskillet, and on the top of that her two market calabashes. Needless to\nsay, on arriving Miss Slessor took charge of affairs, relieving the\nunfortunate, weak, staggering woman from her load and carrying it\nherself, for no one else would touch it, or anything belonging to those\nawful twin things, and they started back together to Miss Slessor's\nhouse in the forest-clearing, saved by that tact which, coupled with\nher courage, has given Miss Slessor an influence and a power among the\nnegroes unmatched in its way by that of any other white.\n\nShe did not take the twins and their mother down the village path to\nher own house, for though, had she done so, the people of Okoyong would\nnot have prevented her, yet so polluted would the path have been and so\ndangerous to pass down, that they would have been compelled to cut\nanother, no light task in that bit of forest, I assure you. So Miss\nSlessor stood waiting in the broiling sun, in the hot season's height,\nwhile a path was being cut to enable her just to get through to her own\ngrounds. The natives worked away hard, knowing that it saved the\npolluting of a long stretch of market road, and when it was finished\nMiss Slessor went to her own house by it, and attended with all\nkindness, promptness, and skill to the woman and children. I arrived in\nthe middle of this affair for my first meeting with Miss Slessor, and\nthings at Okoyong were rather crowded, one way and another, that\nafternoon. All the attention one of the children wanted--the boy, for\nthere were a boy and a girl--was burying, for the people who had\ncrammed them into the box had utterly smashed the child's head. The\nother child was alive, and is still a member of that household of\nrescued children, all of whom owe their lives to Miss Slessor.\n\nThe natives would not touch it, and only approached it after some days,\nand then only when it was held by Miss Slessor or me. If either of us\nwanted to do or get something, and we handed over the bundle to one of\nthe house children to hold, there was a stampede of men and women off\nthe verandah, out of the yard, and over the fence, if need be, that was\nexceedingly comic, but most convincing as to the reality of the terror\nand horror in which they held the thing. Even its own mother could not\nbe trusted with the child; she would have killed it. She never betrayed\nthe slightest desire to have it with her, and after a few days' nursing\nand feeding up she was anxious to go back to her mistress, who, being\nan enlightened woman, was willing to have her if she came without the\nchild.\n\nThe woman's own lamentations were pathetic. She would sit for hours\nsinging or rather mourning out a kind of dirge over herself: \"Yesterday\nI was a woman, now I am a horror, a thing all people ran from.\nYesterday they would eat with me, now they spit on me. Yesterday they\nwould talk to me with sweet mouth, and now they greet me only with\ncurses and execrations. They have smashed my basin, they have torn my\nclothes,\" so on, and so on. There was no complaint against the people\nfor doing these things, only a bitter sense of injury against some\nsuperhuman power that had sent this withering curse of twins down on\nher,\n\nThe surviving infant, Susie, was not commonplace in feature like the\nother black children; she was not in reality a negress, but fair,\nshapely, and clean-skinned, with a nose like a white child's and a\nsweet mouth--a mouth which Miss Kingsley called the \"button-hole.\"\nEvery one loved her, and she was queen of the household.\n\nWhen she was fourteen months old Miss Slessor one day went to the\ndispensary and left her in charge of Mana, who put down a jug of\nboiling water on the floor beside her. Susie thought it a plaything,\nand, seizing it, pulled it over upon herself. Instead of calling for\n\"Ma\" Mana ran with the child to the bathroom and poured cold water over\nthe wounds. For thirteen days and nights she was never out of Mary's\nhands. Fortunately Miss Murray, a lady agent who, at her own request,\nhad been stationed at Okoyong for a time, and whose companionship she\nvalued, helped her greatly. \"She was like a sister to me,\" she wrote.\nThinking more might be done by a medical man she started off with the\nchild in her arms, arrived at Creek Town at midnight, and woke up the\ndoctor, who, however, said he could not do more than she had done. She\nreturned at once to Ekenge, and again watched the suffering babe by day\nand night. In the darkness and silence, when all were asleep, she would\nhear the faint words, \"Mem, Mem, Mem!\"--the child's name for her--and\nthe wee hand would be held up for her to kiss. Early one Sunday morning\nshe passed away in her arms. Robed in a pinafore, with her beads and a\nsash, and a flower in her hand, she looked \"like an angel child.\"\n\nThe event caused a strange stir in Okoyong. None of the villagers went\nto their farms or market while the child was hovering on the brink of\ndeath, and when she passed away they came and mourned with \"Ma.\"\n\nShe was buried in the cemetery where so many other hapless waifs were\nalready at rest. In her anguish Mary could not conduct the service, but\nsat at the window and looked out while Miss Murray bravely took her\nplace. The people, respectful and sad, gathered round the grave--the\ngrave of a twin!--and one of the women, a leader in heathenism, praised\nthe white Mother's God for the child, and prayed that they might all\nhave her hope in the Beyond. \"Surely,\" was Mary's comment, \"they all\nfelt the vast difference between their burials with all their drink and\nmadness, and ours so full of quiet hope and expectant faith.\"\n\nThe slave-mother had often come to visit her, and had actually got to\nlove the child, and when it died she was heartbroken. \"Ma,\" she said,\n\"don't cry. I have done this. God hates me. I shall go away and not\nbring any more evil on you.\" With that she went back to her hut in the\nbush.\n\n\"If I were a wealthy woman,\" said \"Ma,\" \"I would buy her; but I cannot\nafford it, so we must do our best to cheer her up.\"\n\nAlthough she objected to buying slave-women, even to restore them to\nfreedom, on account of the wrong impression it left on the native mind,\nshe made an exception in the case of Iye, and not long afterwards she\nwas able to purchase her liberty for \u00a310, and she became an inmate of\nthe Mission House, Miss Slessor's intention being to train her so that\nshe might be useful to any lady who lived at the station during her\nabsences in Scotland. To the natives Iye was an outcast, and had \"no\ncharacter.\" \"_Etubom_,\" Mary said to Mr. Ovens, \"If a slave-dealer came\nround I would not get \u00a36 for her.\" \"Why?\" said he. \"She has no\ncharacter.\" \"But he would buy her and take her up country.\" \"What for?\"\n\"To feed her for chop!\"...\n\nFor some time she suffered physically from the shock she had received.\nNo mother could have grieved more bitterly over the loss of a beloved\nchild. \"My heart aches for my darling,\" she wrote. \"Oh the empty place,\nand the silence and the vain longing for the sweet voice and the soft\ncaress and the funny ways. Oh, Susie, Susie!\"\n\n\n\n\n                       XXV. MARY KINGSLEY'S VISIT\n\nMiss Kingsley paid her visit to the West Coast in 1893. Like all who\ntravelled in West Africa, she heard of the woman missionary who lived\nalone among the wild Okoyong, and made a point of going up to see her.\nMiss Slessor welcomed so capable and earnest a worker, \"She gave me,\"\nsays Miss Kingsley, \"some of the pleasantest days of my life.\" In some\nrespects these two brilliant women were much akin, though they were\npoles asunder in regard to their outlook on spiritual verities. They\nhad long discussions on religious subjects, and would sit up late\nbeating over such questions as the immortality of the soul. Miss\nKingsley was profoundly impressed. \"I would give anything to possess\nyour beliefs,\" she said wistfully, \"but I can't, I can't; when God made\nme He must have left out the part that one believes with.\"\n\nNevertheless Miss Slessor said that for all her beliefs and unbeliefs\nshe was one of the most truly Christian women she had ever met. On her\nreturn to England Miss Kingsley spoke often of her in terms of\naffection and admiration, and acknowledged to friends that she had done\nher much spiritual good. Mary, on her part, poured into her possession\nall her treasures of knowledge concerning the fetish ideas and\npractices of the natives, and probably none knew more about these\nmatters than she. Most missionaries confess that they never get to the\nback of the negro mind, and one who worked in a neighbouring field once\nsaid that after nineteen years' careful study he had yet to master the\nintricacies of native superstition. The information that Mary supplied\nwas therefore of great value, and much of it was utilised in Miss\nKingsley's books. In _Travels in West Africa_ she gives the following\nconsidered view of the missionary:\n\nThis very wonderful lady has been eighteen years in Calabar; for the\nlast six or seven living entirely alone, as far as white folks go, in a\nclearing in the forest near to one of the principal villages of the\nOkoyong district, and ruling as a veritable white chief over the entire\ndistrict. Her great abilities, both physical and intellectual, have\ngiven her among the savage tribe a unique position, and won her, from\nwhite and black who know her, a profound esteem. Her knowledge of the\nnative, his language, his ways of thought, his diseases, his\ndifficulties, and all that is his, is extraordinary, and the amount of\ngood she has done, no man can fully estimate. Okoyong, when she went\nthere alone--living in the native houses while she built, with the\nassistance of the natives, her present house--was a district regarded\nwith fear by the Duke and Creek Town natives, and practically unknown\nto Europeans. It was given, as most of the surrounding districts still\nare, to killing at funerals, ordeal by poison, and perpetual\ninternecine wars. Many of these evil customs she has stamped out, and\nOkoyong rarely gives trouble to its nominal rulers, the Consuls, in Old\nCalabar, and trade passes freely through it down to the seaports. This\ninstance of what one white can do would give many important lessons in\nWest Coast administration and development. Only the sort of man Miss\nSlessor represents is rare. There are but few who have the same power\nof resisting the malarial climate, and of acquiring the language and an\ninsight into the negro mind, so perhaps after all it is no great wonder\nthat Miss Slessor stands alone, as she certainly does.\n\nWith all her robust ability Miss Kingsley's mental range was curiously\nnarrow. She wrote strongly against Protestant missionary aims and\nmethods in West Africa, her views being entirely opposed to those of\nthe White Woman of Okoyong, who had a much greater right to speak on\nthe subject. But the latter, nevertheless, loved her, and when the news\nof her death came, some years later, she was plunged into grief. \"The\nworld held not many so brave and so noble,\" she wrote. \"Life feels very\ncold and seems grey and sunless.\" Hearing of a proposed memorial to the\nintrepid traveller she sent a guinea as her mite towards it.\n\n\n\n\n                       XXVI. AN ALL-NIGHT JOURNEY\n\nAn outburst of fighting had taken place amongst the factions around\nEkenge. Women were the cause of it, and a number had been herded into a\nstockade near the Mission House, where a band of men were proceeding to\nmurder them. Mary came on the scene and held them at bay. All day she\nstood there and all night, her girls handing her from time to time a\ncup of tea through the poles of the enclosure. Next night matters had\nbecome quieter, a tornado of rain and wind having eased the situation,\nbut she was soaked, whilst the mats of the Mission House had blown up\nand the interior had been flooded, so that both the girls and herself\nneeded dry garments. Then the condensed milk was nearly done, she was\ntold, and the baby she was nursing would suffer without it. Both\nclothing and milk could only be procured from Calabar, and as she had\nno messenger to despatch there, she resolved to go herself.\n\nAfter dark she stole out of the stockade, placed the child in a basket,\nsecured a woman as guide, and with a lantern started out to walk\nthrough the bush to Creek Town. She reached Adiabo on the Calabar River\nabout half-past ten, obtained a cup of tea from the native pastor, and\npushed on. Her guide lost the way, a deluge of rain fell, and they\nwandered aimlessly for a time through the dripping forest, before again\nstriking the track.\n\nCreek Town was reached at four o'clock in the morning. She knocked up\nMiss Johnstone, who sent her to bed for an hour, and sought for some\ntins of milk. As soon as two had been procured Mary was eager to be\noff. Miss Johnstone gave her some changes of clothing, and King Eyo put\nhis canoe and a strong crew at her disposal, and she was soon speeding\nup-river. On her arrival she found to her satisfaction that her absence\nhad not been discovered, and she was able eventually to restore peace\nwithout the shedding of blood.\n\nTwo days later a canoe which came down-river to Duke Town brought word\nthat she was ill with dysentery. Dr. Laws of Livingstonia, who was then\nvisiting the Mission as a deputy, happened to be at Creek Town and was\nasked to go and see her with Mr. Manson, one of the industrial staff,\nas guide. Their canoe was nearly swamped by rain, and they had to\nchange their clothing when they arrived. She was soon up and through to\nthe hall to provide hospitality for her guests, supporting herself by\nthe table the while. A peremptory order came from Dr. Laws to return to\nbed at once. She gave him a long curious look, and then without a word\nwent and lay down. He noticed that his companion appeared both\nastonished and amused, and it was not until he returned to Calabar, and\nheard Mr. Manson telling how \"Ma\" Slessor had been taken in charge for\nonce, that he realised how bold he had been. Dr. Laws thought that few\nwomen, or even men, could have stood the isolation that she endured.\n\n\n\n\n                       XXVII. AKOM: A FIRST-FRUIT\n\n Although force of circumstances made her the instrument of law and\norder her chief aim was to win the people to Christ, and all her\nefforts were directed to that end. It was for souls she was always\nhungering, and the lack of conversions was her greatest sorrow.\nNevertheless she was making progress. The people were becoming familiar\nwith the name of God and Christ and the principles underlying the\nGospel, and there were many who leant more to the new way than to the\nold, whilst some in their hearts believed. The boys that were being\ntrained at school and service were perhaps the most cheering element in\nthe situation, and upon them she set her hopes.\n\nIt was wonderful that she achieved what she did in view of the\nconditions that prevailed. How difficult it was for a native to break\naway from habits and customs ingrained in them through centuries of\nrepetition may be gathered from the story of Akom, a freewoman, one of\nthe most self-righteous of the big ladies of the district. She had been\nbetrothed, when a year old, to a young and powerful chief, and had been\nbrought up in the harem and was a zealous upholder of all superstitious\npractices. On her lord's death she escaped the poison ordeal, and was\nactive in placing wives and slaves into the grave. By and by Ekpenyong\nmade her his wife and mistress of the harem, and for twenty years she\nheld undisputed sway.\n\nWhen Edem's son was killed by the falling of a log it will be\nremembered that Ekpenyong was blamed for the event and retired to the\nbush. Not long afterwards a young chief there fell sick, and the witch-\ndoctor on consulting his oracle declared that he saw Akom and her son\ndancing the whole night long, and gaily piercing the sick man with\nknives and spears. Akom was charged with sorcery, and asked to take the\npoison ordeal. Her friends advised her to flee, and she and her son\ndisappeared during the night and took refuge in Umon, where the people\ngave them the protection of their _ibritam_ or juju.\n\n\"Ma\" was in Scotland at the time. When she returned Ekpenyong begged\nher to interfere and have his wife brought back. This she managed to do\nafter Akom had taken _mbiam_--the strongest and most dreaded of native\noaths, which included the drinking of blood shed from the wrist. The\nwoman came to see her, but stood outside. \"What?\" exclaimed \"Ma,\" \"you\ncannot come within my gate?\" \"No,\" was the reply; \"you had a twin-\nmother once living in the yard, and I cannot come in lest I touch the\nplace she touched,\" Those who took the _mbiam_ oath, believed that they\nwould die if they came in contact in any way with a twin-mother. \"Ma\"\npretended to be hurt, and said, \"If my house is polluted you had better\ngo home, as I do not receive visitors on the road.\" After a time Akom\nventured in, and she was kind to her and gave her an order for mats, at\nthe making of which she was an adept.\n\nShe then came regularly and listened intently to \"Ma's\" teaching,\nalthough she said nothing. By and by she began to remark on the purity\nof the Gospel religion and show increased reverence at the services.\nTwins came, and she mastered her fear and went into the house. But\nalas! a mysterious pain straightway developed in her foot, and this\nsurely was _mbiam_ punishing her; and when a skin disease followed, her\nfaith nearly failed her, and she wailed and mourned in despair. \"Ma\"\nspoke strongly to her; and at last she rose and said, \"I am a fool; my\nGod, my Father, listen not to my foolishness. Kill me if Thou wilt, but\ndo not leave me.\"\n\nThe disease was checked, and a native medicine effected a cure. But she\nstood out against any sacrifice, saying very sensibly, \"My Father owns\nthe bush and gives us the knowledge of the medicine, and as the Master\nknows what He has made He knows also how to bless it apart from any\noutsider.\"\n\nEkpenyong all this while had ignored his wife, expecting that the\n_mbiam_ would do its work. He looked grimly on, and when she injured\nher foot against a root he believed the end had arrived. All the people\nwatched the struggle between the white woman's prayers and the\n_mbiam's_ power, and when the wound healed they were nonplussed, but\nquaintly explained the miracle by saying that their Mother was\ndifferent from other white people, and so had prevailed.\n\nAkom grew in grace despite her surroundings, and found strength in her\ncontact with Christ. An amazing thing to her was that the man who had\naccused her of witchcraft came and made friends with her.\n\n\"Ma,\" she said, \"see what God has wrought. The man who demanded my life\ncomes to tell me his affairs! I sometimes wanted to take revenge, but I\nhave got it from God, and His revenge is of a sweeter kind than that of\nthe Consul.\"\n\nIt was cases like this that coloured Miss Slessor's life with joy.\nSometimes, too, she was unexpectedly cheered by evidence of the fruit\nof her work in past days. In 1894 a lad, an old scholar of hers in Duke\nTown, turned up in the village. He had made good use of his education,\nand wherever he went, on farm and on beach, he held worship and got the\npeople to listen. It was not surprising that she regarded the boys as\nher most hopeful agents, although she was always very careful in\nchoosing them as teachers for bush schools; she thought it belittled\nthe message to send those who were not thoroughly fit for the work.\n\n\n\n\n                       XXVIII. THE BOX FROM HOME\n\nThe most joyous break in the domestic life at Ekenge, both for the\nhouse-mother and the children, was caused by the arrival of boxes of\ngifts from Scotland. So many congregations and Sunday Schools had\nbecome interested in her and her work that there was a continuous\nstream of packages to Okoyong. \"I am ashamed at receiving so much,\" she\nwould say. Her own friends also remembered her; and on one occasion she\nwrote to a lady who had sent a personal contribution, \"It seems like a\nbox from a whole congregation, not from an individual.\"\n\nShe was specially delighted with the articles that came from the\nchildren of the Church, and many a letter she wrote in return to the\nscholars in Sunday Schools. None knew better how to thank them. She\nwould give them a picture of the landing of the boxes at Duke Town, and\nthe journey up the Calabar River in the canoe or in the steamer _David\nWilliamson_--which they had themselves subscribed for and supplied--to\nthe beach, and of the excitement when the engineer came over, perhaps\nwith visitors, to announce the arrival. \"White people come, Ma!\" The\ncry by day or night always roused the household. One girl ran to make\nup the fire and put on the kettle, another placed the spare room in\norder, a third took the hand parcels and wraps, and \"Ma\" herself\nwelcomed the guests with a Scottish word or two, and a warm hand-clasp.\nThey would give her home letters, but these she would lay aside until\nshe was more at leisure. Then a whisper would go round that there were\ngoods at the beach, and every man, woman, and child about the place\nwould be eager to be off to bring them up. But the boxes would be too\nlarge and heavy to be borne on heads through the forest, and they would\nbe opened and the contents made up into packages, with which the\ncarriers marched off in single file. Depositing them at the house they\nwould return for more until all were safely conveyed. Then the articles\nwould be exposed amidst cries of wonder and delight, and the house\nbecome like a bazaar. Sometimes there would be a mix-up of articles,\nbut the loving messages pinned on to each would clear up the confusion.\nMary dearly loved to linger over each gift and spin a little history\ninto it, and she would pray with a full heart, \"Lord Jesus thou knowest\nthe giver and the love and the prayers and the self-denial. Bless and\naccept and use all for Thy glory and for the good of these poor\nstraying ignorant children, and repay all a thousandfold.\"\n\nShe was careful in her allocation of the gifts amongst the people in\norder that they might not be regarded as a bribe to ensure good\nbehaviour or attendance at the services. She would not even give them\nas payment for work done, as this, she thought, put the service on a\ncommercial basis and made them look again for an equivalent gain.\nPictures and texts, like dolls, were somewhat of a problem, as there\nwas a danger of the people worshipping them. But they liked to beautify\ntheir squalid huts with them, and she regarded them as an educative and\ncivilising agency not to be despised. Also to a certain extent they\ngave an indication of those who had sympathy with the new ideas, and\nwere sometimes a silent confession of a break with heathenism.\n\nTo one old woman, the first Christian, was given a copy of \"The Light\nof the World.\" Holding it reverently she exclaimed, \"Oh! I shall never\nbe lonely any more. I can't read the Book, but I can sit or lie and\nlook at my Lord, and we can speak together. Oh, my Saviour, keep me\ntill I see you up yonder!\" It was explained that the picture was an\nallegory, and the woman understood; but she simply saw Christ in all\nthe fervour of her newborn love and faith, and Mary trusted to keep her\nright by daily teaching.\n\nSome of the articles found odd uses. A dress would be given to a girl\nwho was entering into seclusion for fattening; a dressing-gown would go\nto the chief who was a member of the native Court, and he would wear it\nwhen trying cases, to the admiration of the people; a white shirt would\nbe presented to another chief, and he would don it like a State robe\nwhen paying \"Ma\" a formal visit. Blouses she retained, since no native\nwomen wore them. The pretty baby-clothes were a source of wonder to the\npeople--they were speechless at the idea of infants wearing such\npriceless things. It must be confessed that there was something for\nwhich \"Ma\" always searched when a box from her own friends arrived.\nLike the children she was fond of sweets, and there would be a shriek\nof delight from more than juvenile lips when the well-known tins and\nbottles were discovered in some corner where they had been designedly\nhidden.\n\n\n\n\n                     XXIX. AN APPEAL TO THE CONSUL\n\n\"Religious missions have worked persistently and well, and pointed out\nto the people the evil of their cruelties and wrongdoing, but there\ncomes a time when their efforts need backing up by the strong arm of\nthe law of civilisation and right.\"\n\nSir Claude Macdonald wrote this in the autumn of 1894. Perhaps he had\nin mind the case of Okoyong. For in that year Miss Slessor came to the\nconclusion that it was time to invoke the great power which lay behind\nher in order to put a stop to the practice of killing on charges of\nwitchcraft.\n\nShe was busy with a twin-murder case when word suddenly arrived that a\nman was being blamed for causing his master's death, and that a palaver\nwas going on. She sent some of the children at once to say that when\nher household had retired she would walk over in the moonlight. But a\ntornado came on, and the rain poured all night. As soon as it cleared\nshe despatched a message: \"Don't do anything till I come--I will come\nwhen the bush is drier.\" On receiving this the accuser rose: \"Am I not\nto give him any ordeal till Ma comes? I will not be able to do it then!\nShe won't be willing. Unlock his chains and take him to Okat Ikan,\nwhere he will be beyond her reach.\"\n\nSeizing the man his henchmen hurried him off, and the chief followed\nwith a grunt of satisfaction at having outwitted the White Mother.\n\nWhen she heard of the manoeuvre she determined not to go wandering\naimlessly in the bush in search of the party. She resolved to do what\nshe had never done before, send down to the Consulate at Duke Town and\nseek the assistance of the Government not only to rescue this\nparticular victim, but to end the evil throughout the length and\nbreadth of Okoyong.\n\nThe house-girls became aware of her intention, and the news that \"Ma's\"\npatience, so often and so sorely tried, was at last exhausted, and that\nshe was going to adopt stronger measures, spread swiftly through the\nvillages. In order not to involve any native in the transaction she was\nthe bearer of her own communication to the beach, and she was not long\ngone on her walk through the forest when the people concerned arrived\nbreathlessly at the Mission House to beg her to forgive them for going\nbeyond her voice.\n\n\"Ma is away,\" announced the children, \"and you cannot reach her now.\"\n\nSadder and wiser they returned to their village, for they feared the\nConsul, who was associated in their minds with big guns and burnt\ntowns. She returned late at night, wearied with the journey, yet was up\nearly in the morning again and walked six miles in intense heat to a\npalaver, carrying a couple of babies. When she arrived she was at the\npoint of fainting.\n\nThe next night the slave who had been carried off succeeded in breaking\nthe lock of his chains and escaped to the Mission House. In his baffled\nrage his master chained all who belonged to him, but fear of the\nimpending visit of the Consul made him reflect, and he sent word later\nto \"Ma\" to ask her forgiveness, and to say that all the people had been\nfreed. He asked her to go down to Duke Town and make the Consul come\n\"in peace and not in war.\" She did so, taking the refugee with her. The\nConsul adopted her view of the situation, and arranged to visit the\ndistrict and hold a conference. To this she invited all the chiefs,\ntelling them to free their minds of fear, and preparing them for the\nsubjects that would be dealt with.\n\nIt was Mr. Moor, the Vice-Consul, who came, and he brought a small\nguard of honour which paraded in the village, and gave Okoyong a\ngreater thrill than it had yet experienced. Mr. Moor found \"Ma\" on the\nroof of her house repairing the mats which had been leaking, but she\nwas not in the least perturbed, and received him with perfect\ncomposure. He was very patient and kind with the chiefs, but sought to\nimpress upon them the necessity for some improvement in their habits.\nAlready Mary had been much impressed with the new stamp of Government\nofficial under Sir Claude Macdonald, and this representative of the\nclass she thought one of the best.\n\nAs a result of the conference the chiefs promised to abstain from\nkilling at funerals, and to allow \"Ma\" to have an opportunity of saving\ntwins and caring for them in a special hut. She gave thanks to God; but\nshe knew the African nature, and did not relax her vigilance. A month\nafter the Consul's visit a kinsman of the above chief, older and much\nmore wealthy, died suddenly. \"We trembled for their promise to the\nConsul,\" she wrote, \"but we left them to themselves, believing that it\nwas better to trust them to a great extent, and instead of going and\nstaying with them to watch, we sent our compliments and gifts, and told\nthem we expected they would remember their treaty and the consequences\nof any breach of faith. After all was over not a slave or vassal was\nmissing, and though there were not wanting idle tongues let loose by\nthe unlimited supply of strong drink, and brawlings, and determinations\nto take the poison of their own accord in order to prove their\ninnocence, not one person has died as the direct result of the dread\nevent.\"\n\nMrs. Weir once spent a week-end at Okoyong, and accompanied her to a\nvillage two or three miles away where she was in the habit of going to\nconduct a service. When they arrived they found that the head of a\nhouse had died, and was being buried, according to custom, inside the\nhouse. They were taken to the place and saw the dead man's possessions\n--his pipe, snuff-box, powder-flask, and other articles--placed in the\ngrave in order that they might be useful to him in the other world.\nMrs. Weir could not help wondering at their superstition after all the\nteaching that they had been given. She said nothing; but Mary, with her\nkeen intuition, read her thoughts and said. \"You will be thinking they\nare not very different yet, but when I came to Okoyong, do you think I\nwould have seen men and women moving freely about like this? They would\nhave all been refugees in the bush, and those who had been caught would\nhave been in chains, waiting to be put to death, so that their spirits\nmight accompany the chief.\"\n\nTowards the end of the year she had what she called one of her descents\ninto the valley of the shadow, and was removed to Duke Town. \"Daddy\"\nAnderson, who had retired, but had come out again to Calabar on a\nvisit, walked over to see her; he said very little, but just sat and\nheld her hand. He, himself, was passing into the shadow, but not to\nreturn. She was with him at the last, and did her best to comfort him.\n\"Dear Daddy Anderson!\" she wrote; \"Calabar seems a strange land to me\nnow. All the friends are strangers to the old order. The Calabar of my\ngirlhood is among the things of the past.\"\n\nHer scepticism regarding the promise of the people was justified, for\nthe killing of twins went on as usual; and in the following year she\nbrought up Sir Claude Macdonald himself to renew the covenant. Sir\nClaude was all kindness and courtesy, assuring the chiefs that he did\nnot come to take their country, but to guide them into a proper way of\ngoverning it, that all, bond and free, might dwell in safety and peace.\nWhat he insisted on was their recognition of the claims of justice and\nhumanity. The spokesman, an old greyheaded man, said they wished to\nretire, in order to consult together. On returning he naively excused\ntheir conduct by stating that when they only heard words once they\nthought the matter unworthy of their consideration, but when they were\nrepeated, they thought there must be something in them, and so they\nwould obey the requirements of the Government this time. As regards\ntwins, they were doubtful, \"We are not sure that no evil will happen to\nus if we obey you; we have our fear, but we will try.\" They would not,\nhowever, consent to keep them in their own homes, and again Mary said\nthat if they would notify her of the births she would be responsible\nfor their welfare.\n\nShe had been acting as interpreter, and as the palaver lasted from\nearly morning until after dark she was much fatigued. Her last words\nwere to encourage the chiefs to keep their pledge, and they would enjoy\nthe benefits when she might be no more with them. The very suggestion\nof farewell alarmed them. \"God cannot take you away from your\nchildren,\" they exclaimed, \"until they are able to walk by themselves.\"\n\n\n\n\n                         XXX. AFTER SEVEN YEARS\n\nAfrica is slow to change: the centuries roll over it, leaving scarcely\na trace of their passing: the years come and go, and the people remain\nthe same: all effort seems in vain. Could one weak woman affect the\nconditions even in a small district of the mighty continent?\n\nIt had been uphill work for her. At first there had been only a dogged\nresponse to the message she had brought. When some impression had been\nmade she found that it soon disappeared. In ordinary life the people\nwere volatile, quick as fire to resent, and as quick to forgive and\nforget, and they were the same in regard to higher things. They went\ninto rapture over the Gospel, prayed aloud, clasped their hands, shed\ntears, and then went back to their drinking, sacrificing, and\nquarrelling. They kept to all the old ways, in case they might miss the\nright one. \"Yes, Ma,\" they would say, \"that is right for you; but you\nand we are different.\"\n\nBut she never lost hope. \"There is not much progress to report,\" she\nwas accustomed to say, \"and yet very much to thank God for, and to lead\nus to take courage.\" She was quite content to go on bringing rays of\nsunshine into the dark lives of the people, and securing for the\nchildren better conditions than their fathers had. \"After all,\" she\nwould say, \"it comes back to this, Christ sent me to preach the Gospel,\nand He will look after results.\" She was always much comforted by the\nthought of something she had heard the Rev. Dr. Beatt, of her old\nchurch in Aberdeen, say in a sermon: she could recall nothing but the\nheads, and one of these was, \"_Between the sower and the reaper stands\nthe Husbandman._\" But results there were of a most important kind, and\nit is time to take stock of them. Fortunately she was induced at this\ntime to jot down some impressions of her work, and these, which were\nnever published, give the best idea of the remarkable change which had\nbeen wrought in the life and habits of Okoyong. It will be noticed that\nshe does not use the pronoun \"I.\" Whenever she gave a statement of her\nwork she always wrote \"we,\" as if she were a co-worker with a Higher\nPower.\n\n\"In these days of high pressure,\" she says, \"men demand large profits\nand quick returns in every department of our commercial and national\nlife, and these must be served up with the definiteness and precision\nof statistics. This abnormal and feverish haste has entered to some\nextent into our religious work, and is felt more or less in all the\npulses of our Church. Whatever may be the reasons for such a course in\nregard to worldly callings, its methods and standards are utterly\nforeign to the laws of Christ's kingdom, and can only result in\ndistortions and miscalculations when applied to His work. While\nthanking God for every evidence of life and growth, we shrink from\nreducing the throes of spiritual life, the development and workings of\nthe conscience, or the impulse and trend toward God and righteousness,\nto any given number of figures on a table. Hence it is with the\ngreatest reluctance that we endeavour to sum up some tangible proof of\nthe power of God's Word among our heathen neighbours. While to our\nshame and confusion of face it has not been what it might, and would\nhave been had we been more faithful and kept more in line with the will\nand spirit of God, it has to the praise of the glory of His grace\nproved stronger than sin and Satan.\n\n\"We do not attempt to give in numbers those who are nominally\nChristian. Women, lads, girls, and a few men profess to have placed\nthemselves in God's hands. All the children within reach are sent to\nthe school without stipulation. One lady of free birth and good\nposition has borne persecution for Christ's sake. We speak with\ndiffidence; for as no ordained minister has ever been resident or\navailable for more than a short visit, no observance of the ordinances\nof Baptism or the Lord's Supper have been held and we have not had the\nusual definite offers of persons as candidates for Church membership,\nWe have just kept on sowing the seed of the Word, believing that when\nGod's time comes to gather them into the visible Church there will be\nsome among us ready to participate in the privilege and honour.\n\n\"Of results as affecting the condition and conduct of our people\ngenerally, it is more easy to speak. Raiding, plundering, the stealing\nof slaves, have almost entirely ceased. Any person from any place can\ncome now for trade of pleasure, and stay wherever they choose, their\npersons and property being as safe as in Calabar. For fully a year we\nhave heard of nothing like violence from even the most backward of our\npeople. They have thanked me for restraining them in the past, and\nbegged me to be their consul, as they neither wished black man nor\nwhite man to be their king. It would be impossible, apart from a belief\nin God's particular and personal providence in answer to prayer, to\naccount for the ready obedience and submission to our judgment which\nwas accorded to us. It seemed sometimes to be almost miraculous that\nhordes of armed, drunken, passion-swayed men should give heed and\nchivalrous homage to a woman, and one who had neither wealth nor\noutward display of any kind to produce the slightest sentiment in her\nfavour. But such was the case, and we do not recollect one instance of\ninsubordination.\n\n\"As their intercourse with the white men increased through trade or\notherwise, they found that to submit to his authority did not mean loss\nof liberty but the opposite, and gradually their objections cleared\naway, till in 1894 they formally met and bound themselves to some\nextent by treaty with the Consul. Again, later, our considerate,\npatient, tactful Governor, Sir Claude Macdonald, met them, and at that\ninterview the last objection was removed, and they promised\nunconditional surrender of the old laws which were based on\nunrighteousness and cruelty, and cordial acceptance of the just and, as\nthey called it, 'clean' code which he proffered them in return, Since\nthen he has proclaimed them a free people in every respect among\nneighbouring tribes, and so, placing them on their honour, so to speak,\nhas made out of the roughest material a lot of self-respecting men who\nconduct their business in a fashion from which Europeans might take\nlessons. Of course they need superintendence and watching, for their\nideas are not so nicely balanced as ours in regard to the shades and\ndegrees of right and wrong, but as compared with their former ideas and\npractice they are far away ahead of what we expected.\n\n\"No tribe was formerly so feared because of their utter disregard of\nhuman life, but human life is now safe. No chief ever died without the\nsacrifice of many lives, but this custom has now ceased. Only last\nmonth the man who, for age, wealth, and general influence, exceeded all\nthe other chiefs in Okoyong, died from the effects of cold caught three\nmonths before. We trembled, as they are at some distance from us, and\nevery drop of European drink which could be bought from all the towns\naround was bought at once, and canoes were sent from every hamlet with\nall the produce at command to Duke Town for some more, and all was\nconsumed before the people dispersed from the funeral. But the only\ndeath resulting has been that of a man, who, on being blamed by the\nwitch-doctors, went and hanged himself because the chiefs in\nattendance--drunk as they were--refused to give him the poison ordeal.\nSome chiefs, gathered for palaver at our house on the day of his death,\nin commenting on the wonderful change said, 'Ma, you white people are\nGod Almighty. No other power could have done this.'\n\n\"With regard to infanticide and twin-murder we can speak hopefully. It\nwill doubtless take some time to develop in them the spirit of self-\nsacrifice to the extent of nursing the vital spark for the mere love of\nGod and humanity among the body of the people. The ideals of those\nemerging from heathenism are almost necessarily low. What the foreigner\ndoes is all very well for the foreigner, but the force of habit or\nsomething more subtle evidently excuses the practice of the virtue\namong themselves. Of course there are exceptions. All the evidence goes\nto show that something more tangible than sentiment or principle\ndetermines the conduct of the multitude, even among those avowedly\nChristian. But with all this there has dawned on them the fact that\nlife is worth saving, even at the risk of one's own: and though chiefs\nand subjects alike, less than two years ago, refused to hear of the\nsaving of twins, we have already their promise and the first instalment\nof their fidelity to their promise in the persons of two baby girls\naged six and five months respectively, who have already won the hearts\nof some of our neighbours and the love of all the school children.\nSeven women have literally touched them, and all the people, including\nthe most practical of the chiefs, come to the house and hold their\npalavers in full view of where the children are being nursed. One chief\nwho, with fierce gesticulations, some years ago protested that we must\ndraw the line at twins, and that they should never be brought to light\nin his lifetime, brought one of his children who was very ill, two\nmonths ago, and laid it on our knee alongside the twin already there,\nsaying with a sob in his voice, 'There! they are all yours, living or\ndying, they are all yours. Do what you like with mine.'\n\n\"Drinking, especially among the women, is on the decrease. The old\nbands of roving women who came to us at first are now only a memory and\na name. The women still drink, but it is at home where the husband can\nkeep them in check. In our immediate neighbourhood it is an extremely\nrare thing to see a woman intoxicated, even on feast days and at\nfunerals. None of the women who frequent our house ever taste it at\nall, but they still keep it for sale and give it to visitors. Indeed it\nis the only thing which commands a ready sale and brings ready money,\nand their excuse is just that of many of the Church members at home,\nthat those who want it will get it elsewhere, and perhaps in greater\nmeasure. But we have noted a decided stand being taken by several of\nthe young mothers who have been our friends and scholars against its\nbeing given by husbands or visitors to their children. We have also\nthankfully noted for long that on our making an appearance anywhere\nthere is a run made to hide the bottles, and the chief indignantly\nthreatens any slave who brings it into our presence.\n\n\"All this points to an improvement in the condition of the people\ngenerally. They are eager for education. Instead of the apathy and\nincredulous laugh which the mention of the Word formerly brought, the\ncry from all parts is for teachers; and there is a disposition to be\nfriendly to any one who will help them towards a higher plane of\nliving. But it brings vividly before us the failures and weaknesses in\nour work; for instance, the desultoriness of our teaching, which of\nnecessity stultifies the results that under better conditions would be\nsure to follow. School teaching has been carried on under great\ndifficulties owing to the scattered population, the family quarrels\nwhich made it formerly a risk to walk alone, the fear of sorcery and of\nthe evil spirits which are supposed to dwell in the forest, the\ndenseness of the forest itself, which makes it dangerous for children\nto go from one place to another without an armed escort, the\nwithdrawing of girls when they have just been able to read in order to\ngo to their seclusion and fattening, and the consequent drafting of\nthem to great distances to their husbands' farms, the irregular\nattendance of boys who accompany their masters wherever they go, and\nwho take the place of postmen and news-agents-general to the country.\n\n\"There have been difficulties on our own side--the distances consume\ntime and strength, the multifarious claims made on the Mission House,\nthe household itself which is usually a large one having in addition to\nservants those who are training for future usefulness in special\nspheres--as the Mission House has been until quite lately the only\nmeans of getting such training--and having usually one or more of the\nrescued victims of heathen customs. The Dispensary work calls also for\nmuch time and strength, nursing often having to accompany the medicine;\nthe very ignorance and superstition of the patients and their friends\nmaking the task doubly trying. Then one must be ever at hand to hear\nthe plaint of and to shelter and reconcile the runaway slave or wife or\nthe threatened victim of oppression and superstition. Visitors are to\nbe received, and all the bothersome and, to European notions, stupid\ndetails of native etiquette are to be observed if we are to win the\nfavour and confidence of the people.\n\n\"Moreover we must be both able and willing to help ourselves in regard\nto the wear and tear in our dwelling and station buildings. We must\nmake and keep in repair buildings, fences, drainage, etc., and all amid\nsurroundings in which the climate and its forces are leagued against\nus.\n\n\"Add to all this the cares of housekeeping when there is no baker\nsupply, no butcher supply, no water supply, no gas supply, no coal\nsupply, no laundry supply, no trained-servant supply, nor untrained\neither for that matter, except when some native can and will lend you a\nslave to help you or when you can buy one--which, under ordinary\ncircumstances is a very doubtful practice, as, though in buying the\nperson you are literally freeing him, the natives are apt to\nmisinterpret the motive, and unless you are very fortunate in your\npurchase, the slave may bring you into conflict with the powers that\nbe, owing to their law which recognises no freedom except that\nconferred by birth. After all this is seen to day by day, where is the\ntime and strength for comprehensive and consecutive work of a more\ndirectly evangelistic and teaching type?--specially when the latter is\nmanned year by year by the magnificent total of one individual. Is it\nfair to expect results under such circumstances?\"\n\n\n\n\n                    XXXI. THE PASSING OF THE CHIEFS\n\nIn the year 1896 Miss Slessor realised that she was no longer in the\ncentre of her people. Like all agricultural populations addicted to\nprimitive methods of cultivation, they had gradually moved on to richer\nlands elsewhere. Even Ma Erne had gone to a farm some distance away. A\nmarket had been opened at a place called Akpap, farther inland and\nnearer the Cross River, and farms and villages had grown up around it,\nand she saw that it would be necessary to follow the population there.\nThe Calabar Committee--a Committee had succeeded the Presbytery--was at\nfirst doubtful of the wisdom of transferring the station, largely owing\nto the remoteness and inaccessibility of the new site, the nearest\nlanding-place being six miles away, at Ikunetu on the Cross River.\nThere was some advantage in this, however, for the Mission launch was\nconstantly moving up and down the waterway. The voyage was between low,\nbush-covered banks broken by vistas of cool green inlets, with here a\ntall palm tree or bunch of feathery bamboos, and there a cluster of\nhuts, while canoes were frequently passed laden with hogsheads of palm\noil for the factory, or a little dug-out containing a solitary fisher.\nThe track from Ikunetu to Akpap was the ordinary shady bush path,\nbordered by palms, bananas, orange trees, ferns, and orchids, but in\nthe wet season it was overgrown with thick grass, higher than one's\nhead, which made a guide necessary, since one trail in the African\nforest looks exactly like another.\n\nAfter some consideration it was decided to sanction the change, and to\nbuild a good Mission House with a beach shed at Ikunetu. Long before\nthe house was built, however, and even before it was begun, Mary\ninstalled herself at Akpap, in conditions similar to those of her first\nyear at Ekenge. Her home consisted of a small shed of two divisions,\nwithout windows or floor, into which she and the children and the\nfurniture were packed. And from this humble abode, as from a palace,\nshe ruled Okoyong with all the dignity and power of a queen. Never had\nher days been so busy or her nights so broken and sleepless. No\nquarrel, tribal or domestic, no question of difficulty of any kind, was\nsettled other than in the Mission hut. Sometimes the strain was almost\ngreater than she could bear. There was much sickness among the\nchildren, and an infectious native disease, introduced by a new baby,\ncaused the death of four. Matters were not mended by an epidemic of\nsmall-pox, which swept over the country and carried off hundreds of the\npeople. For hours every day she was employed in vaccinating all who\ncame to her. Mr. Alexander, who was the engineer of the Mission at this\ntime--the natives called him _et\u00fabom ubom nsu\u00f1ika\u00f1_ \"captain of the\nsmoking canoe\"--remembers arriving when her supply of lymph had run\nout, and of assisting her with a penknife from the arms of those who\nhad already been inoculated.\n\nThe outbreak was severe at Ekenge, and she went over and converted her\nold house into a hospital. The people who were attacked flocked to it,\nbut all who could fled from the plague-stricken scene, and she was\nunable to secure any one to nurse the patients or bury them when they\ndied. She was saddened by the loss of many friends. Ekpenyong was\nseized and succumbed, and she committed his body to the earth. Then\nEdem, her own chief, caught the infection, and she braced herself to\nsave him. She could not forget his kindness and consideration for her\nthroughout all these years, and she fought for his life day and night,\ntending him with the utmost solicitude and patience. It was in vain. He\npassed away in the middle of the night. She was alone, but with her own\nhands she fashioned a coffin and placed him into it, and with her own\nhands she dug a grave and buried him. Then turning from the ghostly\nspot with its melancholy community of dead and dying, she tramped\nthrough the dark and dew-sodden forest to Akpap, where, utterly\nexhausted, she threw herself on her bed as the land was whitening\nbefore the dawn.\n\nTowards the village that day two white men made their way,--Mr. Ovens,\nwho was coming to build a Mission House, and Mr. Alexander who had\nbrought him up. When they arrived at the little shed it was eleven\no'clock in the forenoon. All was quiet. \"Something wrong,\" remarked Mr.\nAlexander, and they moved quickly to the hut. A weak voice answered\ntheir knock and call, and on gaining entrance they found \"Ma\" tired and\nheavy-eyed. \"I had only just now fallen asleep,\" she confessed. But it\nwas not for some time that they learned where she had been and what she\nhad done.\n\nWhen, two days later, Mr. Alexander went over to bring some material\nfrom the old house, he found it full of corpses and not a soul to be\nseen. The place was never fit for habitation again, and gradually it\nwas engulfed in bush and vanished from the face of the earth.\n\nConditions were the same far and wide, and her heart was full of pity\nfor the helpless people, \"Heartrending accounts,\" she wrote, \"come from\nup-country, where the people, panic-stricken, are fleeing and leaving\nthe dead and dying in their houses, only to be stricken down themselves\nin the bush. They have no helper up there, and know of no Saviour. I am\njust thinking that perhaps the reason God has taken my four bairns is\nthat I may be free to go up and help them. If the brethren say that I\nshould go I shall.\"\n\nIt is not surprising that these events had a depressing effect upon\nher; she said she had no heart for anything. It was an unusual note to\ncome from her, and indicated that her strength was waning. The presence\nof Mr. Ovens was a help; his sense of humour seasoned the days, and he\nmade light of difficulty and trial, though he was far from comfortable.\nOne of the divisions in the shed had been turned over to him, she and\nher children crowding into the other. The place was infested by ants\nand lizards, and all night the rats used his body as a springboard to\nreach the roof. There was always one scene in the strange household\nwhich touched him with a feeling of pathos and reverence--family\nworship in the evening. A light from a small lamp illumined the\ninterior. Miss Slessor sat on the mud-floor with her back resting on\nthe wall. Squatting before her in a half-circle were the girls and boys\nof the house. Behind these were ranged a number of baskets filled with\ntwin babies. \"Ma\" spoke and prayed very simply and naturally. Then a\nhymn of her own composition was sung in Efik to the tune of \"Rothesay\nBay,\" she accompanying it with a tambourine. If the attention of the\ngirls wandered she would lean forward and tap them on the head with the\ninstrument.\n\nOne human solace never failed her--the letters from home. How eagerly\nshe longed for them! How they lifted her out of her surroundings and\nchased away for a time the moral miasma that surrounded her and often\nseemed to choke her as if it were physical. Some one wrote about the\nSynod meetings. \"It is easy to be good,\" she said, \"with all the holy\nand helpful influences about you. Fancy a crowd of Christians that fill\nthe Synod Hall! It makes me envious to read about it. Away up here\namong heathenism, working away with the twos and the threes and the\ntens, one almost forgets that there are crowds who would die for\nChrist. But, with all their imperfections, there are, and we are not in\na losing cause at all. I am seldom in Duke Town or Creek Town, and hear\nlittle in the way of sermons, and have little of the outward help you\nhave. But Christ is here and the Holy Spirit, and if I am seldom in a\ntriumphant or ecstatic mood I am always satisfied and happy in His\nlove.\"\n\nHer furlough was overdue, but there was a difficulty in filling her\nplace, and she would not leave the people alone. Meanwhile she kept\n\"drudging away\" as well as she could from dawn till dark. People were\ncoming to her now from far-off spots, many from across the river from\nunknown regions who had never seen a white person before, drawn to her\nby the fame of her goodness and power. At first they sat outside, and\nwould not cook or eat or drink inside the compound because of the\ntwins, but by and by they gained courage and mixed with the household.\nThe majority of these people were neither bright nor good-looking, but\nshe only saw souls that were precious in the sight of her Master. In\none of her letters she describes what was the daily scene: \"Four at my\nfeet listening; five boys outside getting a reading-lesson from Janie;\na man lying on the ground who has run away from his master and is\ntaking refuge until I get him forgiven; an old chief with a girl who\nhas a bad ulcer; a woman begging for my intervention with her husband;\na nice girl with heavy leglets from her knee to the ankles, with pieces\nof cloth wrapped round to prevent the skin being cut, whom I am\nteaching; and three for vaccination.\"\n\nOn the last night of the year she wrote: \"My bairns have been made\nhappy and myself glad by a handsome Christmas box from the Consul-\nGeneral and Colonel Boisragon of our Consular staff. They were up with\na party, and spent the greater part of three days with me, trying to do\ngood among my people: and they have sent dolls and sweets and fruit and\nbiscuits, and many useful things for the house, and a carpenter to mend\nmy stair, and plane and rehang my doors. He is here now doing odds and\nends about the house, so I feel quite cheered up. He (the Consul) must\nhave gone to a steamer and got all these things for us, for there are\nno such things for sale here, and it shows how much interested he is in\nmission work. It is seldom, comparatively, that Government officials\ncare for these things.\"\n\n\n\n\n                        XXXII. CLOTHED BY FAITH\n\nAs Mr. Ovens was at Akpap engaged on the new Mission House the Calabar\nCommittee decided to send her home in 1898 whether they could supply\nthe station or not. \"It will be rather trying to get back to the home\nkind of life and language,\" she said; \"but I shall just want a place to\nhide in: away from conventionalities and all the paraphernalia of\ncivilisation.\" Her chief problem was the disposal of the children, whom\nshe dreaded to leave under native influences. There were so few\nmissionaries in the field then that it was difficult to find homes for\nthem. She settled two babies, some of her girls, and the former slave-\nwoman with a lady agent. The rest she made up her mind to take with\nher. It was a daring thing to do, but doing daring things was her\nnormal habit. She justified herself to a friend by saying that Janie\nwas now a big girl and a great help. Mary was five years old and able\nto fend for herself; Alice was about three and fairly independent, and\nMaggie was sixteen months, and could sit about and be easily amused.\n\nThe next problem was how to equip both herself and her retinue for the\nvoyage. Her wardrobe had been gradually deplenished in the bush, and\nduring her illnesses ants had eaten up all that remained. She and the\nchildren had nothing but the old garments they had on. But she was not\ndismayed: in the simplicity of her faith she believed that the Master\nknew her difficulty, and would come to her aid and provide all her\nneeds. And she was not disappointed.\n\nWhen at Duke Town, preparatory to departure, a box from Renfield Street\nChurch, Glasgow, arrived for her, and she went down to the beach and\nopened it to see if it contained anything she might require. And\neverything she required was there, including many knitted and woollen\narticles--a most uncommon circumstance. There was also a shawl--\"I do\nnot know what I should have done without that on the voyage,\" she said.\nThe ladies of the Mission took the cloth and flannelette and soon had\nthe whole party fitted out. In acknowledging the box she begged the\ngivers not to be vexed at what she had done: the articles had been used\nin the service of Christ as much as if they had been distributed in\nOkoyong.\n\nShe was so far spent that she was carried on board. On the voyage she\nreceived much kindness, and believing that God was behind it all she\naccepted everything as from Him and was very grateful. Her simple faith\nin the goodness of her kind was shown by the fact that the telegram she\ndespatched on arriving at Liverpool to Mrs. M'Crindle, Joppa, was the\nfirst intimation that lady received that she was coming. And at the\nrailway station she confidingly handed her purse to the porter, asking\nhim to take it and buy the tickets, Mrs. M'Crindle met her at the\nWaverley Station, Edinburgh. There was the usual bustle on the arrival\nof a train from the South. The sight of a little black girl being\nhanded down from the carriage caused a mild stir, when another came the\ninterest increased, when a third dropped down a crowd gathered, when a\nfourth stepped out the cabmen and porters forgot their fares and\nstared, wondering who the slight, foreign-looking lady could be who had\nbrought so strange a family.\n\n\n\n\n                        XXXIII. THE SHY SPEAKER\n\nEagerly looked for after her heroic service in Okoyong she received a\nwarm welcome from her friends in the United Presbyterian Church. For\nsome weeks she lived at Joppa, and then anxious to be independent she\ntook a small house near at hand, where she and Janie managed the work\nand cooking. It was not a very comfortable _m\u00e9nage_, and Miss Adam, one\nof the \"chief women\" of the Church and Convener of the Zenana Mission\nCommittee, made arrangements for her and the children staying at\nBowden, St. Boswells. Here, looking down upon a beautiful expanse of\nhistoric border country, she spent a quiet and restful time. As her\nvitality and spirits came back she began to address meetings, and found\nthat the interest in her work had deepened and extended.\n\nShe was, if anything, shyer than ever, and would not speak before men.\nAt a drawing-room gathering in Glasgow the husband of the lady of the\nhouse and two well-known ministers were present. She rose to give an\naddress, but no words came. Turning to the men she said, \"Will the\ngentlemen kindly go away?\" The lady of the house said it would be a\ngreat disappointment to them not to hear her, \"Then,\" she replied,\n\"will they kindly go and sit where I cannot see them?\" When she began\nto speak she seemed to forget her diffidence, and she held the little\naudience spell-bound. At a Stirling meeting a gentleman slipped in.\nAfter a slight pause she said, \"If the gentleman in the meeting would\nhide behind the lady in front of him I would be more at my ease.\" On\nanother occasion she fled from the platform when called on to speak,\nand it was only with difficulty that she was brought back. When people\nbegan to praise her she slipped out and remained away until they had\nfinished.\n\n\"She was a most gentle-looking lady,\" writes one who heard her then,\n\"rather below the average height, a complexion like yellow parchment,\nand short lank brown hair: a most pleasing expression and winning\nsmile, and when she spoke I thought I had never heard such a musical\nvoice.\" She went to her home-city, Aberdeen, and addressed a meeting in\nBelmont Street Church, which her mother had attended; and of her power\nof speech the Rev. Dr. Beatt, the minister, who was in the chair, says:\n\"It was characterised by a simple diction, a tearful sympathy, a\nrestrained passion, and a pleading love for her people, which made it\ndifficult to listen to her without deep emotion.\" At one meeting in\nGlasgow she spent an hour shaking hands. \"What a lot of love there is\nin the world after all,\" she said gratefully. She received such a\nreception at a meeting in Edinburgh that she broke down. Recovering\nherself she earnestly denied that her work was more remarkable than\nthat of any other missionary in Calabar: \"They all work as hard or\nharder than I do.\" She went on to plead for an ordained missionary for\nOkoyong. \"I feel that my work there is done, I can teach them no more.\nI would like to go farther inland and make a home among a tribe of\ncannibals.\"\n\nMany a stirring appeal she made for workers.\n\n\"If missions are a failure,\" she said, \"it is our failure and not\nGod's. If we only prayed and had more faith what a difference it would\nmake! In Calabar we are going back every day. For years we have been\ngoing back. The China Inland Mission keep on asking for men, men, men,\nand they get what they want and more than we get. We keep calling for\nmoney, money, money, and we get money--of great value in its place--but\nnot the men and the women. Where are they? When Sir Herbert Kitchener,\ngoing out to conquer the Soudan required help, thousands of the\nbrightest of our young men were ready. Where are the soldiers of the\nCross? In a recent war in Africa in a region with the same climate and\nthe same malarial swamp as Calabar there were hundreds of officers and\nmen offering their services, and a Royal Prince went out. But the\nbanner of the Cross goes a-begging. Why should the Queen have good\nsoldiers and not the King of Kings?\"\n\nHer nervous timidity was often curiously exhibited. She was, for\ninstance, afraid of crowds, and she would never cross a city street\nalone; and once, when she was proceeding to a village meeting she would\nnot take a short cut through a field because there was a cow in it. Yet\nshe was never lacking in high courage when the need arose. At a meeting\nin Edinburgh several addresses had been delivered, and the collection\nwas announced. As is often the case the audience drew a sigh of relief,\nrelaxed attention, and made a stir in changing positions. Some began to\nwhisper and to carry on a conversation with those sitting near them.\nShe stood the situation as long as she could, then rose, and spoke,\nregardless of all the dignitaries about her, and rebuked the audience\nfor their want of reverence. Were they not presenting their offerings\nto the Lord? Was that not as much an act of worship as singing and\npraying? How then could they behave in such a thoughtless and\nunbecoming manner? There was something of scorn in her voice as she\ncontrasted the way in which the Calabar converts presented their\nofferings with that of the well-educated Edinburgh audience. When she\nsat down it was amidst profound silence. \"That is a brave woman,\" was\nthe thought of many.\n\nWith her bairns she left towards the end of the year (1898), Miss Adam\naccompanying them to Liverpool to see them safely on board. A more\nnotable person than she realised, she was sought out by a special\nrepresentative of Reuter's Agency and interviewed. Her story of the\nsuperstitious practices connected with the birth of twins in West\nAfrica had the element of horror which makes good \"copy,\" and most of\nthe newspapers in the kingdom next day gave a long description of these\ncustoms and of her work of rescue. Incidentally she stated that up to\nthat time she had saved fifty-one twins from destruction. She thought\nnothing of this talk with the reporter, never mentioning it to any one,\nand was unaware of the wide publicity accorded to her remarks. She\nspent Christmas on board the steamer. Again every one was kind to her,\nthe officers and stewards vying with each other in showing her\nattention. All along the coast she was well known, and invitations came\nfrom officials at Government headquarters, but these she modestly\ndeclined. She was interested in all things that interested others, and\nwould discuss engineering and railway extension and trade prices and\nthe last new book as readily as mission work and policy. The children\nshe kept in the background, as she had done in Scotland, and would not\nallow them to be spoiled. On arrival in Calabar they were much made of,\nand it was only the experienced Janie who did not like the process.\n\n\n\n\n                            XXXIV. ISOLATION\n\nAn exceptionally trying experience followed. Arrangements had been made\nby the Committee in Scotland for the better staffing of the station,\nbut these broke down, and for the next three years she worked alone,\nher isolation only being relieved by an occasional visit from the lady\nmissionaries in Calabar. During that long period she fought, single-\nhanded, a double battle in the depths of the forest. She was\nincessantly at war with the evils that were still rife about her, and\nshe had to struggle against long spells of low fever and sleeplessness.\nAnd right bravely did she engage in the task, conquering her ill-health\nby sheer will-power, and gaining an ever greater personal ascendancy\nover the people.\n\n\n 1. A Mother in Israel\n\nThe gradual pacification of Okoyong brought about by her influence and\nauthority increased rather than diminished her work. As the people\nsettled down to orderly occupations and trade the land became valuable,\nand disputes were constantly cropping up regarding ownerships and\nboundaries. There was much underground palavering, of which no one knew\nbut herself, which kept her always on the strain. She had to mother the\nwhole tribe, and it took all her patience and tact to prevent them\nreverting to their old violent practices. A Government official of that\ntime, who had to enquire into a number of cases over which there had\nbeen correspondence with her, says, \"I stayed with 'Ma' and had my\nfirst lesson in how to deal with natives. It did not require very long\nfor even a 'fresher' to see what a power in the land she was. All came\nto her in any kind of trouble. As an interpreter she made every palaver\nan easy one to settle, by the fact that she could represent to each\nside accurately what the other party wished to convey.\"\n\nHer fame had gone still farther, and people were now coming from places\na hundred miles distant to see the wonderful person who was ruling the\nland and doing away with all the evil fashions. And what did they see?\nA powerful Sultana sitting in a palace with an army at her command? No.\nOnly a weak woman in a lowly house surrounded by a number of helpless\nchildren. But they, too, came under her mysterious spell. They told her\nof all the troubles that perplexed their lives, and she gave them\nadvice and helped them. In one week she had deputations from four\ndifferent tribes, each with a tale of wrong and oppression. Innocent\npeople fled to her to escape the fate decreed by the witch-doctor:\nguilty people sheltered with her, knowing that they were sure at least\nof nothing worse than justice. She welcomed them all, and to all she\nspoke of the Saviour, and strove to bring them to His feet. And none\nwent away without carrying some of the fragrance of that knowledge, and\nin remote districts unvisited by the white man it lingered for years,\nso that when missionaries went there later on they would come across a\nman or a woman who said, \"Oh, I know all about Jesus, the White Mother\nonce told me.\"\n\nShe was so interested in these strangers that the desire came to know\nmore about them and their surroundings, and she made numerous trips up\nthe Cross River by Mission steamer and canoe and visited the townships\non the banks. On one of these journeys she felt for the first time that\ndeath was at her side. A dispute had arisen between Okoyong and Umon,\nand the Umon people, strong in the belief that she would mete out\njustice even against her own tribe, begged her to come and decide the\nquarrel. It was a long day's journey for the best walkers, \"but,\" said\nshe, \"if they can do it in a day, so can I.\" A well-manned canoe was,\nhowever, sent for her, and she proceeded in it with some of the twin-\nchildren. They were speeding down a narrow creek leading into the\nriver, a man standing with his paddle at the bow to negotiate the canoe\npast the logs and trees, when a hippopotamus, which was attended by its\nyoung, rose immediately in front and attacked it savagely. The man at\nthe bow instantly thrust the paddle into the gaping mouth, and shoved\nthe canoe violently to one side. Mary seized some large tin basins with\ncovers, which the natives used for holding cooked food, and placed them\noutside in front of the part where the children were sitting, and where\nthe infuriated hippopotamus was trying to grip and upset the canoe.\nThese curious weapons succeeded in baffling the monster. Several times\nit made a rush and failed. The shouting, the snapping of the jaws, the\nwhirling of the paddles, the cries of the children--\"_O Abasi ibom Ete\nnya\u00f1a nyin mbok O!_\" (\"O God, Father, please save us, Oh!\")--almost\nunnerved her. The hippo at last made for the stern, where some of the\npaddlers beat it off and kept it at bay long enough to enable the\nothers to turn the canoe and rush it out of its reach.\n\nBut she could not now afford to be long away from her station, for the\nutmost vigilance was required to combat the evils around her. In spite\nof British laws and gunboats twin-murder continued in secret. She\nnoticed, however, that where the people came within the influence of\nthe Mission their fears gradually disappeared. What pleased her was\nthat women to whom she had been kind voluntarily brought in twins to\nher that would otherwise have been killed. One day she and Mr.\nAlexander were sitting at breakfast when a woman walked in, and without\nremark placed a large calabash on the table. Mary thought it was a dish\nof native food and said, \"You have come too late, we have just\nfinished.\" Still the woman was silent. Mary opened the calabash and\nfound that it contained two twin boys.\n\nThere were other promising signs. The mother of a twin baby who was\nsaved came to the Mission House and lived there, working at the farm\nduring the day. One master took a twin and the mother home. All his\nother wives at once gathered up their children and left him, but he\nremained firm. As the woman had been a neighbour of \"Ma's\" at Ekenge,\nit is probable that her influence had told on her then. But the\noutstanding event in this direction was that a twin boy was taken home\nby his parents, who were determined to keep him. The affair made a\ngreat stir, but she told all the chiefs that she would stand by the\nparents, and if they dared to say a word or trace any calamity to the\nfamily she would \"make palaver.\" They were grimly silent, but could not\ndispute her word. She believed that their attitude was only due to\nfear, which would die away if a stand were made.\n\nHer work in school and Bible Class was beginning to tell. Six of the\nbest boys of free birth and good standing whom she was training were\nnow Christians, and working in the villages around. Two, sons of the\nmost powerful chiefs in the district, took the reading and another was\nthe speaker. It was not much to boast of perhaps. \"I feel the smallness\nof the returns\" she said, \"but is the labour lost? A thousand times\nNo!\"\n\n\n 2. _The Cares of a Household_\n\nHer most trying fight during these years was with ill-health. She was\nnow occupying the new house, which she pronounced \"lovely,\" but it was\nhotter than any she had lived in, and she often sighed for \"her lowly\nmud-hut\" again. At one time she was three months in bed, and recovery\nwas always a slow and weary process. The people were afraid she would\nhave to go to Scotland and came and assisted her in every way, while\nher boy scholars maintained the services. But often she would struggle\nup and conduct the Sunday meetings herself, although it meant a\nsleepless night. \"I am ashamed to confess,\" she wrote, \"that our poor\nwee services here take as much out of me as the great meetings at home\ndid.\" To fill in the wakeful hours she would rise in the middle of the\nnight, light a candle, and answer a batch of correspondence. There were\nfriends to whom she did not require to write often: \"Ours is like the\nlife above, we do not need to tell; we can go on loving and praying,\nbut this is a rare thing in the world.\" Others were not so considerate.\nSome of her letters at this period are marked \"Midnight,\" \"3 A.M.,\"\n\"Just before dawn,\" and so on. But more often she was unable to sit up,\nand was too tired to write, and lay thinking of her last visit home,\nand particularly of her sojourn at Bowden; \"I never had such a time; I\nlive everything all over again during these sleepless nights; it grips\nme more than my real home life of long ago.\"\n\nShe never grumbled to her correspondents, even when in the grip of\nnervous debility. Her letters are filled with loving enquiries about\npeople, especially young people, at home. She kept them all in mind,\nfollowed their lives with interest, and was always anxious to know if\nthey had consecrated themselves to the service of Christ. \"Life is so\ngreat and so grand,\" she would write, and \"eternity is so real and so\nterrible in its issues. Surely my lads out here are not to take the\ncrown from my boys at home.\"\n\nNow and again, however, a strain of sadness is perceptible in her\nletters, perhaps due to the state of her health and her isolation, as\nwell as the outlook abroad, which was then unrestful. \"All is dark,\"\nshe said, \"except above. Calvary stands safe and sure.\" Often she\nwondered what worldlings did in the midst of all their entanglements\nand the mysteries of life and death without some higher hope and\nstrength. \"Life apart from Christ,\" she would say, \"is a dreadful\ngift.\"\n\nHer own future loomed uncertain, and the thought of the children began\nto weigh upon her mind: \"It is not likely I shall ever go home again. I\nfeel as if I did not want to. How could I leave the bairns in this\ndreadful land? Who would mother them in this sink of iniquity?\" And\nsoon afterwards she wrote: \"I do not think I could bear the parting\nwith my children again. If I be spared a few years more I shall have a\nbit of land and build a wee house of my own near one of the principal\nstations, and just stay out my days there with my bairns and lie down\namong them. They need a mother's care and a mother's love more than\never as they grow up among heathen people, and I could do a little,\nthrough them, for the dark homes and hearts around, and it would be a\nhouse and home for them when I am gone, where the missionaries could be\nnear them.\"\n\nJanie, the faithful, unselfish soul who had been with her from\nbabyhood, was at last married. \"Her husband,\" she said, \"is my best\nscholar, and if his social standing is not the highest, he is a real\ncompanion to her and to my bairns, who worship him.\" The ceremony was\nperformed by \"Ma,\" and the entry, in Efik, in a tiny marriage register\nruns as follows:--\n\n\n_December 21, 1899.\n\nJanie Annan took oath before Obon (chief), Okon Ekpo, and Erne Ete,\nthat she will marry Akibo Eyo alone, Akibo also took oath that he will\nmarry Jane alone. They went to the farm with Eme Ete.\n\nM.M.S._\n\n\nThe break in the family life gave her much more to do, but Janie--or\nJean as she was now more often called--still clung to her, and spent\nmuch time at the Mission House attending to the babies as before, her\nhusband not objecting to her handling the twins, and even allowing her\nto take one home to her house during the day. But difficulty and\ndisappointment came, as they so often do in Africa, and once more Jean\nbecame an inmate of the household, in which she was to remain to the\nend. One day a baby arrived whose mother had died after giving it\nbirth, and she took it and made it her special child. This was Dan\nMacArthur Slessor--called after a home friend of the Mission--a black\nboy who was to become almost as well known in Scotland as Jean herself.\n\nBy and by with returning strength the house-mother was able to resume\nher old strenuous ways from cock-crow till star-shine. The cares of her\nhousehold never grew fewer. \"Housekeeping in the bush,\" she would\nremark, \"means so much more as well as so much less than in Scotland.\nThere are no 'at homes,' no drawing-room ornaments to dust, no starched\ndresses, but on the other hand there are no butchers or bakers or\nnurses or washerwomen, and so I have to keep my shoulder to the wheel\nboth indoors and out of doors.\" There were defects in the situation;\nshe did not need other people to tell her that; she was often\noverwhelmed with the multitude of her duties, at her wits' end to\nmanage all the children. \"I have only three girls at present,\" she\nwrites, \"and I have nine babies, and what with the washing and the\nschool and the palavers and the visitors, you may be sure there are no\ndrones in this house.\" Sometimes she would stand in a state of\npretended distraction and repeat--\n\n_\"There was an old woman who lived in a shoe, She had so many children\nshe didn't know what to do.\"_\n\nShe was not a housewife in the real sense, although she knew domestic\neconomy with the best, and there were days when she arose in her might\nand introduced order and tidiness, but matters soon fell back into the\nnormal conditions. She was always quite candid about her deficiencies.\n\"I have not an elaborate system or method of work; it is just\neverything as it comes. I am afraid my mind is not a trained machine.\nIt only works as it chooses.\"\n\nYet no family of white children could have been more cared for or\nloved. She endeavoured to make Sunday a specially pleasant day for\nthem, and tea then was always a happy function. All sat at a big table\nin the hall--Jean, Mana, Annie, Mary, Alice, and Maggie, with bunches\nof small boys and girls on the floor. It was then that boxes of\ndelicacies from home were opened and devoured. How grateful she was to\nall her friends! \"The gifts,\" she would write, \"are veiled in a mist of\nlove, real Scottish love, reticent but deep and strong, full of pathos\nand prayer; the dear love inspired in our strong rugged Scots character\nby the Holy Ghost and moulded by our beloved Presbyterianism of the\nolden time; love that does not forget with the passing years.\" Two\nyears after she returned she related cheerfully that she was still\nwearing the dress that had been given to her on furlough as her best on\nthe occasions when Government officials called upon her.\n\nShe saw pathos in these gifts, but none of that deeper pathos which lay\nin her own life. She saw nothing to grieve about in her own position,\nbut only in the empty houses along the Cross River. She was not anxious\nabout herself, but desperately anxious about the extension of Roman\nCatholic influence in Calabar. \"To think,\" she exclaimed, \"that all our\nblood and treasure, love and sacrifice and prayer, should have been\ngiven to make a place for them.\"\n\nFrom her house in the bush she had been eagerly watching the sweep of\nthat great movement which culminated in 1900 in the union of the United\nPresbyterian and Free Churches of Scotland. She loved the blue banner\nof the United Presbyterian Church, and one of her constant admonitions\nto the younger generation was to carry on the grand old traditions. At\nfirst she had been inclined to favour a kind of fraternal federation,\neach denomination keeping its distinctive principles, but she came to\nbelieve in the transfusion of the two streams of spiritual life.\n\n\"We must not forget,\" she wrote, \"that the Free Church people were met\nat the Disruption by an empty exchequer and a confusion and blank that\ntaxed all their energies. It took them such hard work in those days to\nget churches and homes for themselves that they got a bias that way,\nand the outlook to the 'other sheep' may not have been so wide as that\nof our forefathers. These used the little prayer-houses and humble\nmeeting-places for prayer and preaching: they were men nursed in\npersecution and contempt and poverty, and they reaped God's\ncompensations in a detachment from the world, and in the grit and\nspirituality and faith and unity which stress and persecution breed.\nAnd we have inherited it all, and it is our contribution to the Church\nlife of to-day.\"\n\nHer hope was that the Union might create a new and enlarged interest in\nthe foreign field and fill up the ranks in Calabar; but she was to be\ndisappointed in this, and she often expressed the view that the Mission\nto which she had given her heart and life had been swallowed up, and\nhad somehow lost its individuality....\n\nInto the United Free Church the United Presbyterians brought thirty-\neight women missionaries and one hundred and eighty-five women agents,\nand the Free Church brought sixty European women missionaries and ten\nEurasians, and nearly four hundred native women agents, making, on the\nwomen's side of the work alone, a total missionary staff in round\nnumbers of one hundred European workers assisted by nearly six hundred\nlocal agents, and all these were now put under a new body, the Women's\nForeign Mission Committee, composed of some of the most gifted and\nconsecrated minds of the Church.\n\n\n\n\n                       XXXV. EXILED TO CREEK TOWN\n\nA dramatic public event which vitally affected her own life and the\ncourse of the mission enterprise brought her seclusion to an end. The\nstory belongs more to the next phase of her career, but may be briefly\nnoticed here. With the extension of British influence into the interior\nof the continent the form of Government had undergone another\ndevelopment. Two protectorates were formed, Northern and Southern\nNigeria, and Sir Ralph Moor was appointed High Commissioner of the\nlatter. The same policy of pacifying and \"cleaning up\" the country\ncontinued; but there were still large stretches practically untouched\nby the agents of the Government, including the territory lying between\nthe Cross River and the Niger, in the upper part of which slave-raiding\nand trading went on as it had done for centuries. The Aros, a powerful\ntribe who controlled the juju worship, were the people responsible for\nthis evil. They would not submit to the new conditions, continued to\nmake war on peaceable tribes, and indulged in human sacrifices, blocked\nthe trade routes, and resisted the authority of the Government. One\nofficer was only able to penetrate fifteen miles west of the Cross\nRiver, not without perilous experiences, and then was obliged to beat a\nrapid retreat to escape being killed and eaten. The Government was very\npatient and conciliatory; but it became absolutely necessary at last to\ndespatch a small expedition, and a field force was organised at Calabar\nfor the purpose. Dr. Rattray of the Mission staff was attached to it as\nmedical officer. The Aros did not wait for the advance; they raided a\nvillage only fifteen miles from Ikorofiong, and, as a precaution, all\nthe missionaries upriver were ordered down to Duke and Creek Towns.\n\nOkoyong was unmoved by these matters, \"Ma\" Slessor's authority was\nsupreme, but while the Government believed that all would be well, they\nthought it better that she should also come to Calabar until the\ntrouble was over. Very much against her will she complied. They sent up\na special convoy for her, and treated her with all consideration. They\neven offered to build a house at Creek Town for her and her large\nfamily; but she did not wish to become too closely identified with the\nGovernment, and declined their kindly assistance. She found\naccommodation in part of the hospital, where, however, she had no\nprivacy, and was not very comfortable.\n\nIt was the first time she had been in Calabar since her arrival three\nyears before, and she was not happy. She was never otherwise than ill,\nand she longed to get away from the crowd and \"the bright, the terribly\nbright sky.\" The children also were unwell. But there were\ncompensations. The Okoyong people kept steady during the unrest, and\nremained true to their Queen. They came down to see her, brought all\ntheir disputes for her to settle, and loaded her with gifts of food,\nwhich were very acceptable, as prices had risen. Her lads kept on the\nservices, and the people attended regularly. She heard good news of the\ntwins, which the mothers had taken in order to relieve her; they were\nin four different homes in four different districts, and nothing had\nbeen said by the people. One of her oldest friends, the wife of a big\nchief, a wealthy leisured woman, bore twins. She instantly wrote to the\nchief telling him to put her into a canoe and send her down to Creek\nTown. \"I am sorry for her,\" she said, \"but we cannot make different\nlaws for the rich and for the poor, and yet one may press too far with\na chief, and incite rebellion. After all we are foreigners, and they\nown the country, so I always try to make the law fit in, while we\nadjust things between us.\"\n\nA campaign of three months sufficed to break the power of the Aros, but\nlong before that she was wearying to be back in Okoyong. At last she\nappealed to the Commissioner. He asked her to wait until a certain\nmovement of troops was completed. Smilingly she replied that she would\nbe off at the first opportunity--and she went.\n\nHer enforced sojourn in Creek Town was followed by the best results.\nNew missionaries had come out in whom she became interested. The one to\nwhom she owed most was the Rev. A. W. Wilkie, B.D., who soon afterwards\nmarried a daughter of Dr. George Robson, the Editor of the _Missionary\nRecord_. With these two she formed a friendship which was to prove one\nof the joys of her life. Mr. Wilkie understood her from the first; his\nkeen insight enabled him to explore a character that was growing ever\nmore complex, and he possessed that quality of understanding sympathy\nto which alone her sensitive nature responded.\n\nShe enjoyed meeting these young workers who had come to carry on the\ntraditions of the Mission; she liked them because of their eagerness\nand energy and their desire to do things. All her knowledge was at\ntheir disposal, and she would tell them of the golden days of the past\nand describe the characteristics and superstitions of the people as\nwell as speak of the higher things of life. Some of them thought her\nthe most fascinating woman they had ever met. \"Her talks,\" they\ndeclared, \"are better than medicine.\" Many a wise bit of counsel she\npassed on to her sister missionaries. \"She gave me at the very\nbeginning of life in Calabar,\" says one, \"a piece of advice that I have\nnever forgotten, and which has comforted me over and over again. I was\nsaying that in a place like Duke Town it was so difficult to know\nexactly what to do, and she said, '_Do?_ lassie, _do?_ You've not got\nto do, you've just got to _be_, and the doing will follow.'\" \"Make a\nbold stand for purity of speech and charity of judgment,\" she told\nanother, \"and let none of the froth that rises to the top of the life\naround you vex or disturb your peace.\" Many acknowledged that they had\ntheir lives enriched, their faith strengthened, and their work helped\nby contact with her.\n\n\n\n\n                     XXXVI. PICTURES AND IMPRESSIONS\n\nThe younger missionaries began to frequent Akpap, and from the accounts\nof their visits we obtain some unstudied and vivid pictures of \"Ma\" and\nher household. This slight woman with the shrunk and colourless skin,\nthe remarkable deep-set eyes, and the Scots tongue, so poor in the\ngifts of the world, so rich in the qualities of the spirit, made a deep\nimpression upon them, although it is a question whether they ever fully\nunderstood all she was and did. They lived in the European atmosphere,\nshe in the native; they noticed only superficial aspects, she moved\ndeep beneath the surface amongst conditions of which they were only\ndimly aware.\n\n\"We walk for five or six miles along the pleasant bush path,\" writes\none, \"and as we near the big trees and the clearing round the Mission\nHouse, children's voices cry, 'Ma is coming,' and a sweet, somewhat\nstrident voice inquires, 'What Ma? Jean put the kettle on, Jean put the\nkettle on.' 'And we'll all have tea,' sings out my friend. 'How are\nyou, Ma?' for we have reached the verandah, and 'Ma,' eagerly\nhospitable, is giving us a royal welcome.\" She was usually found\nbarefooted and bareheaded, with a twin-baby in her arms and a swarm of\nchildren about her, or on the roof nailing down the sheet-iron which a\ntornado had shifted, or holding a palaver from the verandah, or sitting\nin Court, but always busy. \"No one can have much time for rest here,\"\nwas the verdict of one missionary after a short stay. \"Her power,\"\nwrote another, \"is amazing; she is really Queen of the whole of Okoyong\ndistrict. The High Commissioner and his staff leave the administration\nof it in her hands. It is wonderful to see the grip she has of the most\nintricate native and political questions of the country. The people\ntell me she knows their language better than they do themselves, and\nthat they appeal to her on their own customs and laws. She has done a\nmagnificent work, and the people have a deeper reverence for her than\nyou can imagine. When they speak of her their tones change. One thing I\nnoticed, she never allowed a native to sit in her presence. She keeps\nthem all at a respectful distance, although when they are ill,\nsometimes with the most loathsome diseases, she will nurse them; and\nshe never shakes hands with them. She told the High Commissioner to do\nso with some--but for herself, never! When I asked her the reason she\nlooked at me and said simply, 'I live alone.'\"\n\nThe reference to her command of the language bears out what all\ncompetent observers have stated. Some missionaries retain their accent\neven after long service and speak as foreigners, but she had all the\nvocabulary, the idioms, the inflections, the guttural sounds, the\ninterjections, and sarcasms, as well as the quick characteristic\ngestures that belong only to the natives. \"She excelled even the\nnatives themselves in their own tongue,\" says Mr. Luke. \"She could play\nwith it and make the people smile; she could cut with it and make them\nwince; she could pour spates of indignation until they cried out,\n'_Ekem!_ Enough, Ma!' and she could croon with it and make the twins\nshe saved happy, and she could sing with it softly to comfort and\ncheer.\" One visitor who accompanied a missionary friend found her\nharanguing a crowd who had arrived to palaver. She stopped now and\nagain and spoke to the visitors in broad Scots. \"Well,\" said the\nmissionary afterwards, \"what do you think of her?\" \"I would not like\nher to catch me stealing her chickens!\" was the reply.\n\nOne of the qualities which astonished her guests was her utter\nfearlessness. There were no locks on her mission doors. She went\neverywhere, condemning chiefs, fining them, divorcing them; and came\nhome to her bairns to be a child with them, and to romp and sing to\nthem queer little chants of her own composition. One story of these\ndays her visitors carried away. A murder had been committed, and the\nslayer was pursued by the people, who intended to follow out their\ncustom and torture him. He was seized and chained. Straining to break\nloose, his eyes almost bursting from their sockets, he cried, \"Beware!\nYou may kill me, but my spirit will come back and spoil you. Ay, it\nwill not be you, the slaves, but you, the chiefs, that will suffer.\nBeware! I will come if you do not take me to Ma's house.\"\n\nHe was taken to \"Ma,\" who on hearing the evidence ordered him to be\nconveyed to Duke Town. Then she loosed him from his chains and sat down\nwith him alone in the house for the whole afternoon. The doors and\nwindows were open, and all he had to do was to strike her down and fly.\nBut she showed no fear. At night he was again chained and placed in the\nprayer-room or store-room underneath until the guard arrived. During\nthe night he managed to slip off his chains and was free to escape into\nthe bush. When she went into the room in the morning with food and\ncalled him, there was no sound or reply. It was dark in the place, but\nshe entered and moved around to find the prisoner. At the back of the\ndoor she came into contact with his swinging body. He had taken off his\nloin-cloth and hanged himself.\n\nHer visitors noticed, almost with wonders her devotion to her children\nand the little morsels of humanity that came pouring in upon her. Miss\nWelsh, LL.A., thus describes the household: \"Jean, the ever-cheerful\nand willing helper; Annie the drawer of water and hewer of wood, kind\nwilling worker; Mary the smart, handsome favourite; Alice the stolid\ndependable little body, and Maggie the fusionless, Dannie the imp, and\nAsoqu\u00f6 who looked with his big innocent eyes a wee angel, and who yet\nwas in constant trouble, chiefly for insisting on sharing the cat's\nmeals. Then there were the babies--a lovely wee twin-girl, whom their\nmother was nursing, a poor wee boy almost skin and bone lying cradled\nin a box. Behind the house in a rough shelter was another twin-mother\ncaring none too kindly for her surviving child.\" Another writes, \"I\nnever saw anything more beautiful than her devotion to these black\nchildren. She had a poor sick boy in her arms all the time, and nursed\nhim while walking up and down directing the girls. He died at 11.30 and\nshe slept with him in her arms all night. Next morning he was put in a\nsmall milk packing-case, and the children dug a grave and buried it and\nheld a service.\"\n\nAnd here we have the scene at evening prayers: \"We began with an Efik\nhymn of her own, which she repeated line by line, while the little ones\nchanted it with a weird intonation. They then sang the whole to the\ntune _French_. She tested their memory of the morning lesson, and gave\nthem a homely but powerful address, interrupting herself once to tell\nus how hydrophobia had broken out a few days before, and how she had\nheld one poor lad of ten in her arms until he died. She prayed, and the\nchildren bowed down their heads till they rested upon the ground. They\nnext chanted the 'Amen,' and half-chanted the Lord's Prayer, and\nfinished with what she called 'one of the new fanciful English hymns--\n'If I come to Jesus.' Then very simply and sweetly she commended us all\nto the Father's love and care.\"\n\nLong talks, often prolonged into the night, would follow. \"How Ma\ntalked,\" says Miss Welsh, \"and what a privilege it was to listen, what\nan experience, and what an education! How she made the past vivid as\nshe lived it over again--the days of her girlhood--her mischievous\npranks, her love of fun, her early days in Calabar, tales of the old\nworthies, tales of herself, and her own life, of her early pioneering,\nof loved ones at home, of kind letters whose messages of cheer she\nwould share, of comfort and help from God's word--from the passage of\nthe day's reading, of new lessons learned, of new light revealed. I can\nstill hear her, still listen with the old fascination, still enjoy her\nwild indignations, still marvel at her amazing personality, her\nextraordinary vitality and energy, still feel as I have ever felt her\nGod-given power to draw one nearer to the Lord she loved so well.\"\n\nWhen her guests departed she would walk with them a long way, her feet\nbare, her head uncovered. \"No,\" said a missionary, \"I would not like to\nsee other ladies do that, but I would not care to see her different. It\nis easy to give a false impression of her. She is not unwomanly. She is\neccentric if you like, but she is gentle of heart, with a beautiful\nsimplicity of nature, I join in the reverence which the natives show\nher.\"\n\n\n\n\n                      XXXVII. A NIGHT IN THE BUSH\n\nMiss Slessor began to feel that her days in Okoyong were drawing to a\nclose. Her part of the work there was done. The district was civilised,\nand all that the station required was organisation in detail and steady\ndevelopment. But she was not one to rest in any circumstances in which\nshe was placed. She abated nothing of her devotion in the interests of\nthe peoples and although her strength did not now allow her to take\nlong journeys on foot she never hesitated to answer the call upon her\nsympathy and courage. She had more than one adventure in these days,\nbut she had passed through so many hard experiences that she made light\nof them, regarding them as mere incidents in the day's work.\n\nOne afternoon, while she was in school, there appeared before her a\nyoung man of the superior class of slaves, who said his wife had given\nbirth to twins in the bush more than twelve miles away. All the people\nhad deserted her, a tornado was brewing--would she come and help?\n\n\"Ma\" thought of her brood of children, and one a sickly baby, but\nturning them over to the slave twin-mother she had bought, and leaving\nfood with her in her hut, she committed the whole twelve to Providence\nand set out with Jean.\n\nThe young man led them at a breathless pace. \"If only you could _dion_\nthe rain-cloud,\" he cried back. \"I am praying that God may keep it\nback,\" was all Mary could jerk out. The way seemed endless, and the\nshadows of night fell swiftly about them, but at last they arrived near\nthe spot and were joined by the mistress of the slave and an old naked\nwoman. They found the mother lying on the ground surrounded by charms.\n\"Ma\" pushed these away with her foot. The night was pitch dark, there\nwere occasional raindrops, and the woman was delirious. She ordered the\nhusband and his slave-man to make a stretcher. They regarded the idea\nwith horror, and pleaded that they could never carry her, their belief\ndoubtless being that they would die if they touched the unclean burden.\nAll begged \"Ma\" to leave the woman to her fate, but she turned upon\nthem with a voice of scorn, and such was her power that the men hastily\nset to and constructed a rough stretcher of branches and leaves, and\neven helped to place the woman upon it.\n\nBefore leaving, a sad little ceremony had to take place. One of the\ninfants was dead, and Jean took her machete and dug a little cavity in\nthe ground, and upon some soft leaves the child was laid and covered\nup. She then lifted the other twin, the men raised the stretcher, and\nthe party set off, a fire-stick, red at the point, and twirled to\nmaintain the glow, dimly showing them the way. The rain kept off, but\nit was so dark that \"Ma\" had to keep hold of the hem of Jean's dress in\norder not to lose her. The latter stumbled and fell, bringing down Mary\nalso. \"Where are you?\" each cried, and then a hand or a foot was held\nout and gripped. Sometimes the men dropped to their knees, but the\njolting brought no cry from the unconscious form they were carrying.\n\nBy and by they drew up in the utter solitude, and had to confess they\nwere lost. The men left to grope for signs of the path and the two\nwomen were alone. Jean grew depressed, not on her own account but on\n\"Ma's,\" for she knew that she was utterly exhausted, and could not hold\nout much longer. \"What if they desert us?\" she said. \"Well,\" replied\nMary, trying to appear as if fatigue and fear and wild beasts had no\nexistence, \"we shall just stay here until the morning.\" Jean's response\nwas something like a grunt. One of the men returned. \"Can't find a\nroad,\" he grumbled, and disappeared again.\n\nWhat was that? A firefly? No, a light. The other man had discovered a\nhut, and had procured a lighted palm tassel dipped in oil. Poor as it\nwas the light served to show the way until the path was reached.\n\nAfter sore toil they gained the Mission yard. The men laid the\nstretcher in an open shed and, overcome with their exertions, threw\nthemselves down anywhere and went asleep. But there was no rest yet for\nMary. Securing some old doors and sheets of iron she patched up a room\nfor the woman, In which she could pass the night.\n\nThe children were awakened and crawled out of Iye's hut into the yard\ncrying in sleepy misery. Jean and Annie carried them to the Mission\nHouse and put them to bed, and brought back some hot food for the\npatient, who was constantly moaning, \"Cold, cold; give me a fire.\"\n\nNot till she was fed and soothed did Mary give in. She could not summon\nsufficient strength to go upstairs, but lay down on the floor where she\nwas, with her clothes on, and all the dirt of the journey upon her, and\nslept till daybreak.\n\nThe baby died next day, and the mother hovered at the point of death.\nMary strove hard to save her, but the result was doubtful from the\nfirst. None in the yard would give any help save Jean; the woman was a\nsocial leper, and all sat at a safe distance, dumb or blaspheming.\nConscious at the end, the poor girl cried piteously to her husband not\nto reproach her. \"It is not my fault,\" she said, \"I did not mean to\ninsult you.\"\n\n\"Ma\" placed her hand on her hot brow calming her, and prayed that she\nmight find an entrance into a better world than the one which had\ntreated her so badly. When she passed away she thrust aside the leper\nwoman whom her people sent to assist her, and washed the body herself\nand dressed her so that for once a twin-mother was honoured in her\ndeath. She was placed in a coffin of corrugated iron, strengthened with\nbamboo splints, and beside her were put the spoons and pot and dish and\nother things which she had used.\n\nHer husband and his slave bore her away into the bush, and there at a\ndesolate spot, where no one was likely to live or plant or build, they\nleft her and stole from the place in terror.\n\n\n\n\n                 XXXVIII. WITH LOVING-KINDNESS CROWNED\n\nOn the fifteenth anniversary of that notable Sunday in 1888 when Mary\nsettled at Ekenge, the first communion service in Okoyong was held. It\ncrowned her service there, and put a seal upon the wonderful work she\nhad accomplished for civilisation and for Christ. Alone, she had done\nin Okoyong what it had taken a whole Mission to do in Calabar. The old\norder of heathenism had been broken up, the business of life was no\nlonger fighting and killing, women were free from outrage and the death\nmenace, slaves had begun to realise that they were human beings with\nhuman rights, industry and trade were established, peace reigned. Above\nall, people were openly living the Christian life, and many lads were\nactively engaged in Church work.\n\nNo congregation had been formally organised, but the readiness of the\nyoung people to join the Church was brought to the notice of the Rev.\nW. T. Weir, who was stationed at Creek Town, with the result that he\nwas appointed to go up and conduct the necessary services.\n\nOn the Saturday night in August corresponding to the one when she\narrived, a preparatory service was held in the hall beneath the Mission\nHouse, and in the presence of the people seven young Christians were\nreceived into the Church by baptism. More were coming forward, but the\nfears of their friends succeeded in preventing them. \"Wait and see,\"\nthey urged, \"until we know what the thing is.\" Some of the parents\nanxiously asked \"Ma\" whether the ceremony was in any way connected with\n_mbiam_.\n\nOn Sunday came a great throng, which filled the hall and overflowed\ninto the grounds, many sitting on native stools and chairs, and even on\ngin-boxes. Before the communion service she presented eleven of the\nchildren, including six she had rescued, for baptism.\n\nIt was a quiet and beautiful day, with the hush that comes with God's\nrest-day all the world over. As the company gathered to the first\nMemorial Table in Okoyong, she thought of all the years that lay\nbehind, and was greatly moved. In the stillness the old Scottish Psalm\ntunes rose thrilling with the gratitude and praise of a new-born\npeople. After the bread and wine had been partaken of, thanks were\nreturned by the singing of the 103rd Psalm to the tune _Stroudwater_.\nWhen the third and fourth verses were being sung--\n\n\n_Kprukpru muqua\u00f1kp\u00f5 ke ima | All thine iniquities who doth\n  Enye adahado;            |  Most graciously forgive:\n Anam ud\u00f6\u00f1\u00f5 okure,         | Who thy diseases all and pains\n  Ye ndutukh\u00f6 fo.          |  Doth heal, and thee relieve.\n\n\nEnye on\u00efm fi ke uwem,      | Who doth redeem thy life, that thou\n  Osio ka mkpa;            |  To death may'st not go down;\n Onyu\u00f1 odori fi eti        | Who thee with loving-kindness doth\n  Mf\u00f6n y'aqua ima_.        |  And tender mercies crown--\n\n\nShe seemed to be lost In a trance of thought, her face had a far-away\nlook, and tears stood in her eyes. She was thinking of the greatness of\nGod's love that could win even the oppressed people of dark Okoyong.\n\nShe could not let the assembly break up without saying a few words. Now\nthat they had the beginnings of a congregation they must, she said,\nbuild a church large enough for all who cared to come. And she pled\nwith those who had been received to remain true to the faith. \"Okoyong\nnow looks to you more than to me for proof of the power of the Gospel.\"\n\nIn the quiet of the evening in the Mission House, she seemed to dwell\nin the past. Long she spoke of what the conditions had been fifteen\nyears before, and of the changes that had come since. But her joy was\nin those who had been brought to confess Christ, and she was glad to\nthink that, after all, the work had not been a failure. And all the\nglory she gave to her Father who had so marvellously helped her.\n\nFor a moment also her fancy turned to the future. She would be no\nlonger there, but she knew the work would go on from strength to\nstrength, and her eyes shone as she saw in vision the gradual\ningathering of the people, and her beloved Okoyong at last fair and\nredeemed.\n\n\n\n\n                              FOURTH PHASE\n\n                          1902-1910. Age 54-62.\n\n                    THE ROMANCE OF THE ENYONG CREEK#\n\n   _\"I feel drawn on and on by the magnetism of this land of dense\n                darkness and mysterious weird forest.\"_\n\n\n                     I. THE REIGN OF THE LONG JUJU\n\nAgain had come the fulness of the time, and again Mary Slessor, at an\nage when most women begin to think of taking their ease, went forward\nto a new and great work for Christ and civilisation. Kind eyes and\nloving hands beckoned to her from Scotland to come and rest, but she\ngazed into the interior, towards vast regions as yet unentered, and saw\nthere the gleam of the Divine light leading her on, and she turned with\na happy sigh to follow it.\n\nIn this case there was no sharp division between the old and new\nspheres of service. For ten years she had been brooding over the\nconditions in the territory on the west side of the Cross River, so\nnear at hand, so constantly skirted by missionaries, traders, and\nofficials as they sailed up-river, and yet so unknown, and so full of\nthe worst abominations of heathenism.\n\nJust above Calabar the Cross River bends back upon itself, and here at\nthe point of the elbow the Enyong Creek runs inland into the heart of\nthe territory towards the Niger. At its mouth on high ground stands the\ntownship of Itu, of sinister reputation in the history of the West\nCoast. For there on the broad beach at the foot of the cliff was held &\nmarket which for centuries supplied Calabar and the New World with\nslaves. Down through the forest paths, down the quiet waters of the\nCreek, countless victims of man's cupidity had poured, had been huddled\ntogether there, had been inspected, appraised, and sold, and then had\nbeen scattered to compounds throughout the country or shipped across\nthe sea. And there still a market, was held, and along the upper\nborders of the Creek human sacrifice and cannibalism were practised.\nOnly recently a chief had died, and sixty slave people had been killed\nand eaten. One day twenty-five were set in a row with their hands tied\nbehind them, and a man came and with a knife chopped off their heads.\n\nIt is a strange irony that this old slave creek, the scene of so much\nmisery and anguish, is one of the prettiest waterways in West Africa.\nIt is narrow and still and winding, and great tropical trees covered\nwith the delicate tracery of creepers line the banks, their branches\nsometimes interlacing above, while the undergrowth is rich in foliage\nand blossom. Lovely orchids and ferns grow in the hollows of the boughs\nand old trunks that have fallen; but the glory of the Creek is its\nwater-lilies, which cover the surface everywhere, so that a boat has\noften to cut its way through their mass. On either hand, side-creeks\ncan be seen twisting among the trees and running deeper into the heart\nof the forest. The silence of the primeval solitude is unbroken save\nwhen a canoe passes, and then a startled alligator will slip into the\nwater, monkeys will scurry chattering from branch to branch, parrots\nwill fly screaming away, blue kingfishers and wild ducks will disappear\nfrom their perch, and yellow palm birds will gleam for a moment as they\nflit through the sunlight. The Creek is beautiful at all times, but in\nthe early morning when the air is cool and the light is misty and the\nvistas are veiled in dimness, the scene is one of fairy-like\nenchantment.\n\nAbove the Creek all the country between the Cross River and the Niger\nup to near Lokoja in Northern Nigeria, was occupied by the Ibo tribe,\nnumbering about four millions, of a fairly high racial type, who were\ndominated by the Aros clan dwelling in some twenty or thirty towns\nsituated close together in the district of Arochuku (\"God of the\nAros\"). A remarkable and mysterious people, the Aros were light-\ncoloured, intelligent, subtle, and cunning. More intellectual and\ncommercial than warlike, they developed two lines of activity--trade\nand religion--and made each serve the other. Their chief commodity was\nslaves. Each town controlled certain slave routes, and each had a\ndefinite sphere of influence which extended over a wide tract of\nterritory. When slaves were scarce they engaged mercenaries to raid\nvillages and capture them. But they had usually a supply from the Long\nJuju situated in a secret, well-guarded gorge. The fame of this fetish\nwas like that of the Delphic oracle of old; it spread over the country,\nand people came far distances to make sacrifices at its shrine, and\nconsult the priests on all possible subjects. These priests were men\nchosen by the various towns, who were raised to a semi-sacred status in\nthe eyes of the people. Enormous fees and fines were imposed, but the\nmajority who entered the spot never left it alive; they were either\nsacrificed and eaten, or sold into slavery. The shrine was built in the\nmiddle of a stream, which was alive with ugly fish with glaring eyes\nthat were regarded as sacred. When the friends of the man who had\nentered saw the water running red, they believed that the Juju had\ndevoured him. In reality some red material had been cast in, and the\nman would be sent as a slave to a remote part of the country.\n\nThe priests despatched their emissaries far and wide; they settled in\ntownships, swore blood brotherhood with the chiefs, and took part in\nlocal affairs. They planted farms, and traded and acquired enormous\npower. When disputes arose they got the matter sent for adjustment to\nthe town in Aro within whose sphere of influence they lived, or to the\nLong Juju. In this way they acted as agents of the slave system. Other\nmen took round the slaves on definite routes. Their usual plan was to\nleave one on approval, obtaining on their own part so much on each, or\na slave of lower value. When the trader returned the bargain would be\ncompleted. The usual price of a new slave was 200 or 300 rods and a bad\nslave. So widespread was the net east by the Aros, and so powerful\ntheir influence, that if a chief living a full week's journey to the\nnorth were asked, \"What road is that?\" he would say, \"The road to Aro.\"\nAll roads in the country led to Aro.\n\nA few years before this a party of eight hundred natives had proceeded\nfrom the territories about the Niger to consult the Long Juju on\nvarious matters. They were led by a circuitous route to Arochuku, and\nhoused in a village. Batches of from ten to twenty were regularly taken\naway, ostensibly to the Juju, but were either sacrificed or sold into\nservitude, only a miserable remnant of 130 succeeding in reaching the\nhands of Government officials.\n\nOf a totally different type were the people living to the south of the\nCreek, called the Ibibios. They were one of the poorest races in\nAfrica, both morally and physically, a result largely due to centuries\nof fear and oppression. Ibibio was the chief raiding-ground of the\nhead-hunters, and the people lived in small isolated huts and villages\ndeep in the forest, in order to lessen the risk of capture. In\ndemeanour they were cowed and sullen, gliding past one furtively and\nswiftly, as if afraid; in language and life they were untruthful and\nfilthy. The women, who wore no clothing save a small piece of native\ncloth made of palm fibre, were mere beasts of burden. All the young\npeople went naked. Most unpromising material they seemed. Yet they\nnever ceased to draw out the sympathy and hope of the White Mother of\nOkoyong; there was no people, she believed, who could not be recreated.\n\nShe knew a great deal about the Aros and their slave system, more,\nprobably, than any other white person in the country. Indeed few had\nany knowledge of them. \"What is sad about the Aro Expedition,\" wrote\nMr. Luke, one of the Cross River pioneers, \"is that nearly all the town\nnames in connection with it are unknown to those of us who thought we\nhad a passable knowledge of Old Calabar. I never heard of the Aros, of\nBende, or of Arochuku. It is somewhat humiliating that after over fifty\nyears' work as a mission, the district on the right bank should be so\nlittle known to us.\" Mary had first-hand acquaintance with the people.\nRefugees came to her from both Ibo and Ibibio with stories of cruelty\nand wrong and oppression; chiefs from both regions sought her out for\nadvice and guidance; slave-dealers from Arochuku and Bende, with their\nhuman wares, called at Ekenge and Akpap, and with many of these she was\nfriendly, and learned from them the secrets of their trade. She told\nthem frankly that she was coming some day to their country, and they\ngave her a cordial invitation, but hinted that it might not be quite\nsafe. It was not the danger that prevented her. She would have gone\nbefore, but the difficulty was providing for Okoyong when she was\nabsent. She would not leave her people unless they were cared for by\ncompetent hands. She asked for two ladies to be sent in order that she\nmight be free to carry out her idea of visiting the Aro country, but\nnone could be spared, and so she had, perforce, to wait. It was not\neasy, but she loyally submitted. \"The test of a real good missionary,\"\nshe wrote, \"is this waiting, silent, seemingly useless time. So many\nwho can distinguish themselves at home, missing the excitement and the\nresults, get discontented, morose, cynical, and depreciate everything.\nEverything, however seemingly secular and small, is God's work for the\nmoment, and worthy of our very best endeavour. To such, a mission\nhouse, even in its humdrum days, is a magnificent opportunity of\nservice. In a home like mine a woman can find infinite happiness and\nsatisfaction. It is an exhilaration of constant joy--I cannot fancy\nanything to surpass it on earth.\"\n\nThen came the military expedition to break up the slave system and the\nfalse gods of Aro. The troops were moved into Arochuku by way of the\nCreek, and the forces of civilisation encountered the warriors of\nbarbarism in the swamps and bush that edge the waterway. When the\ntroops entered the towns they found juju-houses everywhere, and in\nalmost every home were rude images smeared with the blood of sacrifice.\nThe dreaded Long Juju was discovered in a gloomy defile about a mile\nfrom Arochuku. The path to it wound a tortuous way through dense bush,\nwith others constantly leading off on both sides, evidently intended to\npuzzle the uninitiated. A watch-tower was passed where sentinels had\nbeen posted. At the bottom of the valley, between high rocky banks\nclothed with ferns and creepers, ran a stream which widened out into a\npool covered with water-lilies. In the dim light was seen a small\nisland, and upon it a rude shelter surrounded by a fence of gun-\nbarrels. Lying about were gin-bottles, cooking-pots, and human skulls,\nthe witness of past orgies. At the entrance was a white goat starving\nto death.\n\nMost of the chiefs had never seen-a white man, and when Sir Ralph Moor\nwent up to hold a palaver, their interest was intense. They sat on the\nground in a semicircle in the shade of a giant cotton tree, suspicious\nand hostile, listening to the terms of the Government, which included\ndisarmament, the suppression of the juju-worship, and the prohibition\nof the buying, pawning, and selling of slaves. After much palaver these\nwere agreed to. Over two thousand five hundred war-guns were\nsurrendered, but sacrifices continued--and still to some extent go on\nin secret in the depths of the forest. Much work also had still to be\ndone before Government rule was generally accepted. Throughout the\nwhole time occupied by the expedition, but more particularly in the\nlater stages, the important chiefs kept continually in touch with \"Ma\"\nSlessor, and one official states that it was to her influence more than\nall the force and power of the Government emissaries that the final\nsettlement of the country was due....\n\nIt is interesting to speculate what might have been the course of\nevents had she been able to carry out her plan before the punitive\nexpedition was called for. Mr. Wilkie goes so far as to say that \"had\nshe been settled in the Aro country it is doubtful whether an armed\nexpedition would have been necessary, and it is at least possible that\nthe suppression of the slave-trade would have been achieved by the\npeaceable means of the Gospel.\" Primitive peoples often bend more\nquickly before Christ than break before might of arms.\n\n\n\n\n                          II. PLANTING A BASE\n\nA large tract of new territory was now open to outside influences. Who\nwas to be the first to settle in it--official, trader, or missionary?\nMary studied the situation again in the light of the new conditions,\nobtaining information first-hand from officials and natives. There were\ntwo stations on the west of the Cross River--Ikorofiong, which,\nhowever, was really an Efik trading town, and higher up, Unwana, which\nwas a back-water and unfit for a base for inland work. Tentative\nefforts had been made from time to time to secure a footing elsewhere,\nbut had come to nothing, and the policy of the Mission had been to\ncontinue up-river as being the line of least resistance. Her conviction\nwas that extension, for the present at least, should take place not up\nthe river, where the stations were cut off from the base during the dry\nseason, but laterally across the country between the Cross River and\nthe Niger. There were, she saw, three strategetic factors which\ndominated the situation--the Enyong Creek giving admission to the new\nterritory, Itu at its mouth, and Arochuku, the religious and political\ncentre of the Ibos. The central position of Itu impressed her; it\ncommanded the three contiguous regions and peoples--the Ibo, Ibibio,\nand Efik, and her plan was to seize and hold it as a base, then one of\nthe towns of Arochuku as the threshold of Iboland, and, if possible,\nBende. Her views did not commend themselves to all her colleagues in\nCalabar, but how wise, how far-seeing, how statesmanlike was her policy\nthe later history of the Mission proves.\n\nShe felt she could do nothing until help was obtained for Akpap.\nFortunately there was one lady missionary in Calabar who had the\ncourage to prefer Okoyong to quieter stations-Miss Wright of the Girls'\nInstitute, who asked the local Committee to send her there as assistant\nto Miss Slessor; and although the Committee approved, the matter was\nreferred to the Women's Committee at home. As there seemed no prospect\nof anything being done, she began to move quietly along her own lines.\nHer school lads were now old enough and educated enough to be used as\nadvance agents, and her hope lay in these. In January 1903 she left\nAkpap with two boys, Esien and Effiom, and one of her girls, Mana, and\ncanoed to Itu, and planted them there to teach school and hold\nservices. Esien took the chief part in the latter, whilst Effiom led\nthe singing. Mana's work was the teaching of the girls. A few weeks\nlater she found that the results had exceeded all her dreams. The chief\nsaid he was too old to change his ways, but the younger ones could\nlearn the new ideas--anyway God had made him, and so was bound to look\nafter him whatever sins he committed. But the children were eager to\nlearn, and made apt scholars, and the people crowded to the services\nuntil there was no more room for them. She went up again and selected a\nsite on the top of the hill with a magnificent view and built a school,\nspeeding the work with her own hands, and set the willing people to\nconstruct a church, with two rooms for herself at the end. When one of\nher fellow-missionaries, Dr. Rattray, heard of this he wrote: \"Bravo!\nUganda was evangelised by this means, and the teachers there could only\nread the gospels and could not write or count; the Mission understood\nits business to be to spread the Gospel, and all who could read taught\nothers and spread the news. Perhaps we educate the people too much, and\nmake them think that education is religion.\"\n\nWhen in February she heard that the Roman Catholics were intending to\nsettle at Bende her heart was heavy. \"The thought that all that is\nholiest in the Church, should have been shed to create an opening for\nthat corrupt body makes me ill. And not even a station opened or the\nhope of one! Oh, if I were able to go or send even a few of my bairns\njust to take hold. The country is far from being at rest, but if the\nRoman Catholics can go so can I.... There is a great future for\nNigeria; if only I were young again and had money!\"\n\nShe wrote to Dr. Adam, a Government friend in Bende, a soldier of the\nChurch as well as a servant of the King, and he supplied her with all\nthe information she needed. Bende, he said, was not the place it was\nsupposed to be; the population numbered from two to four thousand; it\nwas not likely to become a trading centre; whilst the overland\ntransport was a disadvantage. The journey was by launch to Itu, by\nsteel canoe up the Enyong Creek, thence by foot or hammock to Arochuku\nand Bende. He stated that Bishop Johnston of the Church Missionary\nSociety was already in Bende prospecting.\n\nWhen she received his letter she said to herself, \"Shall I go?\" She did\nnot wish to compromise the mission in any way, and proposed to go about\nthe matter quietly, at her own expense. She would travel if necessary\nin a hammock, as she was not so sure of herself as of old, and would\nfind rest at wayside huts, and she would take Iye to act as interpreter\nwhere the women did not know Efik. \"I would do what I like, and would\ncome back to my work rested and refreshed. But--I want God to send me.\"\n\nWhat was influencing her also was the conviction that the end had come\nfor her at Akpap. Again she had the consciousness that it was time for\nthe station to be taken over by an ordained missionary, who would build\nup a congregation. \"I shall not say that I shall leave my home without\na pang, but I know that I can do work which new folk cannot do, and my\ndays of service are closing in, and I cannot build up a church in the\nway a minister can.\" She believed that in the special conditions of\nWest Africa women were better than men for beginning work in the\ninterior. And she still retained her faith in the home-trained\ndomesticated type--girls who had brothers and sisters and had learned\nto give and take and find duty in doing common things, rather than\nthose turned out by the training schools, who were, she thought, apt to\nbe too artificial and full of theories. Her ideal of a man missionary\nwas Dr. Rattray, who was a good carpenter and shoemaker and general\nhandy-man,--\"far better accomplishments than a college education for\nthe African field.\" She did not, of course, depreciate culture, so long\nas practical qualities of heart and hand went with it.\n\nThe proposal regarding Miss Wright going to Akpap having been agreed\nto, she began to look forward to her advent as an event that would\ndetermine the future. Seldom has one been so eagerly watched for; for\nmonths it was nothing but \"When Miss Wright comes,\" \"Wait till Miss\nWright comes,\" so on. For days before she appeared the household were\nin excited mood, every morning fresh flowers were placed in her\nbedroom, the boys and girls kept themselves dressed and ready to\nreceive her. When she did arrive it made all the difference that was\nhoped. She was a capable, unselfish, plucky girl; she knew the\nlanguage, and was experienced in the ways of the people. Very quietly\nshe slipped into the method of the house, taking the school and\ndispensary off \"Ma's\" hands, and looking after the babies with the same\npitying sympathy. The girls became quite at home with her, in the long\nnights she would sing to them, recalling the times in the bush when Mr.\nOvens used to entertain them. \"She is a right sisterly helpmate,\" wrote\nMary, \"and a real help and comfort in every way. Things go as smoothly\nas on a summer's day, and I don't know how I got on alone. It seems too\ngood to be true.\"\n\n\n\n\n                          III. On To Arochuku\n\nOn a morning of June 1908 she left Akpap for Itu, tramping the forest\npath to Ikunetu in order to pick up the Government launch on its weekly\njourney to the garrisons up-river. The Government, as usual, gave her\nevery facility for carrying on her new work, granted her free passages,\ntook charge of her packages and letters, placed their Rest Houses at\nher disposal, and told her to ask for whatever she wanted. She did not\ncare to trouble them unduly, but was very grateful for their\nconsideration. On arriving at Ikunetu she went into the teacher's house\nto rest, charging the boys to call her as soon as they sighted the\nlaunch. They did not notice it until it was too late for her to signal,\nand it passed onwards and out of sight. But she was not put out; her\nfaith was always strong in the guiding hand of God; and she turned and\ntramped back the same long road. When she reached the Mission House\ntired and weary, she assured Miss Wright that all was well--God had not\nmeant her to travel that day, and she must have been kept back for some\npurpose.\n\nNext week she set out again, and when she joined the launch at Ikunetu,\nColonel Montanaro, the Commander of the Forces, was on board on his way\nup to Arochuku. In the course of their conversation he gave her a\npressing invitation to go there, and to accept his escort. She was\nalmost startled by what seemed so direct a leading. But she was not\nprepared for a longer journey; she had no change of clothing or supply\nof food. She thought and prayed over the matter all the way. \"Here is\nthe challenge to enter that region of unbroken gloom and despair,\" she\nmused. \"If it is not entered now, the Roman Catholics will come in, and\nthe key position to the whole territory will be taken out of our hands,\nand only the coast tribes be left to the Mission. If I go now we shall\nbe the first in the field, and it will not be discourteous to the Roman\nCatholics--as it would be if we came in afterwards.\" Before the end of\nthe journey she consented to go.\n\nWhen she arrived at Arochuku she found herself in the old slave centre\nof the Aros, a densely populated district, some 80,000 people living\nwithin a radius of a few square miles. It was a strange experience to\nwalk over these roads that had been trodden for centuries by countless\nfeet on their way to the pens of the coast and the horrors of the\n\"middle passage,\" and latterly to the Efik slave-market, and to gaze on\nthe spot where the secret iniquities of the Long Juju had taken place;\nstranger still to receive a welcome from the men who had been\nresponsible for these evils. The chiefs and traders, many of whom she\nknew, were delighted with her courage and touched by her self-\nsacrifice, and promised to do all they could to assist her work. Making\narrangements to come up later and start a school, she left, profoundly\nthankful for the privilege she had been granted, and praying that the\nChurch at home would have a vision of the grand opportunity opening up\nbefore it.\n\nThe officials of the Church, of course, knew of the opportunity, but\nthe members at large were not interested. Dr. Robson, as Convener of\nthe Calabar Sub-Committee, pointed out how the situation was\npractically a crisis--no ground had been broken west of the Cross\nRiver, no teachers had been sent to the east. For a quarter of a\ncentury the supply of men had not sufficed for the existing needs of\nthe Mission, and extension had been impossible. The givings of the\nChurch for foreign missions had been far below the urgent requirements.\nEither, he said, the staff and income must be largely increased, or\nthey would have to step aside and invite others to divide the field\nwith them. No adequate response was made to this and similar appeals,\nand the lonely pioneer was forced onwards upon her solitary path.\n\nA short time afterwards she went back to Arochuku, taking two lads, and\na school was opened in the palaver shed of Amasu, one of the towns\nnearest the Creek, A hundred children crowded into the building along\nwith women and men, and not a few of the old slavers, and the scholars\nwere soon well on in the first book. In one village which she visited\nshe found a young trader who had brought news of the Christ religion\nfrom the Niger, and was anxious to introduce a church and teacher. When\nshe left the district again, the people came to the landing-beach and\ncried after her, \"Don't be long in coming back, Ma! If you don't care\nfor us, who will care for us?\"\n\nAs her canoe was paddled down the creek, she lay back enjoying the\nbeauty of the scene. The water was as smooth as a mirror, and like a\nmirror reflected the delicate tracery of the overhanging foliage;\nbright birds sailed hither and thither, gorgeous butterflies flitted\nabout, and brilliant blossoms coloured the banks. She had passed in\nsuccession two snakes attempting to cross the stream, and was watching\nthe efforts of a third when a small canoe shot out from behind a clump\nof bushes and bumped into her craft. She apologised to the man in it,\nbut standing cap in hand he said, \"I meant it, Ma; I have been waiting\nfor you; my master at Akani Obio sent me to waylay you and bring you to\nhis house.\" Taking a letter from his cap he handed it to her.\n\nThe canoe was turned and entered a still creek, a picture of delicate\nloveliness, with multitudes of lilies and other aquatic plants, which\nmade her feel as if she were moving through an exquisite dream. A\nshingly beach, evidently a busy trading-place, was reached, and there\nstood a young man and young woman, handsome and well-dressed, who\nassisted her to land. They led her into a good house and into a pretty\nroom with concrete floor, a European bedstead, clean and dainty, with\nmosquito curtains and all the appointments that indicated people of\ntaste. The man was Onoyom Iya Nya, a born statesman, the only one in\nthe district who had not been disarmed by the Government, and the one\nwho had been chosen President of the Native Court, and was shaping well\nas a wise and enlightened ruler.\n\nIt was a moving story that Mary heard from his lips, while his wife\nstood by and listened. It went back to 1875 when he was a boy. One day\na white man appeared in the Creek, and all the people decamped and hid.\nHe, alone, stayed on the beach, and in response to a request from the\nwhite man, offered to lead him to the chief's house. During the palaver\nthat ensued he lingered by, an absorbed listener. When the white man\nleft he was tried by the heads of the town and severely punished for\nhaving acted as guide. The stranger was the Rev. Dr. Robb, one of the\nablest missionaries in the Mission, then stationed at Ikorofiong.\n\nThe boy never forgot the incident. But he grew up a heathen, and went\nto the cannibal feasts at Arochuku. When his father died, ten little\ngirls were slaughtered, and five of the bodies were placed beneath the\ncorpse, and five above, that they might occupy the position of wives in\nthe spirit world. He married, but misfortune seemed to dog him. His\nhouse was burned down, and then his child died. Seeking for the man who\nhad wrought these things by witchcraft, in order to murder him, he met\na native who had once been a Mission teacher in Calabar, but who had\nfallen into evil ways and was now homeless and a drunkard.\n\n\"How do you know,\" the latter said, \"that it is not the God of the\nwhite man that is angry with you? He is all-powerful.\"\n\n\"Where can I find this God!\" the chief queried.\n\n\"I am not worthy to say, but go to the white Ma at Itu, and she will\ntell you.\"\n\n\"I will go,\" was the reply.\n\nHe took a canoe and watched for Mary on the Creek, but missed her. In\nhis impatience he engaged the old teacher, who had still his Bible, to\ncome and read _Iko Abasi_ to him. Again he sent for \"Ma,\" but she had\ngone on to Arochuku. Then he kept a man on the look-out in the Creek,\nand it was he who had intercepted her.\n\n\"And now,\" he said, \"will you show me what to do?\"\n\nAs he told the story several big, fattened ladies had come in, and a\nnumber of children and dependants. She prayed with them, sent for the\nteacher's Bible, and talked with them long and earnestly. The chief's\nwife made her a cup of tea, and she left, promising to come later and\nsee what she could do to develop a station.\n\nThe detour had made her late, and the canoe ran into a sudden storm of\nwind and rain, but her heart was jubilant, and kept singing and praying\nall the way to Itu. For God was good, and He was leading her, and that\nwas perfect happiness.\n\n\n\n\n                       IV. A SLAVE-GIRL'S TRIUMPH\n\nThe problem was how to follow up so promising a beginning. It occupied\nher thoughts day and night, but she came to the conclusion that she\ncould not conscientiously leave Miss Wright alone at Akpap. The station\nwas too isolated for her, and if she became ill it might be weeks\nbefore any one knew. An alternative was to remain herself at Akpap, and\nallow Miss Wright to go to Itu, where she would be in touch with the\nMission, and could canoe down to Calabar if anything went wrong. The\nplan she liked best was to hand the station over to a minister, so that\nboth she and Miss Wright could establish themselves at Itu and work the\nCreek between them. As the months went by and she paid flying visits to\nthe infant causes at Itu and Amasu, she became more and more convinced\nof the magnificent opportunity lying to the Church's hand in these\nregions. At Itu the congregation had grown to one of over three hundred\nintelligent and well-dressed people meeting in a church built by\nthemselves. In August at Amasu she found a school of sixty-eight on a\nwet day, and of these thirty-eight could read the first book. That they\nhad been brought under discipline was shown by the fact that as she\nentered all rose silently and simultaneously, as if they had been years\ninstead of weeks at school.\n\nThe same month witnessed an event which gave her unbounded happiness.\nJean, and Mana the slave-girl, Iye the twin-mother of Susie, Akom the\nfirst-fruit of Ekenge, and Esien the teacher at Itu, were baptized, and\nsat down at the communion-table. Many others were there, and joined in\nspirit in the celebration, but owing to difficult native complications\ncould not take the step, and Mary never cared to force matters. Esien's\nmother had been very unwilling for her son to come under Christian\ninfluence, and now she was not only present, but actually sat beside\ntwo twin-mothers. Akom's face was transfigured. Jean's adopted child,\nDan, was also baptized on the occasion, and it was a great and solemn\njoy to Mary to see her oldest bairn give him to God, and promise to\nbring him up in His fear.\n\nIn October she was at Itu watching the building of the house for\nherself and teacher, and nothing delighted her more than the way in\nwhich the women worked along with the men. \"I wish Crockett had been\nhere to gather the shafts and sparks of wit and satire that flew with\nas much zest as ever obtained in a Galloway byre or market fairin'. It\nis such a treat to me, for no intercourse is permitted between the\nsexes in Okoyong, except that of the family, and then it is strained\nand unnatural, but here they were daffin' and lauchin' as in Scotland.\nHow wholesome are God's own laws of freedom and simplicity.\" The house\nwas to, have six rooms--three for herself, one for Miss Wright or other\nlady missionary, one for Mana, and one for Esien and Effiom. \"I'm\nafraid that is too much for you,\" she said, thinking of the mats which\nwere not easy to obtain. \"It's not too much, Ma; nothing can be too\nmuch. We will do it.\" One woman came and insisted on washing her feet\nin hot water. She had to give in, and as she sat down the woman said,\n\"Ma, I've been so frightened you would take our teacher away because we\nare so unworthy. I think I could not live again in darkness. I pray all\nthe time. I lay my basket down and just pray on the road.\"\n\nThis woman sometimes prayed in the meetings, and electrified the\naudience, and she had begun to have devotions in her own home, though\nher husband laughed at her. There were many others of the same type,\nand it was a black slave-girl who had been the one behind it all. Mana\ntaught and nursed and trained them, quietly and modestly, as a mother\nmight. It was an inspiration to Mary to see her; as she looked upon\nsuch results she cried, \"Oh! if only the Church knew. If only it would\nback us up.\" To her friends she wrote, \"Prayer can do anything; let us\ntry its power.\"\n\nReturning to Akpap with two of the girls and some small children, she\nwas caught in a tornado and made her way over the six miles of bush-\nroad through pelting rain. The darkness was lit up by almost continuous\nlightning, but they lost their way, and she had at last to commandeer\nan old native to lead them. Such experiences were now part of her\nordinary life again. On her trips up and down the Creek she was\nconstantly drifting into strange situations, and being reduced to\nsleeping on mud floors, or on straw in the open, drinking tea made in\nempty milk tins, and subsisting for days on yam and oranges. And always\nshe was treated by the natives with as much gallantry and courtesy as\nif she were a queen, and always she was singing in her heart psalms of\nthanksgiving and gratitude.\n\nBut she was not able as formerly to resist the effects of such\nexposure, and was often weary, and her weariness brought nervousness\nand lack of sleep. At times she was afraid of the unknown future\nopening out before her, and appalled when she thought of all the\ndetails of labour, supplies, and management that were coming upon her\nshoulders. In the dark she would rise and cry, \"Calm me, O God, and\nkeep me calm.\" Then she would go and look at the sleeping children and\ncomfort herself with the sight. \"Surely,\" she would say, \"I have more\nreason to trust God than childhood has after all the way He has led\nme.\"\n\n\n\n\n                           V. A BUSH FURLOUGH\n\nShe at last determined to give up her furlough in Scotland, now drawing\nnear, and spend the time instead in prospecting in the new country. All\nher hopes and aims were expressed in a definite and formal way in the\nfollowing document, which she sent to be read at the November meeting\nof the Committee--now the Mission Council--at Calabar:\n\nI think it is an open secret that for many years the workers here have\nfelt that our methods and modes were very far from adequate to overtake\nthe needs of our immense field, and, as the opportunities multiply and\nthe needs grow more clamant, the question grows in importance and\ngravity. The fact that only by stated consecutive work can a church be\nevolved and built up, and a pagan nation be moulded into a Christian\npeople, cannot be gainsaid, and yet there is an essential need for\nsomething between, something more mobile and flexible than ordinary\ncongregational work and methods. The scattered broken units into which\nour African populations are divided, their various _jujus_ and _mbiams_\nand superstitions which segregate even the houses of any common\nvillage, make it necessary for us to do more than merely pay an\noccasional visit, even if that visit results in a church or a school\nbeing built.\n\nMany plans suggest themselves. Church members organised into bands of\ntwo or three or four to itinerate for a week over local neighbourhoods;\nnative teachers spending a given number of days in each month in the\noutlying parts of their districts; trading members of the church\nundertaking service in any humble capacity on up-river trading\nstations--in these and many other ways the gaps might be bridged and a\nchain of personal interest and living sympathy link on the raw heathen\nto the church centres, and the first rays of gospel light be conveyed\nand communication be opened without the material expense which the\nopening of new stations involves. For instance, I have spent a Sabbath\nat Umon, and ever so many Efik traders, men and women, joined in the\ncongregational worship, reading from Bibles and hymn-books which had\nbeen locked in their boxes; but either timidity or some other cause\nkept them silent when there was no one to lead. Could not a beginning\nbe made for those, either by initiating such a service or organising\nthose who were trading at any place so that evening worship or some\nsuch simple way of bringing gospel truth before the minds of the\nheathen could go on continuously? The same holds good of Itu and other\nplaces.\n\nFor the last decade the nearer reaches of the river on which we ply\nhave occupied a great deal of my thoughts, but from various causes no\nsort of supervision at all adequate suggested itself. So there has been\nlittle definite work accomplished. A few readers at Odot, desultory\nteaching at Eki and the back of Itu, and Umon, covers it all, I fear.\n\nWith Miss Wright's coming, opportunities, not of our personal seeking,\nhave forced themselves on us, and though we have done the best we could\nwith the materials at hand, all seems so little and incomplete that the\nfollowing proposal or petition or request or whatever you may term it,\nhas been prepared, and that from no mere impulse of the moment but\nafter careful, prayerful consideration. I may say here that Miss Wright\nis fully in sympathy with it, and it is from both of us.\n\nBy the 2nd January 1904 I shall have been out five years, and so my\nfurlough would then be due, but as I have not the slightest intention\nof going to Britain--I am thankful to say I do not feel any necessity\nfor so doing--I propose to ask leave from the station for six months,\nduring which time I should, in a very easy way, try to keep up an\ninformal system of itinerating between Okoyong and Amasu. Already I\nhave seen a church and a dwelling-house built at Itu, and a school and\na couple of rooms at Amasu. I have visited several towns of Enyong in\nthe Creek, and have found good enough accommodation, as there are semi-\nEuropean houses available and open for a lodging. I shall find my own\ncanoe and crew, and shall stay at any given place any length of time\nwhich the circumstances suggests so as not to tax my own strength, and\nmembers of my own family shall help in the elementary teaching in the\nschools. From our home here we should thus superintend the small school\nat Idot, and start in a small way work at Eki, and reside mostly at Itu\nas the base, working the Creek where the Enyon towns are on the way to\nthe farther base at Amasu, reside there or itinerate from there among\nthe Aro people in an easy way, and back again by Creek and Itu home.\n\nWhat I have to ask of you is that in order to do this a lady be sent\nout to be with Miss Wright. The latter is perfectly capable of\nattending to the station; the school and dispensary work are already in\nher hands, and with some one to help her I have not the slightest\nhesitation in leaving her in charge. Both ladies could co-operate in\nthe travelling as choice or circumstances pointed, and as Miss Wright\nhas had a large share in the formation and equipment of the Itu and Aro\nstations it would be very natural that she should take such a part in\ndeveloping them as might suggest itself to her. The three of us, I have\nno doubt, could dovetail the details of the work so that no part should\nsuffer, nor should any special strain be put on our health. We should\nlike this to take shape by the end of the year, as the people will be\nmore get-at-able in their villages in such a visitation kind of way\nthan in the ordinary church methods during the dry season. All work in\ntowns is slack then, and village and visitation work have their proper\nvalue.\n\nIn proposing this I know I am going in the very face of what seems to\nbe the only possible way of dividing our stations. My own desire is to\nhave a missionary with his wife and a native teacher take over Okoyong,\ncongregate the educated, and at least nominal Christian part of our\ncommunity, and build up a church in the ordinary way. He has more than\nhe can undertake to work upon in Okoyong alone, and he has endless\nscope for extension up between the rivers toward Ugep and Edi-Iba.\n\nIt may be out of my province to speak of anything outside my own\nstation, but in as far as I know I am voicing the opinion of the\nmissionaries who are now working up Higher. I may say that if we are to\ncompass the peoples that lie at our hands, such as Itu, Enyong, Umon,\nand those who may be reached all the year round, we ought to have Itu\nmanned as a proper European station. All and each of these peoples can\nbe reached and worked from Itu. Then as a natural and strategic point\nin the business conduct of our Mission, Itu is incomparable. It was not\nwithout reason that it was the slave mart, and that it became the\nGovernment base for all work both for north and flank. The gateway to\nthe Aros and the Ibibios, holding the Enyong, and being just a day's\njourney from what must ever be our base, namely the seaport of the\nocean steamers, having waterway all the year round and a good beach\nfront, it is the natural point, I think, at which our up and down river\nwork should converge.\n\nBut I am willing to change, and Miss Wright is willing to change, any\nplan of ours in order to let any larger undertaking make way if it\nshould be proposed.\n\nThis communication was considered, and various proposals made, but the\nfinding of the Council was that they were unable to accept the whole\nresponsibility of the scheme, and that the matter should be forwarded\nto the Women's Committee in Scotland, and Miss Slessor asked to wait\ntheir decision. The question of further development was, however,\ndiscussed, and the unanimous opinion was that Itu should be adopted as\na medical station in view of extension into the Aro country.\n\nMiss Slessor was not discouraged. She next asked Mr. Wilkie to come and\nsee the nature of the ground for himself, and the possibilities it\nheld; and the result was a New Year trip up the Creek, the party\nconsisting of Mr. and Mrs. Wilkie, Miss Wright, and herself. She was\nfar from well--far more unwell than even Miss Wright was aware of--but\nshe, nevertheless, resolved to go, and was conveyed to Ikunetu in a\nhammock. At Itu they camped at the church and house, neither of which\nwas yet finished, the doors being temporary erections, and the windows\nbeing screened by grass mats. Mrs. Wilkie's camp-bed occupied one end\nof the church, Miss Wright's the centre, whilst at the other end Miss\nSlessor's native sofa was placed with mats round it for the children.\nMr. Wilkie found a resting-place in one of the native houses in the\ntown. Military operations were still progressing, and there was a camp\nof soldiers at the foot of the hill, whose presence terrified the\npeople, and they besought the missionaries to remain for their\nprotection until the men moved on, and this they did. Colonel\nMontanaro, who arrived later, called on the ladies, and had a long talk\nwith Mary, to whom he expressed his delight at the result of his\ninvitation to Arochuku. \"These men,\" she wrote, \"are held by invisible\nbut strong bands to what is good, though outsiders do not see it.\"\n\nOn the way up the Creek they were obliged to pass the night at Akani\nObio, where Chief Onoyom came down to the beach and escorted them to\nhis house, and gave them all the room they required, two courts lit up\nby European lamps, and new mats. His fine face and courteous manners\nmade the same impression on the strangers as they had done on Miss\nSlessor. It was found that the native teacher had been doing his best,\nbut the chief was keen for all the advantages of a station, and was\nrelying upon \"Ma's\" word to assist him. Next morning they again took to\nthe canoe, but the water became so shallow that they had to land and\ntramp six miles to Amasu, passing the trenches where the natives sought\nto ambush the punitive force. New roads were being constructed\neverywhere, and barracks had been erected on a wind-swept hill in the\nneighbourhood.\n\nThe church was built near the Creek, and was still incomplete. As there\nwas no house they camped in the church as best they could, Mrs. Wilkie\nsleeping on a mud seat. The district, including the scene of the Long\nJuju, was inspected, and the people interviewed, and the party returned\nas they had come. They stopped at several villages, in one of which an\nold chief brought out a box containing Bibles and a _Pilgrim's\nProgress_ and reading-books. \"I had a son,\" he said, \"I was fond of\nhim, and he was anxious to learn book and God palavers, and I bought\nthese books and got some one to teach him, and was looking forward to\nmy boy becoming a great man and teaching the people good ways, but two\nmoons ago he died, and I have no more heart for anything.... I want\nGod,\" he continued fiercely, \"and you won't leave me till I find Him.\"\n\"Oh, father,\" replied Mary, \"God is here. He is waiting for you.\" The\nchief found God, and became a Christian.\n\n\n\n\n                             VI. BEGINNINGS\n\nMiss Slessor's indomitable spirit never gave in, but her body sometimes\ndid. She had been suffering much these past months from weakening\nailments brought on as the result of exposure and lack of nourishing\nfood, and she finally collapsed and was again far down in the dark\nvalley. But kind hands ministered to her and nursed her back to health.\n\"I rose,\" she said, \"a mere wreck of what I was, and that was not much\nat the best. My hair is silvered enough to please any one now, and I am\nnervous and easily knocked up, and so rheumatic that I cannot get up or\ndown without pain.\" She was gladdened by the news that the Mission\nCouncil had given her permission to make her proposed tour, and was not\ntroubled by the condition that she must not commit the Mission to\nextension. The Council thought that in view of her illness she ought\nrather to go home, and offered to provide for the work at Akpap and\ncare for her children until she returned. But the burden of the Creek\nlay sore on her mind, and as Miss Wright's furlough was also due, she\nwished to be near Akpap in case of need. She informed the Council that\nif she could be relieved she would begin her tour at once. When Miss\nWright left she gave more into the hands of Jean, who, she said, was as\ngood as any white servant; her right hand and her left.\n\nWhen the matter once more came up at the Council it was decided to send\nup two ladies to Akpap, and she was at last free to carry out her\ndesire. She looked forward to the enterprise with mingled feelings. \"It\nseems strange,\" she said, \"to be starting with a family on a gipsy life\nin a canoe, but God will take care of us. Whether I shall find His\nplace for me up-river or whether I shall come back to my own people\nagain, I do not know. He knows, and that is enough.\"\n\nPerhaps the most remarkable feature of this new forward movement was\nthat she was going at her own expense, backed by the private liberality\nof friends in Scotland, and assisted by native girls and boys, who\nreceived nothing from her but their board. She never asked the Mission\nto defray any of the expenditure which she incurred, and the building\nwas accomplished by herself and household, with the free labour of the\npeople. All that the opening up of the Enyong Creek to the Gospel cost\nthe Mission was her salary--which was now \u00a3100 per annum. She spent\nscarcely anything of this on her own personal wants. \"I have no object\non earth,\" she wrote at this time, \"but to get my food and raiment,\nwhich are of the plainest, and to bring up my bairns.\" A certain amount\nwas reserved at home by Mr. Logie, who all these years had managed her\naffairs, and even this she was always encroaching upon. Whenever she\nsaw an appeal in the Press for any good object she would write to him\nand request him to send a contribution.\n\nThere were many matters to be attended to before she left Akpap, and\nshe went down to Duke Town to hand over the business of the native\nCourt, and buy material for the buildings in the Creek. It was the\nfirst time for many years that she had been on Mission Hill, and she\ngreatly enjoyed her stay with the Wilkies, in whose home she was able\nto find quietness and comfort. The old people who knew the early\npioneers of the Mission flocked to see her, and her sojourn was one\nlong reception. A \"command\" invitation also came from the Commissioner,\nbut this she had the temerity to decline, saying that she was not\nvisiting. It is doubtful whether she had the attire fit for the\noccasion. He, however, came to see her, and was charmed with her\npersonality.\n\nIt was on this visit that she brought another of the younger\nmissionaries under her spell--the Rev. J. K. Macgregor, B.D., Principal\nof the Hope Waddell Institute. After his first meeting he wrote: \"A\nslim figure, of middle height, fine eyes full of power, she is no\nordinary woman. It was wonderful to sit and listen to her talking, for\nshe is most fascinating, and besides being a humorist is a mine of\ninformation on mission history and Efik custom.\" Mr. and Mrs. Macgregor\ngrew into intimate friends, and their home, like that of the Wilkies',\nthereafter became a haven of healing and rest.\n\nShe reached her base, Itu, with her family, in July, her health still\nenfeebled, but her spirit burning like a pure fire, and established\nherself in a house that was still unfinished. \"What a picture it\npresented,\" writes a Government doctor who visited her then. \"A native\nhut with a few of the barest necessities of furniture. She was sitting\non a chair rocking a tiny baby, while five others were quietly sleeping\nwrapped up in bits of brown paper and newspapers in other parts of the\nroom. How she managed to look after all these children, and to do the\ncolossal work she did my comprehension.\" The joy of the people at her\nadvent boundless. Her bairns had done wonders; the congregation\nnumbered 350, all devout, intelligent people. \"To-day,\" she wrote, \"as\nthe custom is after the lesson, the bairns each took a part in prayer,\nand before we rose a boy started 'Come, Holy Spirit, come.' We sang it\nthrough on our knees.\"\n\nBut calls came every day from other regions. A deputation from the\ninterior of Ibibio pled, \"Give us even a boy!\" Another brought a\nmessage from a chief in the Creek; \"It is not book that I want; it is\nGod!\" The chief of Akani Obio again came. \"Ma,\" he said, \"we have \u00a33 in\nhand for a teacher, and some of the boys are finished with the books\nMr. Wilkie gave us and are at a standstill.\" And, most pathetic of all,\none night, late, while she was reading by the light of a candle, a\nblaze of light shone through the cracks of the house, and fifteen young\nmen from Okoyong appeared before her to say that the young ladies who\nhad come to Akpap had already gone, and they were left without a \"Ma.\"\nShe sent them to a shelter for the night, and spent the hours in\nprayer, \"Oh Britain,\" she exclaimed, \"surfeited with privilege! tired\nof Sabbath and Church, would that you could send over to us what you\nare throwing away!\"\n\nInvited to the Mission Council in November 1904, she went, this being\nher first attendance for six years, and gave what the minutes call a\n\"graphic and interesting account\" of what had been accomplished. In Itu\na church and teacher's house had been built; and there were regular\nSabbath services and a catechumens' class, with forty candidates, and a\nday-school was conducted. At Amasu, Arochuku, a good school was built,\nand ground had been given by the chiefs. There were also the beginnings\nof congregations and buildings at four points in the Creek, at Okpo,\nAkani Obio, Odot, and Asang. The work, she said, had not yet reached a\nstage when she could conscientiously leave it; but she hoped before\ndeparting to see established such a native, self-supporting agency\nunder the control of the Mission as would guarantee a continuance of\nthe enterprise. The Council received her report with thankfulness, and\ngave her permission to continue for other six months on the same\ncondition as before--that no expense to the Mission should be involved\nin what she undertook.\n\nMany months of strenuous upbuilding followed, constantly interrupted by\npetty illnesses of a depressing kind. The house at Itu was completed,\nshe herself laying down a cement floor, and Jean whitewashing the\nwalls. Cement underfoot for many reasons was preferred, one being that\nit was impervious to ants. If these pests obtained hold of a house it\nwas difficult to drive them out, and many a night her entire family was\nup waging battle with them. In connection with her supplies of cement\nshe was once picked up at Ikunetu by some of her colleagues, who\nremarked on the number of trunks which accompanied her. \"You are surely\nricher than usual in household gear,\" they said. \"Household gear!\" she\nechoed; \"these are filled with cement--I had nothing else to bring it\nin!\" Once in Scotland a lady asked her if she had had any lessons in\nmaking cement. \"No,\" she replied; \"I just stir it like porridge; turn\nit out, smooth it with a stick, and all the time keep praying, 'Lord,\nhere's the cement if to Thy glory, set it,' and it has never once gone\nwrong.\"\n\nA picture of the days at this time is supplied by Miss Welsh: \"We\nvisited the women in their homes--we had evening prayers in such yards\nas the owners were willing to allow them. From morning till night 'Ma'\nwas busy--often far into the night. One brought a story of an unjust\ndivorce, another was sick; one brought a primer for a reading-lesson,\nanother was accused of debt and wished 'Ma' to vouch for his innocence;\nanother had, he declared, been cheated in a land case. All found a\nready listener, a friendly adviser and helper, though not all found\ntheir protestations of innocence believed in, and none went away\nwithout hearing of the salvation God had prepared for them.\"\n\nThe Okoyong people continued to come to her with their troubles. \"They\nseem to think,\" she says, \"that no one can settle their affairs but\nthis old lady.\" Rescues of twin-children were also going on all this\ntime. She could not now rush off, as she used to do, when the news\narrived, but she sent Jean flying to the spot, and the infants would be\nseized and the excited people held in check until she came on the\nscene. \"One more woman spoilt,\" she would say, \"and another home broken\nup.\"\n\nNothing gave her greater joy than the rapid development going on at\nAkani Obio. Chief Onoyom had never swerved from his determination to\nChristianise his people, and, although knowing practically nothing of\nthe white man's religion, had already started to build a church, using\nfor the purpose \u00a3800 which he had saved. At first he planned a native\nbuilding, but reflecting that if he were constructing a house for\nhimself it would be of iron, he felt he could not do less for God. He\ntherefore decided to put up as fine a structure as he could, with walls\nof iron and cement floor and a bell-tower. To make the seats and pulpit\nhe had the courage to use a magnificent tree which was regarded as the\nprincipal juju of the town. The story goes that the people declared the\njuju would never permit it to be cut down. \"God is stronger than juju,\"\nsaid Onoyom, and went out with a following to attack it. They did not\nsucceed the first day, and the people were jubilant. Next morning they\nreturned and knelt down and prayed that God would show Himself stronger\nthan juju, and then, hacking at the trunk with increased vigour, they\nsoon brought it to earth. That the people might have no excuse for\nabsenting themselves from the services during the wet season, Onoyom\nalso erected a bridge over the Creek for their use.\n\nTo the dedication of the building came a reverent, well-dressed\nassembly. The chief himself was attired in a black suit, with black\nsilk necktie and soft felt hat. He provided food for the entire\ngathering, but would not allow anything stronger than palm wine to be\ndrunk. Very shyly he came up to \"Ma\" and offered her a handful of\nmoney, asking her to buy provisions for herself, as he did not know\nwhat kind she liked.\n\nTwo short years before, the place and people had been known only to\ntraders.\n\nUp in Arochuku similar progress was being made. Her first long stay\nthere, spent in a hut without furniture--with not even a chair to sit\non--was a happy and strenuous one. She was busily engaged in erecting a\nschoolhouse with two rooms at the back. \"Little did I dream,\" she\nwrote, \"that I would mud walls and hang doors again. But the Creek is\nat the back door, and we have bathing in the sunshine, and it is a\ndelightful holiday.\" The earlier meetings were held in the open; the\nchiefs sat on improvised seats, the principal women, clothed and\nunclothed, squatted on skins or mats on the ground, lads and children\nstood about, the townspeople kept well back amongst the protecting\nfoliage. In the centre, in the shade of a giant tree, was a table\ncovered with a fine white cloth, and upon it a Bible and a native\nprimer. Here she stood to conduct the service, so strange to the savage\npeople. As she began, there was a stir at the side and a big chief, one\nof the principal traders to Okoyong in former days, moved into the\ncircle, along with his head wife. He was followed by another and his\nchildren, and then others appeared, until she had a great audience. She\ncould scarcely command her voice. To gain time she asked a chief to\nbegin with prayer in the Ibo tongue. All knelt. A hymn followed; there\nwas not the least semblance of a tune, all joining in anyhow, but\nsweeter music she never heard. The ten commandments were translated,\nsentence by sentence, by a chief, as were also the lessons and the\naddress. Another hymn was sung, then came a prayer by an old man, and\nanother by a woman, and the meeting closed with all repeating the\nLord's Prayer.\n\nIt was the same at other towns and villages along the Creek. Churches\nor schools were going up and congregations being formed. The notable\nthing was that women were taking a prominent part in the meetings;\nthis, no doubt, was due to the fact that the pioneer missionary was a\nwoman. And the cry from all the districts was for women and not men--\"A\nWhite Ma to teach our women book and washing and machine.\"\n\nIn July Mr. Macgregor was able to visit the infant stations, and was\ngreatly impressed. To him the journey up Creek was a new experience. As\nthe canoe pushed its way through the water-lilies the Institute boys\nsang Scottish Psalms to the tunes _Invocation_ and _St. George's_ much\nto Mary's delight. \"It's a long time since I heard these,\" she\nexclaimed. \"It puts me in a fine key for Sabbath.\" At Asang she\ntranslated Mr. Macgregor's sermon to a gathering of 300 people. \"Her\ninterpretation,\" he says, \"was most dramatic; she gave the address far\nmore force in Efik than it had in English. It was magnificent. And how\nthe people listened!\" He had the opportunity here of seeing how deftly\nshe handled a \"bad\" native. \"Don't come to God's house.\" she ended;\n\"God has no need of the likes of you with your deceit and craft. He can\nget on quite well without you--though you can't get on without God. Ay,\nyou have that lesson to learn yet.\"\n\nAt Arochuku it happened to be Egbo day, and the place was astir with\nnaked people, who came and stared at them as they ate. One man, who was\ndressed in a hat, a loincloth, and a walking-stick, sat in a corner and\nreceived a lecture from \"Ma,\" which lasted the whole meal. They\nexplored the district, saw the tree where criminals were hanged after\nterrible torture, the old juju-house with its quaint carving and relics\nof sacrifices, the new palaver-shed of beaten mud, and the great slave-\nroad into the interior. At one spot she stopped and exclaimed, \"That\nwas the road to the devil.\" It was the path to the Long Juju of bloody\nmemory. They returned by the new road through the _Ikot Mbiam_, the\naccursed bush into which the sick and dying slaves were flung when\ntheir days of useful service were over. At first the people would not\nuse this road; but now the land was laid out in farms and cultivations,\na tribute to the influence of British rule.\n\nOn the voyage down there were frequent showers in the Creek, and Mary\nsat with a waterproof over her head and shoulders, a strange figure,\nbut with a face glowing with spirit. When the end was in sight she\nproposed that they should sing the Doxology, and, none offering to\naccompany her, she sang it herself-twice....\n\nIn the quiet of the tropic nights she read the books and magazines and\npapers which friends sent her, and in this way kept abreast of world\naffairs. Her favourite journals were _The British Weekly, The\nChristian, The Life of Faith_, and _The Westminster Gazette_. Her\n_Record_ she read from cover to cover. It was with painful interest\nthat she followed at this time the developments of the great Church\ncrisis in the homeland. \"It tears my heart,\" she wrote, \"to see our\nbeloved Church dragged in and through the mire of public opinion.\" But\nshe had faith that good would issue out of it all. A keen politician,\nshe thirsted for election telegrams during periods of parliamentary\ntransition. But in all times of public unrest and excitement she fell\nback on the thought that God was on His throne and all was well.\n\n\n\n\n                           VII. MOVING INLAND\n\nIbo or Ibibio--which was it to be? Both regions were calling to her,\nand both attracted her. As the result of an arrangement with the Church\nMissionary Society the administrative districts adjoining the Cross\nRiver were recognised as the sphere of the United Free Church Mission.\n\"Now that this is settled,\" she wrote, \"I shall try to take a firmer\nhold in Arochuku. The church there is almost finished. My heart bleeds\nfor the people, but the Spirit has not yet suffered me to go.\" The dark\nmasses behind her at Itu drew her sympathies even more, simply because\nthey were lower in the scale of humanity. \"It is a huge country, and if\nI go in I can only touch an infinitesimal part of it. But it would be\ncriminal to monopolise the rights of occupation and not be able to\noccupy.\"\n\nHer line of advance was practically determined by the Government. Even\nwith military operations still going on a marvellous change was being\neffected in the condition of Ibibio. The country was being rapidly\nopened up, roads were being pushed forward, and courts established; the\nstir and the promise of new life was pulsating from end to end of the\nland. To her hut at Itu came Government and trade experts, consulting\nher on all manner of subjects, and obtaining information which no other\none could supply. The natives, on the other hand, came to her enquiring\nas to the meaning of the white man's movements, and she was able to\nreassure them and keep their confidence unshaken in the beneficial\ncharacter of the changes.\n\nShe made rapid reconnaissances inland, and these set her planning\nextension. Even the officials urged her to enter. They pointed to the\nroad. \"Get a bicycle, Ma,\" they said, \"and come as far as you can--we\nwill soon have a motor car service for you,\" Motors in Ibibio? The idea\nto her was incredible, but in a few months it was realised. \"Come on to\nIkot Okpene,\" wrote the officer at that distant centre--\"the road is\ngoing right through, and you will be the first here.\" She thought of\nthese men and their privations and their enthusiasm for Empire. \"Oh,\"\nshe said, \"if we would do as much for Christ!\" She, at any rate, would\nnot be found lagging, and in the middle of the year 1905 she sallied\nforth, taking with her a boy of twelve years named Etim, who read\nEnglish well, and, at a place called Ikotobong, some five and a half\nmiles inland, she formed a school and the nucleus of a congregation. \"I\ntrust,\" she said, \"that it will be the first of a chain of stations\nstretching across the country. The old chief is pleased. He told me\nthat the future, the mystery of things, was too much for him, and that\nhe would welcome the light. The people are to give Etim food, and I\nwill give him 5s. a month for his mother out of my store.\"\n\nThe lad proved an excellent teacher and disciplinarian, and gathered a\nschool of half a hundred children about him. Soon she was again in the\nthick of building operations, and for a time was too busy even to\nwrite. Slowly but surely Ikotobong became another centre of order and\nlight. The officials who ran in upon her from time to time said it was\nlike coming on a bit of Britain, and the Governor who called one day\ndeclared that the place was already too civilised for her.\n\nMuch to her joy there was a forward movement also on the part of the\nChurch. The Mission Council had not put aside its decision to make Itu\na medical base, and had been pressing the matter upon the Foreign\nMission Committee in Scotland, which also recognised the value of her\npioneer work and the necessity of following it up and placing it upon a\nproper basis. It was finally agreed to carry out the suggestion. Dr.\nRobertson from Creek Town was transferred to Itu to take oversight of\nthe work on the Creek, a new mission house and a hospital were planned,\nand a motor launch for the Creek journeys was decided on. For the\nlaunch the students of New College, Edinburgh, made themselves\nresponsible, and they succeeded in raising a sum of nearly \u00a3400 for the\npurpose. The hospital and dispensary and their equipment were provided\nby Mr. A. Kemp, a member of Braid United Free Church, Edinburgh, an\nadmirer of Miss Slessor's work, and at his suggestion it was called the\nMary Slessor Mission Hospital. When the news came to her she wrote: \"It\nseems like a fairy tale. I don't know what to say. I can just look up\ninto the blue sky and say, 'Even so, Father; in good and ill, let me\nlive and be worthy of it all.' It is a grand gift, and I am so glad for\nmy people.\"\n\nThus relieved of Itu she established herself at Ikotobong. But she was\nagain eager to press forwards, and wished to plant a station some\nfifteen miles farther on. It was a pace faster than the Church could\ngo. It had neither the workers nor the means to cope with all the\nopportunities she was creating. It is a striking picture this, of the\nrestless little woman ever forging her way into the wilderness and\ndragging a great Church behind her.\n\nShe had been amused at the idea of riding a bicycle, but she would have\ntried to fly if she could thereby have advanced the cause of Christ,\nand when Mr. Charles Partridge, the District Commissioner of Ikot\nEkpene, presented her with a new machine of the latest pattern, direct\nfrom England, she at once started to learn. \"Fancy,\" she wrote, \"an old\nwoman like me on a cycle! The new road makes it easy to ride, and I'm\nrunning up and down and taking a new bit in a village two miles off. It\nhas done me all the good in the world, and I will soon be able to\novertake more work. I wonder what the Andersons and the Goldies and the\nEdgerleys will say when they see that we can cycle twenty miles in the\nbush!\" The Commissioner had also brought out a phonograph with him, and\nshe was asked to speak into it. She recited In Efik the story of the\nProdigal Son, and when the words came forth again, the natives were\nelectrified, \"Does not that open up possibilities,\" she said, \"for\ncarrying the Gospel messages into the bush?\"\n\nHer work of patient love and faith on the Creek saw fruit towards the\nend of the year (1905), when the two churches at Akani Obio and Asang\nwere opened. A special meeting of Presbytery was held in the district,\nand eight members were present at the ceremonies. At Akani Obio the\nRev. John Rankin accepted the key from Chief Onoyom in the name of the\nPresbytery, and handed it to Miss Slessor, who inserted it in the lock\nand opened the door. There was an atmosphere of intense devotion, and\nMr. Weir preached from the text, \"This is none other but the house of\nGod, and this is the gate of heaven.\" The collection was over \u00a35.\n\nBoarding their canoe again the party proceeded to Asang, and were met\nby crowds of people. Flags floated everywhere, and they passed under an\narch of welcome. When the new native church, larger even than that at\nAkani Obio, came into sight, surrounded by well-dressed men and women\nand children, words failed the visitors from Calabar. Again Mary opened\nthe door, and again the building was unable to hold the audience. Mr.\nRankin preached from \"To you is the word of this salvation sent.\" The\ncollection was watched with astonishment by the visitors. It was piled\nup before the minister on the table, and bundle after bundle of rods\nfollowed one another, coming from those outside as well as those\ninside, until the amount reached \u00a320--a remarkable sum from a people\nwho were still heathen, but who were eager to know and learn about God\nand the right way of life. The visitors looked at one another. \"It is\nwonderful,\" they said. \"Surely it is of God.\" \"Ma\" was pleased but not\nsurprised; she knew how the people were crying for the light, and how\nwilling they were to give and serve. After the meeting the people would\nnot depart, and she and Mr. Weir addressed them outside. On the party\nreturning to Akani Obio an evening service was held, \"and,\" wrote one\nof them, \"the night closed down on as happy a group of missionaries as\none could imagine,\" \"It was grand,\" said another; \"the best apologetic\nfor Christianity I ever saw.\"\n\nSome weeks later the church at Okpo, where Jean had been teaching the\nwomen and girls, was opened in the view of hundreds of the people, who\ncontributed a collection of \u00a37.\n\nNot all the natives regarded these strange doings with equanimity. At\nAkani Obio some of the chiefs were so alarmed that they left the town\nin the belief that misfortune would come upon them on account of the\nchurch. But when they saw the people throwing away their charms and\nflocking to the services and no harm befalling them, they returned.\nThey were very angry when Onoyom put away his wives--he made ample\nprovision for them--and took back as his one consort a twin-mother whom\nhe had discarded. By and by came a fine baby boy to be the light of his\nhome. Akani Obio became a prohibition town, and on Sundays a white flag\nwas flown to indicate that no trading was allowed on God's day.\n\n\n\n\n                     VIII. THE PROBLEM OF THE WOMEN\n\nOne of the most baffling of West African problems is the problem of the\nwomen. There is no place for them outside the harem; they are dependent\non the social system of the country, and helpless when cast adrift from\nit; they have no proper status in the community, being simply the\ncreatures of man to be exploited and degraded--his labourer, his\ndrudge, the carrier of his kernels and oil, the boiler of his nuts. A\ngirl-child, if not betrothed by her guardian, lacks the protection of\nthe law. She can, if not attached to some man, be insulted or injured\nwith impunity. There was no subject which had given Mary so much\nthought, and she had long come to the conclusion that it was the\neconomic question which lay at the root of the evil. It seemed clear\nthat until they were capable of supporting themselves, and subsisting\nindependently of men, they would continue in their servility and\ndegradation, a prey to the worst practices of the bush, and a strong\nconservative force against the introduction of higher and purer methods\nof existence. Enlightened women frankly told Miss Slessor that they\ndespaired of ever becoming free from the toils of tradition and custom,\nand that there seemed no better destiny for them than the life of the\nharem and the ways of sin. It was a serious outlook for those who\nbecame Christians,--about whom she was most concerned,--and she could\nnot leave the matter alone. Her active mind was always moving amongst\nthe conditions around her, considering them, seeing beyond them, and\nsuggesting lines of improvement and advance; and in this case she saw\nthat she would have to show how women could be rendered independent of\nthe ties of a House, In Calabar Christian women supported themselves by\ndressmaking, and much of their work was sent up-country, and she did\nnot wish to take the bread out of their mouths. Gradually there came to\nher the idea of establishing a home in some populous country centre,\nwhere she could place her girls and any twin-mothers, waifs, or strays,\nor any Christian unable to find a livelihood outside the harem, and\nwhere they could support themselves by farm and industrial work. A\ngirls' school could also be attached to it. Two principles were laid\ndown as essential for such an institution: it must be based on the\nland, and it must be self-supporting--she did not believe in homes\nmaintained from without. All native women understood something of\ncultivation and the raising of small stock, and their efforts could be\nchiefly engaged in that direction, as well as in washing and\nlaundrying, baking, basket-making, weaving, shoemaking, and so forth.\nMachinery of a simple character run by water-power could be added when\nnecessary.\n\nIn view of the uncertainty of her own future, and the opening up of the\ncountry, she wisely held back from deciding on a site until she knew\nmore about the routes of the Government roads and the possible\ndevelopments of districts. She wanted virgin land and good water-power,\nbut she also desired what was still more important--a ready and\nsufficient market for the products. In her journeys into the interior\nof Ibibio she was constantly prospecting with the home in mind, and\nonce a chief who thought he had found a suitable site took her into a\nregion of more utter solitude than she had ever experienced in all her\nwanderings, where a path had to be cut for her through the matted\nvegetation. Not one of her guides would open his lips; while they\nfeared the wild beasts and reptiles, they feared still more the spirits\nof the forest, and they remained silent in case speech might betray\nthem to these invisible presences.\n\nBeing a European she could not, according to the law of the land, buy\nground, but she proposed to acquire it in the name of Jean and the\nother girls, and then give the Mission a perpetual interest in it. In a\nreport of her work on the Creek, which Miss Adam induced her to write\nat this time, in the shape of a personal letter to herself, and which\nappeared in the _Record_, and was characterised by masterly breadth of\noutlook and clear insight into the conditions of the country, she made\na reference to the project, saying: \"The expenditure of money is not in\nquestion--I am guarded against that by the express command of the\nCommittee. I shall only expend my own, or what my personal friends give\nme.\"\n\n\n\n\n                         IX. A CHRISTMAS PARTY\n\nWith the few white men in the district she was very friendly. They were\nchiefly on the Government staff, and included the surveyors on the new\nroad. Most of them were public-school men, and some, she thought, were\nalmost too fine for the work. \"Life,\" she said, \"is infinitely harder\nfor these men than for the missionary. But they never complain. They\nwork very cheerfully in depressing surroundings, living in squalid\nhuts, and undergoing many privations, doing their bit for civilisation\nand the Empire. And they are all somebody's bairns.\" She won them by\nher sympathy, entering into their lives, appreciating their\ndifficulties and temptations, and acting towards them as a wise mother\nwould. Her age, she said, gave her a chance others in the Mission had\nnot, and she sought in the most tactful way to lead them to a\nconsideration of the highest things.\n\nChristmastide as a rule came and went in the bush without notice,\nexcept for a strange tightening of the heart, and a renewal of old\nmemories. But this year, 1905, the spirit of the day seemed to fall\nupon these lonely white folk, and they forgathered at Ikotobong, and\nspent it in something like the home fashion. In a lowly shed, which had\nno front wall, and where the seats were of mud, no fewer than eight\nmen--officials, engineers, and traders from far and near--sat down to\ndinner. \"They could have gone elsewhere,\" wrote \"Ma,\" \"but they came\nand held an innocently happy day with an old woman, whose day for\nentertaining and pleasing is over.\"\n\nThere was no lack of Christmas fare. An officer of high standing had\nreceived his usual plum-pudding from home, but as he was leaving on\nfurlough, he sent it to \"Ma\"; a cake had come from Miss Wright, \"the\ndear lassie at Okoyong,\" and shortbread had arrived from Scotland, But\nthere was not a drop of intoxicating drink on the table.\n\nAfter dinner the old home songs and hymns full of memories and\nassociations were sung, often tremulously, for each had loved ones of\nwhom he thought. Jean, who had secured a canoe and come from Okpo, and\nthe other children, were present, and they sang an Efik hymn; and\nalthough Mary was the only Scot present the proceedings were rounded\noff with \"Auld Long Syne.\" \"I just lay back and enjoyed it all,\" she\nwrote, \"It is fifteen years since I spent a Christmas like it. Wasn't\nit good of my Father to give me such a treat? I was the happiest woman\nin the Mission that night! If I could only win these men for Christ--\nthat would be the best reward for their kindness.\" Next day they sent\nher a Christmas card on a huge sheet of surveying-paper, with their\nnames in the centre.\n\nMiss Wright, along with Miss Amess, a new colleague, arrived on the\n80th on a visit, and three of the Public Works officials spent the\nevening with them. Mary began to talk as if it were the last night of\nthe year. \"Oh,\" said one of the men, \"we have another day in which to\nrepent, Ma.\" \"Have we?\" she replied. \"I thought it was the last night--\nand I've been confessing my sins of the past year! I'll have to do it\nall over again.\" These officials asked the ladies to dine with them on\nNew Year's night, the form of invitation being--\n\n\"_The Disgraces three desire the company of the Graces three to dinner\nthis evening at seven o'clock. Lanterns and hammocks at 10 P.M.\nR.S.V.P_.\"\n\nIn reply \"Ma\" wrote some humorous verses. The dinner was given in the\nsame native shed as before. As the table-boy passed the soup, one of\nthe men made as if to begin. \"Ma,\" who was sitting beside him, put her\nhand on his and said, \"No, you don't, my boy, until the blessing is\nasked,\" and then she said grace. After dinner the bairns, who had been\nsitting at the door in the light of a big fire, were brought in, and\nprayers were conducted by Mary. On that occasion, when Miss Amess was\nbidding her \"Good-bye,\" she said to her, \"Lassie, keep up your pluck.\"\n\nThese men were very much afraid of the least appearance of cant, but\nthey would do anything for \"Ma\"; and when, a few days later, in order\nto give an object-lesson to the natives, she proposed an English\nservice, they agreed, and one of them read the lessons, and another led\nthe singing. A short time before white men were unknown to the\ndistrict.\n\n\n\n\n                              X. MUTINOUS\n\nShe was, under official ruling, to return to Akpap in April 1906, and\nshe was now reminded of the fact. She was in great distress, and\ninclined to be mutinous. \"There is an impelling power behind me, and I\ndare not look backward,\" she said. \"Even if it cost me my connection\nwith the Church of my heart's love, I feel I must go forward.\" And\nagain, \"I am not enthusiastic over Church methods. I would not mind\ncutting the rope and going adrift with my bairns, and I can earn our\nbite and something more.\" She had thoughts of taking a post under\nGovernment, or, with the help of her girls, opening a store. In a\nletter to the Rev. William Stevenson, the Secretary of the Women's\nForeign Mission Committee, she pointed out how her settlement at Itu\nhad justified itself, and referred to the rapid development of the\ncountry:--\n\nIn all this how plainly God has been leading me. I had not a thought of\nsuch things in my lifetime, nor, indeed, in the next generation, and\nyet my steps have been led, apart from any plan of mine, right to the\nline of God's planning for the country. First Itu, then the Creek, then\nback from Aro, where I had set my heart, to a solitary wilderness of\nthe most forbidding description, where the silence of the bush had\nnever been broken, and here before three months are past there are\nmiles of road, and miles and miles more all surveyed and being worked\nupon by gangs of men from everywhere, and free labour is being created\nand accepted as quickly as even a novelist could imagine. And the\nminutes says \"I am to return to Akpap in April!\" Okoyong and its people\nare very dear to me. No place on earth now is quite as dear, but to\nleave these hordes of untamed, unwashed, unlovely savages and withdraw\nthe little sunlight that has begun to flicker out over its darkness! I\ndare not think of it. Whether the Church permits it or not, I feel I\nmust stay here and even go on farther as the roads are made. I cannot\nwalk now, nor dare I do anything to trifle with my health, which is\nvery queer now and then, but if the roads are all the easy gradient of\nthose already made I can get four wheels made and set a box on them,\nand the children can draw me about.... With such facts pressing on me\nat every point you will understand my saying _I dare not go back_. I\nshall rather take the risk of finding my own chop if the Mission do not\nsee their way to go on. But if they see their way to meet the new needs\nand requirements, I shall do all in my power to further them without\nextra expense to the Church.\n\n\"This,\" she characteristically added, \"is not for publication; it is\nfor digestion.\"\n\nThere had never, of course, been any intention on the part of the\nChurch to draw back from the task of evangelising the new regions. But\nthe various bodies responsible for the work were stewards of the money\ncontributed for foreign missions, and they had to proceed in this\nparticular part of the field according to their resources. Both men and\nmeans were limited, and had to be adjusted to the needs, not in an\nimpulsive and haphazard way, but with the utmost care and forethought.\nAll connected with the Mission were as eager for extension as she was,\nbut they desired it to be undertaken on thorough and business-like\nlines. The difference between them and her was one of method; she, all\nafire with energy and enthusiasm, would have gone on in faith; they,\nmore prudent and calculating, wished to be sure of each step before\nthey advanced another.\n\nTo her great relief she was permitted to have her way. When it was seen\nthat she was bent on pressing forward, it was decided to set her free\nfrom ordinary trammels and allow her to act in future as a pioneer\nmissionary. It was a remarkable position, one not without its\ndifficulties and dangers, and one naturally that could not become\ncommon. But Mary Slessor was an exceptional woman, and it was to the\nhonour of the Church that it at last realised the line of her genius,\nand in spite of being sometimes at variance with her policy, permitted\nher to follow her Master in her own fashion.\n\nHer faith in the people and their own ability to support the work was\nproved more than once. It was a plucky thing for these men and women to\nbecome Christians, since it meant the entire recasting of their lives.\nYet this is what was now being often witnessed. One event at Akani Obio\nwas to her a \"foretaste of heaven\"--the baptism of the chief and his\nslave-wife and baby, a score of her people, and sixteen young boys and\ngirls, including one of the lads who had assisted to paddle the canoe\non the day when the Creek was first entered. She was ill, and was\ncarried to and from the town in sharp pain and much discomfort, but she\nforgot her body in the rare pleasure she experienced at the sight of so\nmany giving themselves to Christ. She had to hide her face on the\ncommunion-table. \"Over forty sat down in the afternoon to remember our\nLord's death 'till He come.' It cannot go back this work of His. Akani\nObio is now linked on to Calvary.\" She thought of those rejoicing\nabove. \"I am sure our Lord will never keep it from my mother.\"\n\nThe news from Arochuku was also cheering, although the messages told of\npersecution of the Infant Church by the chiefs, who threatened to expel\nthe teachers if they spoiled the old fashions. \"And what did you say to\nthat?\" she enquired. \"We replied, 'You can put us out of our country,\nbut you cannot put us away from God.'\" \"And the women?\" \"They said they\nwould die for Jesus Christ.\" She was anxious to visit Arochuku again,\nbut there had been exceptional rains, and the Creek had risen beyond\nits usual height and flooded the villages. Akani Obio suffered greatly,\nthe church being inundated. The chief was downcast, and in his\nsimplicity of faith thought God was punishing him, and searched his\nheart to find the cause, until \"Ma\" comforted him. He determined to\nrebuild the church on higher ground, and this intention he carried out\nlater. About a mile further up the Creek he chose a good site, and\nerected a new town called Obufa Obio, the first to be laid out on a\nregular plan. The main street is about forty yards wide, and in the\nmiddle of it is the chief's house, with the church close by. The side\nstreets are about ten yards wide. All the houses have lamps hanging in\nfront, and these are lit in the evenings, The boys have a large\nfootball field to themselves. Chief Onoyom, who is one of the elders of\nsession, continues to exercise a powerful influence for good throughout\nthe Creek.\n\nOne incident of the floods greatly saddened Mary. A native family were\nsleeping in their hut, but above the waters. The mother woke suddenly\nat the sound of something splashing about below. Thinking it was some\nwild animal, she seized a machete and hacked at it. Her husband also\nobtained his sword and joined in. When lights came, the mangled form of\nthe baby, who had fallen from the bed, was seen in the red water.\nDistracted at having murdered her child, the mother threw herself into\nthe Creek and was drowned.\n\nSo convinced was Mary of the importance of Arochuku, and so anxious to\nhave a recognised station there, that she offered to build a house free\nof expense to the Mission, if two agents could be sent up. This brought\nthe whole matter of extension to a definite issue, and a forward\nmovement was unanimously agreed on by the Council--the ladies being\nspecially anxious for this--any developments to take place by the way\nof the Enyong Creek. A committee was appointed to visit Arochuku and to\nconfer with Mary. Two ladies were actually appointed by the Council,\none being Miss Martha Peacock, who was afterwards to be so closely\nallied with her. When these matters came before the Foreign Mission\nCommittee in Scotland, a resolution was passed, which it is well to\ngive in full:\n\n1. That they recognise the general principle, that, in all ordinary\ncircumstances the Women's Foreign Mission should not make the first\nadvance into new territory, but follow the lead of the Foreign Mission\nCommittee, the function of the former being to supply the necessary\ncomplement to the work of the latter.\n\n2. That, however, in view of (_a_) the earnest desire of the people of\nthe district in question to receive Christian teaching, and their\nwillingness to help in providing it; (_b_) the fact that the region has\nbeen claimed by the United Free Church as within the sphere of its\noperations, and has had that claim acknowledged by the Church\nMissionary Society; (_c_) the steps which have already been taken by\nMiss Slessor, and what she is further prepared to do: they regard it as\nnot only highly desirable, but the duty of the Church to occupy the\nregion in question as soon as it is possible.\n\n3. That in view, on the other hand, of the present condition of their\nfunds, which are overtaxed by the already existing work, the Committee\ndeeply regret that it is beyond their means to add two new members to\nthe staff, as the Council requests, and that, therefore, the sending of\ntwo new agents to Arochuku must be meantime delayed.\n\n4. That the Committee, however, approve of the acceptance by the\nMission Council of Miss Slessor's generous offer to build the house,\nbut recommend the Council to consider whether the execution of the work\nshould not be delayed till there is a nearer prospect of new agents\nbeing supplied.\n\nThey further return thanks to Miss Slessor for her generosity, and\nrecord their warm appreciation of her brave pioneer work; and they\nexpress the earnest hope that the Church, by larger liberality, may\nsoon enable them to make the advance which has been so well prepared.\n\nMeanwhile the Rev. John Rankln had been given a roving commission in\norder to ascertain the best location for the future station, and he\ncame back from a tour in Ibo and Ibibio and fired the Council with the\ntale of what he had seen, and the wonderful possibilities of this great\nand populous region.\n\n\"Close to Arochuku within a circle, the diameter of which is less than\nthree miles, there are,\" he said, \"nineteen large towns. I visited\nsixteen of these, each of which is larger than Creek Town, The people\nare a stalwart race, far in advance of Efik. The majority are very\nanxious for help. A section is strongly opposed, even to the point of\npersecution of those who are under the influence of Miss Slessor, and\nothers have already begun to try to live in 'God's fashion.' This\nopposition seems to be one of the most hopeful signs, as proving that\nthere will be at least no indifference. The head chief of all the Aros,\nwho was the chief formerly in control of the 'long juju' is one of\nthose most favourable. He has already announced to the other chiefs his\nintention to rule in God's ways. He has been the most keen in asking\nthe missionary to come. A new church will be built, and he offers to\nbuild a house for any missionary who will come.\"\n\nWith something like enthusiasm the Committee set apart Mr. Rankin\nhimself to take up the work at Arochuku, and accepted the\nresponsibility of sending him at once....\n\nThus Arochuku, like Itu, passed into the control of the Foreign Mission\nCommittee, and became one of their stations and the centre of further\ndevelopments, and thus Miss Slessor's long period of anxiety regarding\nits position and future was at an end.\n\n\n\n\n                            XI. ON THE BENCH\n\nRecognising that \"Ma\" had an influence with the natives, which it was\nimpossible to abrogate, the Government decided to invest her with the\npowers of a magistrate.\n\nThe native courts of Nigeria consist of a number of leading chiefs in\neach district, who take turns to try cases between native and native.\nThe District Commissioner is _ex-officio_ president of those within his\nsphere, and each court is composed of a permanent vice-president and\nthree chiefs.\n\nBefore leaving Itu she was asked informally whether she would consent\nto take the superintendence of Court affairs in the district, as she\nhad done in Okoyong, but on a recognised basis. If she agreed, the\nCourt would be transferred to Ikotobong to suit her convenience and\nsafeguard her strength. She was pleased that the Government thought her\nworthy of the position, and was favourable to the idea. Already she was\nby common consent the chief arbiter in all disputes, and wielded unique\npower, but she thought that if she were also the official agent of the\nGovernment she might increase the range of her usefulness. Her aim was\nto help the poor and the oppressed, and specially to protect her own\ndowntrodden sex and secure their rights, and to educate the people up\nto the Christian standard of conduct; and such an appointment would\ngive her additional advantage and authority. \"It will be a good\nchance,\" she said, \"to preach the Gospel, and to create confidence and\ninspire hope in these poor wretches, who fear white and black man\nalike; while it will neither hamper my work nor restrict my liberty.\"\nOn stating that she would do the work she was told that a salary was\nattached to the post, but she declared that nothing would induce her to\naccept it, \"I'm born and bred, and am in every fibre of my being, a\nvoluntary.\"\n\nThe formal offer came in May 1905, in the shape of this letter:\n\n1. I am directed by His Excellency the High Commissioner to enquire\nwhether you would accept office as a Member of Itu Native Court with\nthe status of permanent Vice-President. His Excellency is desirous of\nsecuring the advantage of your experience and intimate knowledge of\nnative affairs and sympathetic interest in the welfare of the\nvillagers, and understands that you would not be averse to place your\nservice at the disposal of the Government.\n\n2. It is proposed to assign you a nominal salary of one pound a year,\nand to hand you the balance--forty-seven pounds per annum--for use in\nforwarding your Mission work.\n\n3. It is proposed to transfer Itu Court to Ikotobong.\n\nShe thanked the Government for the honour and for the confidence\nreposed in her, and said she was willing to give her services for the\ngood of the people in any way, but she declined to accept any\nremuneration.\n\nShe took over the books in October, acting then and often afterwards,\nas clerk, and carrying through all the tedious clerical duties. It was\nstrange and terrible, but to her not unfamiliar work. She came face to\nface with the worst side of a low-down savage people, and dealt with\nthe queerest of queer cases. One of the first was a murder charge in\nwhich a woman was involved. Women were indeed at the bottom of almost\nevery mischief and palaver in the country. With marriage was mixed up\npoisoning, sacrifice, exactions, oaths, debts, and cruelty unspeakable.\nMary was often sick with the loathing of it all. \"God help these poor\nhelpless women!\" she wrote. \"What a crowd of people I have had to-day,\nand how debased! They are just like brutes in regard to women. I have\nhad a murder, an es\u00e9r\u00e9 case, a suicide, a man for branding his slave-\nwife all over her face and body; a man with a gun who has shot four\npersons--it is all horrible!\"\n\nHere are three specimen charges, and the results, in her own writing:--\n\n\n                            FOR IMPRISONMENT\n\nO. I. Found guilty of brawling in market and taking by force 8 rods\nfrom a woman's basket. One month's hard labour.\n\nP. B. Chasing a girl into the bush with intent to injure. One month's\nhard labour.\n\nU. A. (a) Seizing a woman in the market. (b) Chaining her for 14 days\nby neck and wrists. Throwing _mbiam_ with intent to kill should she\nreveal it to white man. Sentenced to six months' hard labour, and to be\nsent back on expiry of sentence to pay costs.\n\nShe had the right of inflicting punishment up to six months'\nimprisonment, but often, instead of administering the law, she\nadministered justice by giving the prisoner a blow on the side of the\nhead!\n\nThe oath taken was usually the heathen mbiam. For this were needed a\nskull and a vile concoction in a bottle, that was kept outside the\nCourt House on account of the smell. After a witness had promised to\nspeak the truth, one of the members of the Court would take some of the\nstuff and draw it across his tongue and over his face, and touch his\nlegs and arms. It was believed that if he spoke falsely he would die.\nAfter Miss Slessor took up her duties, a heathen native, who had\nclearly borne false witness, dropped down dead on leaving the Court,\nwith the result that _mbiam_ was in high repute for a time in the\ndistrict.\n\nAlthough three local chiefs sat by her side on the \"bench,\" and the\njury behind her, she ruled supreme. \"I have seen her get up,\" says a\nGovernment official of that time, \"and box the ears of a chief because\nhe continued to interrupt after being warned to be quiet. The act\ncaused the greatest amusement to the other chiefs.\" They often writhed\nunder her new edicts regarding women, but they always acquiesced in her\njudgment. For not providing water for twin-mothers, she fined a town\n\u00a33. Miss Amess tells of a poor woman wishing a divorce from her scamp\nof a husband. The \"Court\" evidently thought she had sufficient cause,\nand there and then granted the request, and asked her colleague to\nwitness the act. The woman was triumphant, feeling very important at\nhaving two white people on her side, while the man stood trembling, as\n\"Ma\" expressed her candid opinion of him. In the Government report for\n1907 it was stated that a number of summonses had been issued by the\nDistrict Commissioner against husbands of twin-bearing women for\ndesertion and support, and in every case the husbands agreed to take\nthe women back, the sequel being that other women in the same plight\nwere also received again into their families. \"The result,\" says the\nreport, \"is a sign of the civilising influence worked through the Court\nby that admirable lady, Miss Slessor.\"\n\nSome of her methods were not of the accepted judicial character. She\nwould try a batch of men for an offence, lecture them, and then impose\na fine. Finding they had no money she would take them up to the house\nand give them work to earn the amount, and feed them well. Needless to\nsay they went back to their homes her devoted admirers. Her excuse for\nsuch irregular procedure was, that while they were working she could\ntalk to them, and exercise an influence that might prove abiding in\ntheir lives. This was the motive animating all her actions in the\nCourt. \"When 'Ma' Slessor presided,\" it was said, \"her Master was\nbeside her, and His spirit guided her.\"\n\nThe Court was popular, for the natives had their tales heard at first\nhand, and not through an interpreter. \"Ma's\" complete mastery of their\ntongue, customs, habits, and very nature, gave her, of course, an\nexceptional advantage. One District Commissioner spent three days in\ntrying a single case, hearing innumerable witnesses, without coming\nwithin sight of the truth. In despair he sought her aid, and she\nsettled the whole dispute to the satisfaction of every one by asking\ntwo simple questions. It was impossible for any native to deceive her.\nA Government doctor had occasion to interview a chief through an\ninterpreter. She was standing by. As the chief spoke she suddenly broke\nin, and the man simply crumpled up before her. The doctor afterwards\nasked her what the chief had done. \"He told a lie, and I reprimanded\nhim--but I cannot understand how he could possibly expect me not to\nknow.\" Again and again she reverted to the matter. \"To think he could\nhave expected to deceive _me_!\" Another official tells how a tall,\nwell-built, muscular chief cowered before her. \"Having no knowledge of\nthe language, I could not tell what it was all about, but plainly the\nman looked as if his very soul had been laid bare, and as though he\nwished the earth would open and swallow him. She combined most happily\nkindliness and severity, and indeed I cannot imagine any native trying\nto take advantage of her kindness and of her great-hearted love for the\npeople. This is the more remarkable to any one with intimate personal\nacquaintance with the native, and of his readiness to regard kindness\nas weakness or softness, and his endeavour to exploit it to the\nutmost.\"\n\nAll this Court business added to her toil, as a constant stream of\npeople came to her at the Mission House in connection with their cases.\nShe did not, however, see them all. It became her practice to sit in a\nroom writing at her desk or reading, and send the girls to obtain the\nsalient features of the story. They knew how to question, and what\nfacts to take to her, and she sent them back with directions as to what\nshould be done. When she was ill and feeble she extended this practice\nto other palavers. People still came from great distances to secure her\nruling on some knotty dispute, and having had their statements conveyed\nto her, she would either give the reply through the girls, or speak out\nof the open window, and the deputation would depart satisfied, and act\non her advice. Her correspondence also increased in volume, and she\nreceived many a curious communication. The natives would sometimes be\npuzzled how to address her, and to make absolutely sure they would send\ntheir letters to \"Madam, Mr., Miss, Slessor.\"\n\n\n\n\n                         XII. A VISITOR'S NOTES\n\nA pleasant glimpse of her at this time is given in some notes by Miss\nAmess. On Miss Wright going home--she shortly afterwards married Dr.\nRattray of the Mission staff, both subsequently settling in England--\nMiss Amess was not permitted to stay alone in Okoyong, and she asked to\nbe associated with Miss Slessor at Ikotobong. It was a happy\narrangement for the latter. \"What a relief it is,\" she wrote, \"to have\nsome one to lean on and share the responsibility of the bairns. Miss\nAmess is so sane and capable and helpful, and is always on the watch to\ndo what is to be done--a dear consecrated lassie.\" Miss Amess says:\n\nWhen I went to Calabar I heard a great deal about Miss Slessor, and\nnaturally I wished to see her. She had been so courageous that I\nimagined she must be somewhat masculine, with a very commanding\nappearance, but I was pleasantly disappointed when I found she was a\ntrue woman, with a heart full of motherly affection. Her welcome was\nthe heartiest I received. Her originality, brightness, and almost\ngirlish spirit fascinated me. One could not be long in her company\nwithout enjoying a right hearty laugh. As her semi-native house was\njust finished, and she always did with the minimum of furniture and\nculinary articles, the Council authorised me to take a filter, dishes,\nand cooking utensils from Akpap, and I had also provision cases and\npersonal luggage. I was not sure of what \"Ma\" would say about sixteen\nloads arriving, because there were no wardrobes or presses, and one had\njust to live in one's boxes. When \"Ma\" saw the filter she said, \"Ye\nmaun a' hae yer filters noo-a-days. Filters werna created; they were an\nafter-thocht.\" She quite approved of my having it all the same.\n\nMail day was always a red-letter day. We only got letters fortnightly\nthen. She was always interested in my home news and told me hers, so\nthat we had generally a very happy hour together. Then the papers would\nbe read and their contents discussed. To be with her was an education.\nShe had such a complete grasp of all that was going on in the world.\nOne day after studying Efik for two hours she said to me, \"Lassie, you\nhave had enough of that to-day, go away and read a novel for a short\ntime.\"\n\nShe was very childlike with her bairns and dearly loved them. One night\nI had to share her bed, and during the night felt her clapping me on\nthe shoulder. I think she had been so used with black babies that this\nwas the force of habit, for she was amused when I told her of it in the\nmorning.\n\nThere was no routine with \"Ma.\" One never knew what she would be doing.\nOne hour she might be having a political discussion with a District\nCommissioner, the next supervising the building of a house, and later\non judging native palavers. Late one evening I heard a good deal of\ntalking and also the sound of working. I went in to see what was doing\nand there was \"Ma\" making cement and the bairns spreading it on the\nfloor with their hands in candle light. The whole scene at so late an\nhour was too much for my gravity.\n\nWhen at prayers with her children she would sometimes play a tambourine\nat the singing, and if the bairns were half asleep it struck their\ncurly heads instead of her elbow.\n\nHer outstanding characteristic was her great sympathy, which enabled\nher to get into touch with the highest and the lowest. Once while\ncycling together we met the Provincial Commissioner. After salutations\nand some conversation with him she finished up by saying, \"Good-bye,\nand see and be a guid laddie!\"\n\nWhile out walking one Sabbath we came across several booths where the\nnatives who were making the Government road were living. She began\nchatting with them, and then told them the Parable of the Lost Sheep.\nShe told everything in a graphic way, and with a perfect knowledge of\nthe vernacular, and they followed her with reverence and intense\ninterest all through. To most of them, if not to all, that would be the\nfirst time they had heard of a God of Love.\n\nShe had really two personalities. In the morning one would hear\nevildoers getting hotly lectured for their \"fashions,\" and in the\nevening when all was quiet she lifted one up to the very heights\nregarding the things of the Kingdom. She always had a wonderful vision\nof what the power of the Gospel could make of the most degraded, though\nbound by the strongest chains of superstition and heathenism. One might\nenter her house feeling pessimistic, but one always left it an\noptimist.\n\n\n\n\n                           XIII. A REST-HOME\n\nA touch of romance seemed to be connected with all her work. The next\nidea she sought to develop was a Rest-House or week-end, holiday, or\nconvalescent home, where the ladies of the Mission, when out of\nspirits, or run down in health, could reside and recuperate without the\nfear of being a trouble or expense to others. In a tropical country,\nwhere a change and rest is so often essential to white workers, such a\nquiet accessible resort would, she thought, prove a blessing. But there\nwas no money for the purpose. One day, however, she received a cheque\nfor \u00a320. Years before, in Okoyong, Dr. Dutton of the Tropical School of\nMedicine had stayed with her for scientific study. He went on to the\nCongo, and there succumbed. On going over his papers, his family found\nher letters, and in recognition of her kindness and interest, sent her\na gift of \u00a320. Thinking of a way of spending the money which would have\npleased her friend, she determined to apply it to the building of her\nRest-House.\n\nThe site for such a resort required to be near the Creek, and she\ndiscovered one on high land at Use between Ikotobong and Itu, and two\nmiles from the landing-beach. The road here winds round hills from\nwhich beautiful views are obtained. On this side one sees far into Ibo\nbeyond Arochuku, on that the vision is of Itu and the country behind\nit, while on the west the palm-covered plain rises into the highlands\nof Ikot Ekpene. It is one of the fairest of landscapes, but is the\nhaunt of leopards and other wild beasts, and after rain the roadway is\noften covered with the marks of their feet.\n\nThe ground was cleared, and building operations begun, the plan worked\nout being a small semi-European cottage and native yard. Other cottages\nwould follow. Before long, however, the feeling grew that Ikotobong\nshould be taken over by the Women's Foreign Mission Committee, and she\nforesaw that Use would require to be her own headquarters.\n\nTowards the end of the year Miss E, M'Kinney, one of the lady agents,\ncalled at Use, and found her living in a single room, and sleeping on a\nmattress placed upon a sheet of corrugated iron. As the visitor had to\nleave early in the morning, and there were no clocks in the hut, \"Ma\"\nadopted the novel device of tying a rooster to her bed. The plan\nsucceeded; at first cock-crow the sleepers were aroused from their\nslumbers.\n\nIt was not so much a rest-house for others that was needed, as a rest\nfor herself. She was gradually coming to the end of her strength.\nThroughout the year 1906 she suffered from diarrhoea, boils, and other\nweakening complaints, and the Government doctor at last frankly told\nher that if she wished to live and work another day, she must go home\nat once. Her answer to his fiat was to rally in a wonderful way. \"It\nlooks,\" she said, \"as if God has forbidden my going. Does this appear\nas if He could not do without me? Oh, dear me, poor old lady, how\nlittle you can do! But I can at least keep a door open.\" It was,\nhowever, only a respite. By the beginning of 1907 she could not walk\nhalf-a-dozen steps, her limbs refused to move, and she needed to be\ncarried about. It was obvious, even to herself, that she must go home.\nHome! the very word brought tears to her eyes. The passion for the old\nland and \"kent\" faces, and the graves of her beloved, grew with her\nfailing power. A home picture made her heart leap and long. \"Oh, the\ndear homeland,\" she cried, \"shall I really be there and worship in its\nchurches again! How I long for a wee look at a winter landscape, to\nfeel the cold wind, and see the frost in the cart-ruts, to hear the\nring of shoes on the hard frozen ground, to see the glare of the shops,\nand the hurrying scurrying crowd, to take a back seat in a church, and\nhear without a care of my own the congregation singing, and hear how\nthey preach and pray and rest their souls in the hush and solemnity.\"\n\nShe arranged to leave in May, and set about putting her household\naffairs in order. The safeguarding of the children gave her much\nsolicitude. For Jean and the older girls she trembled. \"They must be\nleft in charge of the babies, with only God to protect them.\" Dan, now\nsix years old, she took with her as a help to fetch and carry. Her\ndeparture and journey were made wonderfully easy by the kindness of\nGovernment officials, who vied with each other in taking care of her\nand making her comfortable. One of her friends, Mr. Gray, packed for\nher, stored her furniture, conveyed her to Duke Town, and asked his\nsister in Edinburgh to meet her. Mr. Middleton, of Lagos, wrote to say\nhe was going home, and would wait for her in order to \"convoy her\nsafely through all the foreign countries between Lagos and the other\nside of the Tweed.\" \"Now there,\" she wrote to the Wilkies--\"Doth Job\nserve God for nought?\" Very grateful she was for all the attention.\n\"God must repay these men,\" she said, \"for I cannot. He will not forget\nthey did it to a child of His, unworthy though she is.\" After the\nvoyage she wrote: \"Mr. Middleton has faithfully and very tenderly\ncarried out all his promises. Had I been his mother, he could not have\nbeen more attentive or kind.\"\n\n\n\n\n                   XIV. SCOTLAND: THE LAST FAREWELL\n\nA telegram to Mrs. M'Crindle at Joppa informed her that her friend had\narrived at Liverpool and was on the way to Edinburgh. She met the\ntrain, and saw an old wrinkled lady huddled in a corner of a carriage.\nCould that be Miss Slessor? With a pitying hand she helped her out and\nconveyed her, with Dan, to the comfort of her home.\n\nBut soon letters, postcards, invitations, parcels began flowing in.\n\"This correspondence,\" she wrote, \"is overwhelming. I cannot keep pace\nwith it.\" There was no end to the kindness which people showered upon\nher. Gifts of flowers, clothes, and money for herself and her work, and\ntoys for Dan were her daily portion. \"It is a wonderful service this,\"\nshe said, \"which makes the heart leap to do His will, and it is all\nunknown to the nearest neighbour or the dearest friend, but it keeps\nthe Kingdom of Heaven coming every day anew on the earth.\" One \u00a35 was\nslipped into her hand for her bairns. \"My bairns don't require it,\" she\nreplied, \"and won't get it either, but it is put aside, till I see the\nBoard, as the nest-egg of my Home for Girls and Women in Calabar. If I\ncan get them to give the woman or women, I shall give half of my salary\nto help hers, and will give the house and find the servants, and I can\nfind the passage money from personal friends. Pray that the Board may\ndare to go on in faith, and take up this work.\"\n\nBetween spells of colds and fevers she visited friends. At Bowden again\nshe had the exquisite experience of enjoying utter rest and happiness.\nA pleasant stay was at Stanley, with the family of Miss Amess, who was\nalso at home, and with whom she rose early in the morning and went out\ncycling. She cycled also with Miss Logie at Newport, but was very timid\non the road. If she saw a dog in front she would dismount, and remount\nafter she had passed it. She went over to Dundee and roamed through her\nformer haunts with an old factory companion, looking wistfully at the\nscenes of her girlhood.\n\n\"I have been gladdened,\" she wrote to an English friend, \"at finding\nmany of those I taught in young days walking in the fear and love of\nGod, and many are heads of families who are a strength and ornament to\nthe Church of Christ. About thirty-five or thirty-eight years ago three\nladies and myself began to work in a dreadful district-one became a\ndistrict nurse, one worked among the fallen women and the prisons of\nour cities, and one has been at home working quietly--and we all met in\ngood health and had such a day together. We went up the old roads and\ntalked of all God had done for us and for the people, and again\ndedicated ourselves to Him. It was probably the last time we shall meet\ndown here, but we were glad in the hope of eternity.\"\n\nShe had not been in Scotland since the Union of the Churches, and one\nof her first duties was to call upon Mr. Stevenson, the Secretary of\nthe Women's Foreign Mission Committee, and his assistant, Miss\nCrawford. She had a high sense of the value of the work going on at\nheadquarters, and always maintained that the task of organising at home\nwas much harder than service in the field. But she had a natural\naversion to officialdom, and anticipated the interviews with dread. She\npictured two cold, unsympathetic individuals--a conception afterwards\nrecalled with amusement. What the reality was may be gathered from a\nletter she wrote later to Mr. Stevenson: \"I have never felt much at\nhome with our new conditions, and feared the result of the Union in its\ndetail, though I most heartily approved of it in theory and fact. No! I\nshall not be afraid of you. Both Miss Crawford and yourself have been a\nrevelation to me, and I am ashamed of my former fancies and fears, and\nI shall ever think of, and pray for the secretaries with a very warm\nand thankful heart.\"\n\nThere was an element of humour in her meeting with Miss Crawford. The\ntwo women, somewhat nervous, stood on opposite sides of the office\ndoor. She, without, was afraid to enter, shrinking from the task of\nfacing the unknown personage within--a woman who had been in India and\nwritten a book, and was sure to be masculine and hard! She, within, of\ngentle face and soft speech, leant timidly on her desk, nerving herself\nfor the coming shock, for the famous pioneer missionary was sure to be\n\"difficult\" and aggressive. When Mary entered they glanced at one\nanother, looked into each other's eyes, and with a sigh of relief\nsmiled and straightway fell in love. When Mary gave her affection she\ngave it with a passionate abandon, and Miss Crawford was taken into the\ninmost sanctuary of her heart. \"You have been one of God's most\nprecious gifts to me on this furlough,\" she said later. In her humility\nMiss Crawford spoke about not being worthy to tie her shoe. \"Dear\ndaughter of the King,\" exclaimed the missionary, \"why do you say that?\nIf you knew me as God does! Never say that kind of thing again!\"\n\nThe ordeal of meeting the Women's Foreign Mission Committee was also a\ndisillusionment. Her friend, Dr. Robson, was in the chair, and his\nopening prayer was an inspiration, and lifted the proceedings to the\nhighest level. Nothing could have been kinder than her reception, which\ndelighted her greatly. \"There was such a sympathetic hearing for\nCalabar, especially from the old Free Church section, who are as eager\nfor the Mission as the old United Presbyterians.\" A conference was held\nwith her in regard to the position of Ikotobong, and her heart was\ngladdened by the decision to take over the station and place two lady\nmissionaries there, Miss Peacock and Miss Reid. At another conference\nwith a sub-committee she discussed the matter of the Settlement, gave\nan outline of her plans, and intimated that already two ladies had\noffered \u00a3100 each to start the enterprise, while other sums were also\non hand. The sub-committee was much impressed with the sense of both\nthe necessity and promise of the scheme, and recommended the Women's\nCommittee to express general approval of it, and earnest sympathy with\nthe end in view, and to authorise her to take the necessary steps on\nher return for the selection of a suitable site, the preparation of\nplans, and estimates of the cost of the ground, buildings, and agents,\nin order that the whole scheme might be submitted through the Mission\nCouncil, at the earliest practicable date, for sanction. The general\nCommittee unanimously and cordially adopted this recommendation.\n\nIt was expected that she would address many meetings throughout the\ncountry during her furlough to interest people in her work and\nprojects, but she astonished every one by intimating that she was\nleaving for Calabar in October, although she had only been a few months\nat home. In her eyes friends saw a look of sorrow, and said to one\nanother that the burden of the work was lying upon her heart. But few\nknew the secret of her sadness. To some who remonstrated she said, \"My\nheart yearns for my bairns--they are more to me than myself.\" The truth\nwas that a story about Jean had been set afloat by a native and had\nreached her in letters, and she could hardly contain herself until she\nhad found out the meaning of it. At all costs she must get back. Even\nher pilgrimage to the graves of her dear ones in Devon must be given\nup.\n\nMuch against her will and pleading she was tied down to give at least\nthree addresses in the great towns, but with her whole being unhinged\nby the shadow that overhung her, she had little mind for public\nspeaking. Her old nervousness in the face of an audience returned with\ntenfold force. \"I am trembling for the meetings,\" she wrote, \"but\nsurely God will help me. It is His own cause.\" And again, \"I am\nsuffering tortures of fear, and yet why is it that I cannot rest in\nHim? If He sends me work, surely He will help me to deliver His\nmessage, and to do it for His glory. He never failed me before. If He\nbe glorified that is all, whether I be considered able or not.\"\n\nShe never prepared a set speech, and when she was going up to the\nEdinburgh meeting with Mrs. M'Crindle, she turned to her and said,\n\"What am I to say?\" \"Just open your lips and let God speak,\" replied\nher friend. She was greatly pleased with the answer, and on that\noccasion she never spoke better. Dr. Robson presided, and Mrs. Duncan\nM'Laren, in bidding her farewell on behalf of the audience, said,\n\"There are times when it needs God-given vision to see the guiding\nhand. We feel that our friend has this heavenly vision, and that she\nhas not been disobedient to it. We all feel humbled when we hear what\nshe and her brave colleagues have done. In God's keeping we may safely\nleave her.\"\n\nAt the meeting in Glasgow the feeling was even more tense and\nemotional, and a hush came over the audience as the plain little woman\nmade her appeal, and told them that in all probability she would never\nagain be back. At the benediction she stood, a pathetic figure, her\nhead drooping, her whole attitude one of utter weariness.\n\nOn the eve of her departure she was staying with friends. At night they\nwent into her room and found her weeping quietly in bed. They tried to\ncomfort her, and she said half-whimsically that she had been overcome\nby the feeling that she was homeless and without kith and kin la her\nown country. \"I'm a poor solitary with only memories.\" \"But you have\ntroops of friends--you have us all--we all love you.\" \"Yes, I ken, and\nI am grateful,\" she replied, \"but\"--wistfully--\"it's just that I've\nnone of my ain folk to say good-bye to.\"\n\nShe was very tired when she left, \"I'm hardly myself in this country,\"\nshe said. \"It has too many things, and it is always in such a hurry. I\nlose my head.\" Again kind hands eased her way, and settled her on the\nsteamer. Dan was inconsolable, and wept to be taken back to Joppa.\n\nThe voyage gave her a new lease of life. The quietness and peace and\nmeditation, the warm sunshine and the breezes, the loveliness of the\nsky and sea, rested and healed her. This, despite the conduct of some\nwild passengers bound for the gold-mines. One day she rose and left the\ntable by way of protest, but in the end they bade her a kindly good-\nbye, and listened to her advice. At Lagos the Governor sent off his\naide-de-camp with greetings, and a case of milk for the children. Mr.\nGrey also appeared and escorted her to Calabar. \"Am I not a privileged\nand happy woman?\" she wrote to his sister.\n\nThe same note of gratitude filled a letter which she wrote on board to\nDr. Robson, asking him to put a few lines in the _Record_ thanking\nevery one for their kindness, as it was impossible to answer all the\nletters she had received. The letter itself was inserted, and we give\nthe concluding paragraph:\n\nTo all who have received me into their homes, and given me a share of\nwhat are the most sacred things of earth, I give heartfelt thanks. What\nthe Bethany house must have been to our Lord, no one can better\nappreciate than the missionary coming home to a strange place,\nhomeless. I thank all those who have rested me, and nursed me back to\nhealth and strength, and who have nerved me for future service by the\nsweet ministries and hallowing influences of their home life. To the\nmembers of the Mission Board for their courtesy, their confidence, and\nsympathetic helpfulness, I owe much gratitude. And not only for\nservices which can be tabulated, but for the whole atmosphere of\nsympathy which has surrounded me; for the hand-clasps which have spoken\nvolumes; for the looks of love which have beamed from eyes soft with\nfeeling; for the prayer which has upheld and guided in days gone by,\nand on which I count for strength in days to come; for all I pray that\nGod may say to each giving, sympathetic heart, \"Inasmuch as ye did it\nto one of the least of these my brethren, ye did it unto Me.\"\n\nShe was praying all the while for her bairn. On her arrival, as fast as\nboat would take her, she sped up to Use. The chiefs and people came\ncrowding to welcome her, bringing lavish gifts of food-yams and salt\nand fish and fowl. There were even fifty yams, and a goat from the back\nof Okoyong. Dan with his English clothes was the centre of admiration,\nand grave greybeards sat and listened to the ticking of his watch, and\nplayed with his toy train....\n\nTo her unspeakable relief she found the story about Jean to be a native\nlie. She was too grateful to be angry.\n\n\n\n\n                          XV. GROWING WEATHER\n\nThe short furlough in Scotland, broken by so much movement and\nexcitement, had done little permanent good. She was tired when she\nbegan her work, and there came a long series of \"up and down\" days\nwhich handicapped her activity, yet she continued her duties with a\nresolution that was unquenched and unquenchable. \"Things are humdrum,\"\nshe wrote, \"just like this growing weather of ours, rainy and cloudy,\nwith a blink here and there. We know the brightness would scorch and\ndestroy if it were constant; still the bursts of glory that come\nbetween the clouds are a rich provision for our frail and sensitive\nlives.\" Her conception of achievement was a little out of the common.\nOne day she sat in court for eight hours; other two hours were spent\nwith the clerk making out warrants; afterwards she had to find tasks to\nemploy some labour; then she went out at dusk and attended a birth case\nall night, returning at dawn. Whole days were occupied with palavers,\nmany of the people coming such long distances that she had to provide\nsleeping accommodation for them. Old chiefs would pay her visits and\nstay for hours. \"It is a great tax,\" she remarked, \"but it pays even if\nit tires.\" Sundays were her busiest days; she went far afield\npreaching, and had usually from six to twelve meetings in villages and\nby the wayside. Often on these excursions she came across natives who\nhad made the journey to Okoyong to consult her in the old days. The\nsituation was now reversed, for people from Okoyong came to her. One\nday after a ten hours' sitting in Court she went home to find about\nfifty natives from the hinterland of that district waiting with their\nusual tributes of food and a peck of troubles for her to straighten\nout. It was after midnight before there was quiet and sleep for her.\nHer heart went out to these great-limbed, straight-nosed, sons of the\naboriginal forest, and she determined to cross the river and visit\nthem. She spent three days fixing up all their domestic and social\naffairs, and making a few proclamations, and diligently sowing the\nseeds of the Gospel. When she left she had with her four boys and a\ngirl as wild and undisciplined as mountain goats, who were added to her\nhousehold to undergo the process of taming, training, and educating ere\nthey were sent back.\n\nIn what she called her spare time she was engaged in the endless task\nof repairing and extending her forlorn little shanties. There was\nalways something on hand, and she worked as hard as the children,\nnailing up corrugated iron, sawing boards, cementing floors, or cutting\nbush. Jean, the ever-willing and cheerful, was practically in charge of\nthe house, keeping the babies, looking after their mothers, and\nteaching the little ones in the school. Up to this period she had never\nreceived more than her board, and \"Ma\" felt it was time to acknowledge\nher services, and she therefore began to pay her 1s. per week.\n\nNow and again in her letters there came the ominous words, \"I'm tired,\ntired.\" On the last night of the year she was sitting up writing. \"I'm\ntired,\" she said, \"and have a few things to do. My mother went home\neighteen years ago on the passage of the old year, so it is rather\nlonely to-night with so many memories. The bairns are all asleep. But\nHe hath not failed, and He is all-sufficient.\" She was often so wearied\nthat she could not sit up straight. She was too exhausted to take off\nher clothes and brush her hair until she had obtained what she called\nher \"first rest.\" Then she rose and finished her undressing. She would\nbegin a letter and not be able to finish it. The ladies nearest her,\nMiss Peacock and Miss Reid at Ikotobong, redoubled their attentions.\nMiss Reid she said was \"a bonnie lassie, tenderly kind to me.\" What\nMiss Peacock was to her no one but herself knew. She was a keen judge\nof character, though generous, almost extravagant in her appreciation\nof those she loved, and Miss Peacock has justified her estimate and her\npraise. \"Sterling as a Christian, splendid as a woman, whole-hearted as\na missionary, capable as a teacher, she is one after my own heart,\" she\nwrote. \"She is very good and kind to me, and a tower of strength. I am\nproud of her and the great work she is doing.\" Miss Peacock began the\nhabit about this time of cycling down on Saturday afternoons and\nspending a few hours with her, and Mary looked forward to these visits\nwith the greatest zest.\n\nThe friends at home were also ceaseless in their kindness. They\nscrutinised every letter she sent, and were frequently able to read\nbetween the lines and anticipate and supply her needs,--much to her\nsurprise. \"Have I been grumbling?\" she would enquire. \"You make me\nashamed. I am better off than thousands who give their money to support\nme.\" A carpet arrived. \"And oh,\" she writes, \"what a difference it has\nmade to our comfort. You have no idea of the transformation! The mud\nand cement were transformed at once into something as artistic as the\n'boards' of the bungalow, and the coziness was simply beyond belief. It\ndid not look a bit hot, and it was so soothing to the bare feet, and I\nneed not say it was a wonder to the natives, who can't understand a\nwhite man stepping on a cloth--and such a cloth!\" On another occasion a\nbed was sent out to her, and she wrote: \"I've been jumping my tired\nbody up and down on it just to get the beautiful swing, and to feel\nthat I am lying level. I'm tired and I'm happy and I'm half-ashamed at\nmy own luxury.\" And next morning, \"What a lovely sleep I've had!\"\n\nThe Macgregors made their first visit to Use in 1908, and on arrival\nfound \"Ma\" sitting with a morsel of infant in her lap. She was dressed\nin a print overall with low neck; it was tied at the middle with a\nsash, and she was without stockings or shoes. On the Sunday she set out\nearly on foot on her customary round, carrying two roasted corn-cobs as\nher day's rations, whilst Mr. Macgregor took the service at Ikotobong.\nHe was tired after his one effort, but when he returned in the evening\nhe discovered her preaching at Use Church-her tenth meeting for the\nday, and her tour had not been so extensive as usual. At six o'clock\nnext morning people had already arrived with palavers. One woman wanted\na husband. \"Ma\" looked at her with those shrewd eyes that read people\nthrough and through, and then began in Scots, \"It's bad eneuch being a\nmarriage registrar, without being a matrimonial agent forby. _Eke\nmi'o!_ Mr. Macgregor, send up any o' your laddies that's wanting\nwives.\" Then she went into Efik that made the woman wince, and pointed\nout that she had come to the wrong place.\n\nShe watched with interest the progress of the Creek stations, although\nthey were out of her hands. There were now at Okpo forty members in\nfull communion, and the contributions for the year amounted to \u00a348: 3:\n3. At Akani Obio, where there were forty-five members in full\ncommunion, the total contributions amounted to \u00a398: 11: 4. And at\nAsang, where there were one hundred and fifteen members, the\ncontributions amounted to \u00a3146: 68. At those three stations the total\nexpenses were fully met, and there was a large surplus. Where four\nyears ago there was no church member and no offering, there were now\ntwo hundred members, and contributions amounting in all to \u00a3287.\n\nSo the Kingdom of her Lord grew.\n\n\n\n\n                          XVI. \"THE PITY OF IT\"\n\nOne experience of 1908, when she was down at Duke Town attending the\nCouncil meetings, is worth noting. Though she liked the bush better she\nwas always interested in watching the movements there. \"It is a great\ncheer to me,\" she said, \"to meet all the young folks, and to be with\nthem in their enthusiasm and optimism, and this vast hive of industry,\nthe Hope Waddell Institution, with its swarm of young men and boys,\ngives me the highest hopes for the future of the Church and the nation\nnow in their infancy. Mr. Macgregor is a perfect Principal, sane, self-\nrestrained, and tactful, but I would not be in his place for millions.\"\nThe town was a very different place from that which she first saw in\n1876. It was now a flourishing seaport, with many fine streets and\nbuildings. The swamp had been drained. There was a fully-equipped\nnative hospital, and a magnificent church in the centre of the town,\nand the Europeans enjoyed most of the conveniences and even the\nluxuries of civilisation.\n\nOn this occasion an invitation came from the High Commissioner to dine\nat Government House, and meet a certain woman writer of books. She\nwould not hear of it. She had no clothes for such a function, and she\ndid not wish to be lionised. The Macgregors, with whom she was staying,\nadvised her to go; they thought it would do her good. She consented at\nlast, but when she left in a hammock, which had been specially sent for\nher, there was the light of battle in her eyes. Mr. Macgregor knew that\nlook and laughed; there was no doubt she was going to enjoy herself;\nshe had still the heart of a school-girl, and greatly loved a prank.\nWhen she returned, her face was full of mischief. \"Ay,\" she said, \"I\nmet your lady writer, and I made her greet four times and she gied me\nhalf a sovereign for my bairns!\"\n\nUnder the title of \"But yet the pity of it,\" the authoress gave an\naccount of the meeting in the _Morning Post_, in a way which excited\nlaughter and derision in the Calabar bush. It was in the pathetic\nstrain:\n\n\"I am not given to admiring missionary enterprise,\" she wrote. \"The\nenthusiasm which seems to so many magnificent seems to me but a\nmeddling in other people's business; the money that is poured out, so\nmuch bread and light and air and happiness filched from the smitten\nchildren at home.\n\n\"But this missionary conquered me if she did not convert me.\n\n\"She was a woman close on sixty, with a heavily-lined face, and a skin\nfrom which the freshness and bloom had long, long ago departed; but\nthere was fire in her old eyes still, tired though they looked; there\nwas sweetness and firmness about her lined mouth. Heaven knows who had\ndressed her. She wore a skimpy tweed skirt and a cheap nun's veiling\nblouse, and on her iron-grey hair was perched rakishly a forlorn broken\npicture-hat of faded green, chiffon with a knot of bright red ribbon to\ngive the bizarre touch of colour she had learned to admire among her\nsurroundings.\n\n\"'Ye'll excuse my hands,' she said, and she held them out.\n\n\"They were hardened and roughened by work, work in the past, and they\nwere just now bleeding from work finished but now; the skin of the\npalms was gone, the nails were worn to the quick; that they were\npainful there could be no doubt, but she only apologised for their\nappearance.\"\n\n\"Ma\" is thus made to tell the incident of the witness dying suddenly\nafter attending the court at Ikotobong:\n\n\"'If you put _mbiam_ on a man and he swears falsely he dies. Oh, he\ndoes. I ken it. I've seen it mysel'. There was a man brought up before\nme in the court and he was charged wi' stealing some plantains. He said\nhe had naught to do with them, so I put _mbiam_ on him, an' still he\nsaid he had naught to do wi' them, so I sent him down to Calabar. An'\nsee now. As he was going he stopped the policeman an' laid himself\ndown, because he was sick. An' he died. He died there. I put _mbiam_ on\nhim, an' he knew he had stolen them and died.'\n\n\"There was pity in her face for the man she had killed with his own\nlie, but only pity, no regret.\"\n\nSo well was she succeeding with her mystification that she went on to\ntalk of the hard lot of women and \"the puir bairns,\" and then comes the\nconclusion:\n\n\"'My time's been wasted. The puir bairns. They'd be better dead.'\n\n\"Her scarred hands fumbled with her dress, her tired eyes looked out\ninto the blazing tropical sunshine, her lips quivered as she summed up\nher life's work. 'Failed, failed,' she cried. All that she had hoped,\nall that she had prayed for, nothing for herself had she ever sought\nexcept the power to help these children, and she felt that she had not\nhelped them. They would be better dead....\n\n\"But the Commissioner did not think she had failed. Is the victory\nalways to the strong?\n\n\"'She has influence and weight,' he said 'she can go where no white man\ndare go. She can sway the people when we cannot sway them. Because of\nher they are not so hard on the twins and their mothers as they used to\nbe. No, she has not failed.'\"\n\nAnd so with a reference to Thermopylae, and the Coliseum and\nSmithfield, the lady litterateur places her in the ranks of the\nimmortal martyrs of the world.\n\n\n\n\n                       XVII. THE SETTLEMENT BEGUN\n\nThis was one of the waiting periods in Mary Slessor's life, which tried\nher patience and affected her spirits. The mist had fallen upon her\npath, and the direction was dim and uncertain. She had received what\nshe thought was a call from a distant region up-country, but if she\nsettled far away, what would become of her home for women and girls?\nShe had no clear leading, and she wished the way to be made so plain\nthat there could be no possibility of mistake. Friends were sending her\nmoney, and the Government were urging her to start the Settlement, and\npromising to take all the products that were grown. \"The District\nCommissioner was here to-day,\" she wrote. \"He wonders how he can help\nme, has had orders from the Governor to assist me in any way, but the\nPillar does not move. I have building material lying here, and have a\n\u00a310 note from a friend at home for any material I want, but there is no\nleading towards anything yet.... I am longing for an outlet, but I\ncan't move without guidance.\" She would not hurry--the matter was not\nin her hands. God, she was assured, was \"softly, softly,\" working\ntowards a natural solution, and as she was only His instrument, she\ncould afford to wait His time.\n\nOne night the mist on the path lifted a little, and next day she walked\nover the land at Use, and there and then fixed the site for the\nundertaking. There was ample room for all the cultivations that would\nbe required, and plenty of material for building and fencing, and good\nsurface water. Already she had three cottages built, including the one\nshe occupied, and these would make a beginning. She at once set about\nobtaining legal possession, and with the permission and help of\nGovernment she secured the land in the name of the girls. The Council\nagreed with her that it was most advisable to develop industries which\nthe people had not yet undertaken, such as basket-making, the weaving\nof cocoanut fibre, and cane and bamboo work. When asked if she would\nagree to remain at Use for one year to establish the Settlement and put\nit in working order with the assistance of one or two agents, she would\nnot commit herself. She rather shrank from the idea of a large\ninstitution; it ought, in her view, to begin in a simple and natural\nway by bringing in a few people, instructing them, and then getting\nthem to teach others. And there were other regions calling to her. When\nreminded that a large sum of money was on hand for the project, she\nsaid it was not all intended for this special purpose; much of it was\nfor extension; and she pointed to the needs of the region up the Cross\nRiver, stating that she was willing to have the funds used for\nproviding agents there.\n\nNothing more definite was decided, and meanwhile she went on quietly\nwith the beginnings of things. She planted fruit trees sent up by the\nGovernment,--mangoes, guavas, pawpaws, bananas, plantains, avocado\npears, as well as pineapples, and other produce, and began to think of\nrubber and cocoa. She also started to accumulate stock, though the\nleopards were a constant menace. She had even a cow, which she bought\nfrom a man to prevent him going to prison for debt--and often wished\nshe had not, for it caused infinite trouble, and the natives went in\nterror of it. Although it had a pail attached to it by a rope, it was\noften lost, and the whole town were out at nights searching for it. It\nwould run away with the whole household hanging on, and so little\nrespect did it pay to dignitaries, that on one occasion it ran off with\nthe Mother of the Mission and the Principal of the Hope Waddell\nInstitute, who had been pressed into the humble service of leading it\nhome. \"Ma Slessor's coo\" became quite famous in the Mission.\n\nIt was characteristic of her that she did not want her name to be put\nto anything, and she thought the Settlement should be called after Mrs.\nAnderson or Mrs. Goldie, who did so much for women and girls.\n\n\n\n\n                        XVIII. A SCOTTISH GUEST\n\nDuring the year 1909 she continued to fight a battle with ill-health.\nShe was compelled to give up much of her outdoor work, for an\noppressive sense of heart-weakness made her afraid to cross deep\nstreams and climb the hills. Sometimes she used her cycle, but only\nwhen she could obtain one of the girls or lads to run alongside and\nassist her up the ascents. Boils, an old enemy, tortured her again; she\nwas covered with them from head to foot, and was one mass of pain.\n\"Only sleeping draughts,\" she said, \"keep me from going off my head.\"\nAs the months went on she became feeble almost to fainting point, and\nhad given up hope of betterment. A note of sadness crept into her\nletters. \"I cannot write,\" she told a friend at home, \"but there is no\nchange in the heart's affection, except that it grows stronger and\nperhaps a little more wistful as the days go by and life gets more\nuncertain.\" She was anxious to recover sufficiently before March, to do\nhonour to two deputies who had been appointed by the home Church to\nvisit the Mission, and who were expected then, and if possible to\nreturn to Scotland with them. But she scarcely anticipated holding out\nso long. Jean, unfortunately, was not with her. It had been discovered\nthat she had long been suffering in silence from an internal complaint,\nand the medical men now advised an operation. \"Ma\" was opposed to this,\nand left her for a time at Duke Town for a change and treatment, which\ndid her much good.\n\nIt was sheer will-power that gained her a little strength to face the\nordeal of the official visit. She determined to make no change whatever\nin the course of her daily life, and she was afraid the deputies might\nnot find things to their liking and be disappointed. They were the Rev.\nJames Adamson, M.A., B.Sc., of Bonnington, Leith, and the Rev. John\nLindsay, M.A., Bathgate, who was accompanied by Mrs. Lindsay. They\nentered the Creek one market day, when it was crowded with canoes, and\nthe landing-beach--one for the missionaries had just been constructed\nat Okopedi--was swarming with people, amongst whom the arrival of the\nstrangers caused the greatest excitement. On bicycles the party\nproceeded uphill to Use. Mr. Adamson went on ahead, and at a spot where\na few rough steps were cut in the steep bank he saw a boy standing, He\ncalled out, \"Ma Slessor?\" The boy signed to Mm to come--it was a short\ncut to the house. Clambering up the bank and making his way through the\nbush, Mr. Adamson came upon a little native hut. Miss Slessor advanced\nto meet him. \"Come awa in, laddie, oot o' the heat,\" was her greeting.\nWhen the Lindsays arrived it was also her chief concern to get them\ninto the shade. Mr. Adamson was her guest, whilst the Lindsays went on\nto Ikotobong. His room--an erection built out from the house--had mud\nwalls and a mat roof, and was furnished with a camp-bed, a box for\ndressing-table and another for a washstand, and for company he had\nabundance of spiders and beetles and lizards. He proved a delightful\nguest. \"He is a dear laddie,\" wrote Mary; \"all the bairns are in love\nwith him, and so am I!\"\n\nWhile he was with her a woman came to the yard with twins. She had been\ndriven out of her house and town, and had come several miles to \"Ma\"\nfor shelter. Her husband and her father were with her--which denoted\nsome advance--and the three were crouched on the ground, a picture of\nmisery. The twins were lying in a basket and had not been touched. Mr.\nAdamson helped \"Ma\" to attend to them, and she felt as proud of him as\nof a son when she saw him sitting down beside the weeping mother and\ngently trying to comfort her. She gave the parents some food and a hut\nto sleep in, and made the man promise to stay until the morning.\nNeither would, however, look at the twins, and they were given over to\nthe girls.\n\nA service was held at which Mr. Lindsay was also present, and about a\nhundred people attended. \"Take our compliments to the people of your\ncountry,\" the latter said to the deputies, \"and tell them that our need\nis great, and that we are in darkness and waiting for the light.\" What\nastonished the natives was to see the white visitors standing up\ncourteously when spoken to by black men.\n\nFrom the meeting the party cycled to the little wattle-and-thatch Court\nHouse at Ikotobong, Miss Slessor being pushed by Dan up the hills. She\ntook her seat at the table in the simplest possible attire. Before her\nwas a tin of toffee, her only refreshment, with the exception of a cup\nof tea, during a long sitting. The jury, composed of the older and more\nresponsible men in the various villages, occupied a raised platform\nbehind. In front was a bamboo railing, which formed the dock; at the\nside another railing marked the witness-box. Several cases were heard,\nthe witnesses giving their evidence with volubility and abundant\ngesture, and the judge, jury, and clerk retiring to a little shed at\nthe back to discuss the verdicts. One was that of a man who, under the\ninfluence of trade gin, had hacked his wife with a machete, because she\nhad insulted his dignity by accidentally stumbling against him. Such a\ncase always aroused \"Ma's\" ire, and she wished a severe punishment\nawarded. The jury were very unwilling. The headman started by laying\ndown as a fundamental principle that men had a perfect right to do\nwhatever they liked with their wives; otherwise they would become\nunmanageable. But in deference to the white woman's peculiar views they\nwould go the length of admitting that perhaps the husband had gone a\nlittle too far in the use of his instrument. He had not done anything\nto merit a severe sentence, but in view of the prejudices of the\n\"Court,\" they would send him to prison for a short term.\n\nSuddenly the \"toot\" of the Government motor-car was heard, and in a\nmoment jury, witnesses, prisoners, and policemen rushed out of the\nbuilding to catch a glimpse of the \"new steamer\" that ran on the road.\nThen back they drifted, and the proceedings went on.\n\nMr. Adamson appreciated the service which Miss Slessor was\naccomplishing by her work in the Court. She told him she did not care\nfor it; \"the moral atmosphere of a native court is so bad,\" she\ndeclared, \"that I would never go near one were it not that I want the\npeople to get justice.\" But he saw the exceptional opportunity she\npossessed of dispensing gospel as well as law. \"As a rule,\" he says,\n\"her decision is accompanied by some sound words of Christian counsel.\"\nHe left Use with a profound admiration both for herself and Miss\nPeacock. \"Words,\" he wrote in the _Record_, \"cannot describe the value\nof the work that is being done by these heroic women.\"\n\nThere was no improvement in her health as the months went on, and\nanother severe illness caused by blood-poisoning shattered her nerves.\nThe Wilkies spared no labour or love to heal and strengthen her. \"Once\nmore,\" she wrote, \"I believe I owe my life to them.\"\n\nShe felt that the time had come to relinquish her court work, and\naccordingly in November she sent in her resignation. The Commissioner\nof the Eastern Province wrote in reply:\n\nDEAR MISS SLESSOR--I have been informed of your decision to resign the\nVice-Presidentship of the Ikotobong Native Court by the District\nCommissioner, Ikot Ekpene, which I note with great regret, and take\nthis opportunity of thanking you for the assistance you have in the\npast given the Government, and of expressing my deep appreciation of\nthe services you have rendered to the country during the period you\nhave held the office which you have now relinquished.--Believe me,\nYours very sincerely,\n\nW. FOSBERY.\n\n\nShe slipped out of the work very quietly, and was glad to be free of a\ntie which hindered her from moving onward on her King's more pressing\nbusiness.\n\n\n\n\n                        XIX. A MOTOR CAR ROMANCE\n\nThe Government motor car, which now ran up and down the road into the\ninterior, was the cause of several changes in the household of Use. In\ncharge of it at first was a white chauffeur, who, curiously enough, was\na member of Wellington Street Church in Glasgow, which now supported\nMiss Slessor, and with him was a native assistant, a young well-\neducated Anglican, who came from Lagos. When the car made its\nappearance Dan was so fascinated with it that he could scarcely keep\noff the road, and he now struck up an acquaintance with the native\ndriver, which brought him many a rapturous hour. \"Ma,\" who did not then\nknow the lad, was in terror for the safety of his body and his morals,\nand so despatched him as a pupil to the Institute at Duke Town to be\nunder the care of Mr. Macgregor. But David, the driver, had done more\nthan capture Dan; he had captured the heart of one of the girls--Mary.\nAnnie was already happily married, and she and her husband were\npreparing to join the Church; but Mary was not disposed to follow her\nexample, although she had two suitors, one in Okoyong, and one in\nIbibio. \"Why can't I stay at home with you?\" she said to \"Ma.\" \"I don't\nwant to go anywhere.\" But the Lagos lad succeeded where others had\nfailed, and \"Ma,\" giving her consent, they were married, before the\nDistrict Commissioner in Court. David went back to his work, and his\nwife to the Mission House, for \"Ma\" would not allow him to take her\nhome until the Church ceremony had been performed. Mr. Cruickshank\nappeared one day before he was expected, and before the wedding-gown\nwas quite ready, but a note was sent to David, and he cycled down in\nhis black suit. Miss Annie M'Minn, then at Ikotobong, came and dressed\nthe bride, the children put on white frocks, and there was a quaint and\npicturesque wedding.\n\nThere was also, of course, a breakfast. It was given in the verandah of\nthe hut. David was early on the scene arranging tables and forms, and\nMiss Peacock and Miss M'Minn laid and decorated them, a conspicuous\nobject being a bunch of heather from Scotland. Jean and the bride\ncooked the breakfast. By 11 o'clock the company had assembled. At the\nhead sat an aged Mohammedan in white robes and turban, a friend of\nDavid's family. A number of his co-religionists had come to the\ndistrict, and some even attended \"Ma's\" services. This particular man\ngreatly admired her. \"Only God can make you such a mother and helper to\neverybody,\" he had said at his first interview, and on leaving he had\ntaken her hand and bent over and kissed it, and with tears in his eyes\ninvoked a blessing upon her. Few expressions of respect from white men\nhad touched her more, though she was half-afraid her feeling was\nscarcely orthodox. Then came the bride and bridegroom and \"Ma's\" clerk.\nAt the next table sat another of David's friends--an interpreter--and a\nlad from the bride's house, headman on the road Department; David's\nnext-door neighbours, a man and his wife; and eight headmen over the\nroad labourers. Outside were the school children, who were fed by Jean\nwith Calabar chop, sweets, and biscuits.\n\nAfter the breakfast the Mohammedan came indoors to Miss Slessor and\nmade a speech. \"I knew David's mother before he was born,\" he said,\n\"and I praise God he was led here for a wife.\" David came forward,\n\"Mother,\" he said, \"you won't let us go without prayer?\" and down he\nknelt, and she committed the couple to God, A pie and cake, which the\nIkotobong ladies had baked, were presented, along with a motor cap,\nsilk handkerchief, ribbon, and scissors. One of \"Ma's\" presents was a\nsewing-machine. Then she walked down to see them off, supported in her\nweakness by the Mohammedan, When the pair arrived at their home, the\nlatter stood on the doorstep praying for them as they entered on their\nnew life. It was only a bamboo shanty run up by the Government, but it\nwas a home, and not, like all others, a room in a compound, and family\nworship was conducted in it in English. Good news came from it as time\nwent on. The bride was sometimes seen driving in the motor car. \"She\nwas here this morning,\" writes the house-mother, \"full of importance as\nshe passed to market. She had biscuits for the children, a new water-\njar and a bunch of fine bananas for me, and the whole house were round\nher full of questions and fun, and you would think she had become a\nheroine, just because she was married two months ago. She is very happy\nand proud of her husband.\" \"Ma\" watched over her with jealous care, and\nwhen in due time a baby arrived, she was as delighted as if it had been\nof her own blood.\n\n\n\n\n                            XX. STRUCK DOWN\n\nThe hot, dry season was always a trial to Miss Slessor; it shrivelled\nher up, and reduced her energy, and she panted for the cooling rains.\nThis year it affected her more than ever. The harmattan was like an\nEdinburgh \"haar,\" though it was not cold except between midnight and\ndaybreak; the air was thick with fine sand dust, and often she could\nnot see three yards away. She longed for a \"wee blink of home,\" and a\nhome Sabbath. \"But though the tears are coming at the thought, you are\nnot to think for one moment that I would take the offer if it were\ngiven me! A thousand times no! I feel too grateful to God for His\nwonderful condescension in letting me have the privilege of ministering\nto those around me here.\"\n\nHow the interest of the spiritual aspects of her work submerged the\nafflictions of her body was seen when the first baptismal service and\ncommunion at Use took place. With her dread of the spectacular she did\nnot make the event known, but the little native church was crowded, men\nand women squatting on the floor, and the mothers with babies on the\nverandah. Mr. Cruickshank conducted the service. Mary took a \"creepie\"\nstool--her mother's footstool of old--and sat down by the young\ncommunicants to help them and show them what to do. \"David,\" she wrote,\n\"had bought a bottle of wine for his wedding, but of course it was\nnever opened, and he said to me, 'Keep it, Ma, it may be useful yet.'\nSo it was drawn for our first communion well-watered. The glass sugar-\ndish on a teaplate was the baptismal font, but it was all transfigured\nand glorified by the Light which never shone on hill or lake or even on\nhuman face, and some of us saw the King in His beauty--and not far off.\nBear with me in my joy; this sounds small in comparison with home\nevents, but it is only a very short time since this place was dark and\ndegraded and drunken and besotted.\"\n\nThe glow and exaltation of the service lingered with her for weeks, and\nher letters are full of sprightliness and wit. She told of a visit from\nLady Egerton--\"a true woman\"--and of the Christmas gift from their\nExcellencies--a case of milk; and of the present of a new cycle sent\nfrom England from \"her old chief\" Mr. Partridge, to replace the old one\nwhich he thought must be worn out by this time. The wonders of aviation\nwere engrossing the world then, and she merrily imagined a descent upon\nher some afternoon of her friends from Scotland, and discussed the\ncapabilities of her tea-caddy.\n\nWell on into the next year she was busy with regular station work,\nteaching, training, preaching, building up the congregation, and acting\nas Mother to her people and to many more. Then in the midst of her\nstrenuous activity she was suddenly and swiftly struck down by what she\ntermed \"one of the funniest illnesses\" she ever had. The children were\nalarmed, and sent word to David. He informed the white officers, and\nthey rushed in a motor car down to Use and removed her to Itu, where\nshe was nursed back to life by Mrs. Robertson. \"I shall never forget\nthe kindness and the tenderness and the skill which have encompassed\nme, and I shall ever remember Dr. Robertson and his devoted wife, and\nask God to remember them for their goodness. Dr. Robertson brought me\nout of the valley of the shadows and when I was convalescent he lifted\nme up in his strong arms and took me to see the church and garden and\nanywhere I wished, just as he might have done to his own mother.\" Her\nfriends in Calabar also did everything they could for her, the Hon. Mr.\nBedwell, the Provincial Commissioner, sending up ice and English\nchicken and other delicacies in a special launch.\n\nThe little daughter of the missionaries was a source of great delight\nto her who loved all children. She was a very winsome girl, and had won\nthe hearts of the natives, who regarded her with not a little awe. She\nwas the only white child they had seen, and were not sure whether she\nwas not a spirit. \"Ma\" and she had good times together, playing and\nmake-believing. \"Maimie and I,\" she wrote, \"have been having the dolls\nout for a drive, and we have just given them their bread and milk and\nput them to bed!\"\n\nWhen she was convalescent the Macgregors insisted on her coming down to\nDuke Town for a change, and the Government placed the fast and\ncomfortable _Maple Leaf_ at their disposal. She protested, saying she\ncould not put herself on a brother and sister whose lives were so\nstrenuous, but they would take no refusal. They turned their dining-\nroom into a bedroom for her convenience, and here she talked and read\nthe newspapers and the latest new books and her Bible, and wrote long\nletters to her friends. \"I am doing nothing but eating,\" she told her\nchildren, \"and am growing fat and shedding my buttons all over the\nplace.\" But underneath all her gaiety and high spirits she felt\nprofoundly grateful for the wonderful goodness and mercy God had made\nto pass before her, and the perfect peace He had given her. \"Here I\nam,\" she said, \"being spoiled anew in an atmosphere not merely of\ntender love, but of literary and cultured Christian grace and\nwinsomeness, and it has been as perfect a fortnight as ever I spent.\"\nShe had literally to run away from the kind attentions of the\nGovernment officials and doctors, and a swift Government launch again\nconveyed her up-river. Jean, who had long since returned, had bravely\nheld the fort for the five Sabbaths she had been absent, and David and\nhis wife had been there to protect her, and the work, therefore, had\nbeen kept going.\n\nAfter each breakdown she seemed to feel that she must make up for lost\ntime, and she planned an advance towards Ikot Ekpene, being anxious to\nsecure that point and the intervening area for her church. On her\nbicycle she made a series of pioneer trips into the bush, here and\nthere selecting sites for schools, interviewing chiefs about twin-\nmothers, and generally preparing the way for further operations. About\ntwelve miles' distant, or half-way to Ikot Ekpene, where there was a\ncamp, she met some forty chiefs and arranged for ground for a school\nand the beginning of the work, and for a hut for herself at the back of\nthe native prison, where, she thought, she would have some influence\nover the warders. As she was never able to establish this station, its\nhistory may be rounded off here. Early in the year 1911 she brought the\nmatter before the Calabar Council, which agreed to build a house at\nIbiacu out of the extension fund, and later she went in a hammock to\ncomplete the arrangement, accompanied by Miss Welsh, who, as \"Ma\"\nphrased it, \"fitted into bush life like a glove,\" and who occupied and\ndeveloped the station. This young missionary lives alone, looks after\nthe children, has a clever pen and clever hands, and Is following very\nmuch on the lines of the great \"Ma.\" To the chagrin of the latter, Ikot\nEkpene was taken over by the Primitive Methodist Mission before she\ncould secure it, but she consoled herself with the thought that it did\nnot matter who did the Master's works so long as it done....\n\nThen her path, which had been so long hidden, cleared, and she saw it\nstretching out plain and straight before her.\n\n\n\n\n                              FIFTH PHASE\n\n                      l9l0-January 1915. Age 62-66.\n\n                              ONWARD STILL\n\n    \"_It is a dark and difficult land, and I am old and weak--but\n                                happy_.\"\n\n\n                          I. IN HEATHEN DEEPS\n\n\nThe new sphere to which Miss Slessor felt she was called, had been\noccupying her attention for some time. During one of the minor military\nexpeditions into the interior, the troops were suddenly attacked by a\ntribe who fled at the first experience of disciplined firing. A lad who\nhad been used by the soldiers was persuaded by some of their number to\nconduct them to the great White Mother for her advice and help. When\nthey appeared at Use, she and they talked long and earnestly, and they\nreturned consoled and hopeful. Some time afterwards the guide came down\non his own account, bringing a few other lads with him. Her influence\nwas such that they wished to become God-men, and they returned to begin\nthe first Christian movement in one of the most degraded regions of\nNigeria.\n\nShe knew nothing of the place save that it was away up in the north-\nwest, on one of the higher reaches of the Enyong Creek, and a two days'\njourney for her by water. The lads lived at a town called Ikpe, an old\nslave centre, that had been in league with Aro, and the focus of the\ntrade of a wide and populous area. It was a \"closed\" market, no Calabar\ntrader being allowed to enter.\n\nOn her return from Scotland the young men again appeared, saying that\nthere were forty others ready to become Christians, begging her to come\nup, and offering to send down a canoe. She disliked all water journeys,\nand even on the quiet creek was usually in a state of inward\ntrepidation. But nothing could separate her from her duty, and she\nresponded to the call. For eight hours she was paddled along the\nbeautiful windings of the Creek; then a huge hippopotamus was\nencountered, and frightened her into landing for the night on the\nIbibio side, where she put up in a wretched hut reeking with filth and\nmosquitoes. Here the Chief was reaching out for the Gospel, holding\nprayers in his house, and trying to keep Sabbath, though not a soul\ncould read, and the people were laughing at him. As the Creek made a\nbend she left the canoe and trudged through the bush to Ikpe. She found\nthe town larger and more prosperous than she had anticipated, with four\ndifferent races mingling in the market, but the darkness was terrible,\nand the wickedness shameless, even the children being foul-mouthed and\nabandoned. The younger and more progressive men gave her a warm\nwelcome, but the older chiefs were sulky--\"Poor old heathen souls,\" she\nremarked, \"they have good reason to be, with all they have to hope from\ntumbling down about their ears.\" The would-be Christians had begun to\nerect a small church, with two rooms for her at the end. That they were\nin earnest was proved by their attitude. She had eager and reverent\naudiences, and once, on going unexpectedly into a yard, she found two\nlads on their knees praying to the white man's God.\n\nShe made a survey of the district, and came to the conclusion that Ikpe\nwas another strategic point, the key to several different tribes, which\nit would be well to secure for the Church, and she made up her mind to\ncome and live in the two rooms, and work inland and backwards towards\nArochuku. There was the Settlement to consider, but that, she thought,\nshe could manage to carry on along with the occupation of Ikpe.\n\nHer bright and eager spirit did not reckon with the frailties of the\nbody. When she returned, she entered on a long period of weakness. Now\nand again deputations came down to her. Once a score of young men\nappeared, and before stating their business said, \"Let us pray.\" She\nmade another visit, saw the beginnings of the church at Ikpe, and\nanother at Nkanga on the Creek bank, three miles below Ikpe, and, what\naffected her more, heard rumours of a possible occupation by the Roman\nCatholics. \"I must come,\" she said to herself.\n\nOn one journey she was accompanied by Miss Peacock, who rose still more\nhighly in her regard on account of the resolute way in which she braved\nthe awful smells in the villages. On another, Mr. and Mrs. Macgregor\nshared the hardships of the trip with her. When these two arrived at\nthe landing-beach for Use, a note was put into their hands from \"Ma,\"\nto the effect that she had not been able to obtain a canoe, and they\nhad better come to the house until she saw what the Lord meant by it.\nThey remained at Use some days, \"Ma\" suffering from fever, but refusing\nto postpone the trip, saying that if she had faith she would be able to\ngo. They were to start early one morning, but her guests sought to keep\nher in sleep until it was too late. They succeeded until 1 A.M., when\nshe awoke, gave directions about packing, and rose. \"What do you think\nof her?\" they asked of Jean. \"She is often like that, and gets better\non the road,\" she replied, which was true. As \"Ma\" herself said, \"I\nbegin every day, almost every journey in pain, and in such tiredness\nthat I am sure I can't go on, and whenever I begin, the strength comes,\nand it increases.\"\n\nThe party left at 3.15 in the moonlight, and soon afterwards were in a\ncanoe. For hours they paddled, past men with two-pronged fish-spears\nfishing, by long stretches of water-lilies of dazzling whiteness, by\nfarms where the fresh green corn was beginning to sprout, by extensive\nreaches of jungle where brilliant birds flitted, and parrots chattered,\nand monkeys swung from branch to branch by a bridge of hands. They\nstopped for lunch, and Mr. Macgregor was interested in watching her\nmethods with the people. A chief wished to see the Principal, and said\nhe was anxious to place two more boys with him in the Institute. She\ntold Mr. Macgregor to say he would see him after they had eaten. The\nbusiness-like Principal thought this a waste of time, but she held that\nhe must not cheapen himself--if he made food of more importance than\nthe education of their boys they would think him dignified and respect\nhim. And she was right.\n\nBy and by they came to a tortuous channel as narrow as a mill-dam, and\nit was with difficulty that the canoe was punted through. They swept on\nunder trees, hung with orchids, where dragon-flies flashed in and out\nof the sunlight. This was the country of the hippos, and the banks were\nscored by their massive feet; it was also, as they found to their cost,\nthe haunt of ibots, a fly with a poisonous bite. After passing over a\nseries of shallows they reached Ikpe beach towards dark, and camped in\nthe unfinished church, \"Ma\" in the \"vestry,\" and the Macgregors inside\nthe building.\n\nMr. Macgregor had seen much of Nigeria, but he had never witnessed such\ndegradation as he found existing here. The girls went without any\nclothing, except a string of beads, and the married women wore only a\nnarrow strip of cloth. He had again a lesson in native manners. Paying\nceremonial visits to the chiefs, they sat and looked at the ground, and\nyawned repeatedly, and after a time left. To him the yawning seemed\nrude, but \"Ma\" said it was the correct thing, and when the chiefs\nreturned the calls he knew that, as usual, she was right.\n\nOne of the questions that the chiefs asked was, \"Is this the man you\nhave brought to stay and teach us?\" \"Ma\" turned to the Principal with a\nwry face. \"Well,\" she said in English, \"I like that. They'll need to be\ncontent wi' something less than a B.D. for a wee while--till they get\nstarted at any rate.\" She informed them who Mr. Macgregor was, and the\ngreat work he was doing in Calabar, and that in the goodness of his\nheart he had come up to see the position of things in the town.\n\n\"Ma\"--incredulously--\"do you mean that this is not the man who is to\ncome and lead us out of darkness?\"\n\n\"No, he is not the man-yet.\"\n\n\"Ma\"--reproachfully--\"you always say wait. We have waited two years,\nand again you come to us and say wait. When are you coming to us?\"\n\nThere was nothing for it but to put them off once more. But she\nimproved the occasion by extolling the Institute, with the result that\nwhen they left, two boys were taken to the canoe and consigned to Mr.\nMacgregor's care, one decently clad in a singlet and loin-cloth, and\nthe other with only a single bead hanging at the throat.\n\nMr. Macgregor went exploring on his own account, and came across a\nGovernment Rest House perched on the brow of a cliff, with a\nmagnificent view over the plain. Here he noticed that the people were\nparticularly opposed to white men. One of the villages \"Ma\" had\nlabelled \"dangerous,\" and he learnt that when the Court messengers\nappeared, they were promptly seized, beaten, and cast out. This, it is\ninteresting to note, came to be the scene of \"Ma's\" last exploits. He\nrejoined the ladies at Nkanga, where the little native church had been\ncompleted. They held the opening service. The Principal had no jacket;\nhis shirt was torn, his boots bore traces of the streams and mud\nthrough which he had passed. Miss Slessor wore the lightest of\ngarments. It was one of the strangest opening ceremonies in the history\nof Missions, but they worshipped God from the heart, and \"Ma\" seemed\nlifted out of herself, and to be inspired, as she told the people what\nthe church there in their midst meant, and the way they should use it\nfor their highest good.\n\nThe Macgregors left her at Arochuku, and she continued down-creek. She\nhad been upheld by her indomitable spirit throughout the journey, but\nnow collapsed, and was so ill that she had to spend the night in the\ncanoe. In the darkness she was awakened by one of the babies crying,\nbut was so weak that she could not move. The girls were sound asleep,\nand could not hear her. Exerting her willpower, she rolled over to the\nchild, whose head had become wedged between a box and the footboard of\nthe canoe, and was being slowly killed. In the early dawn the journey\nwas resumed to Okopedi beach, and thence she crawled over the weary\nmiles to Use.\n\n\n\n\n                            II. \"REAL LIFE\"\n\n\"I must go. I am in honour bound to go.\" It was her constant cry. She\nheard that services were being held regularly at Ikpe on Sundays and\nweek-days, and yet no one knew more than the merest rudiments of\nChristian truth; none could read. A teacher had gone from Asang, but he\nwas himself only at the stage of the first standard in the schools, and\ncould impart but the crudest instruction. They were groping for the\nlight, and worshipping what to most of them was still the Unknown God,\nand yet were already able to withstand persecution. The pathos of the\nsituation broke her down. \"Why,\" she cried, \"cannot the Church send two\nladies there? Why don't they use the money on hand for the purpose? If\nthe wherewithal should fail at the end of two years, let them take my\nsalary, I shall only be too glad to live on native food with my\nbairns.\"\n\nOnce more she went up, and once more she stood ashamed before their\nreproaches. She could not hold out any longer. \"I am coming,\" she said\ndecisively. She was not well--she was never well now--she had bad\nnights, was always \"tired out,\" \"too tired for anything,\" yet she went\nforward to the new life with unshakeable fortitude. In a short time she\nwas back with fifty sheets of corrugated iron and other material for\nthe house. \"I am committed now,\" she wrote. \"No more idleness for me. I\nam entering in the dark as to how and where and when. How I am to\nmanage I do not know, but my mind is at perfect peace about it, and I\nam not afraid. God will carry it through. The Pillar leads.\"\n\nShe did not care much for the situation that had been granted; it was\nlow-lying, and she was anxious to conserve her health for the work's\nsake, but she had faith that she would be taken care of. Palm trees\nbordered the site on three sides, and amidst these the monkeys loved to\nromp. \"These palms,\" she said, \"are my first joy in the morning when\nthe dawn comes up, pearly grey in the mist and fine rain, fresh and\ncool and beautiful.\" She lived in two rooms at the back of the church,\nwith a bit of ground fenced off for kitchen, and her furniture\nconsisted of a camp-bed and a few dishes. But she was chiefly out of\ndoors, for she had as many as two hundred and fifty people engaged in\ncutting bush, levelling, and stumping. Despite the discomfort and worry\nincidental to such conditions, she was quite happy. The natives as a\nwhole were hostile to white people; they wanted neither them nor their\nreligion; but there was nothing martial or predatory about \"Ma,\" and\nher very helplessness protected her. And there was that in her blood\nwhich made her face the conflict with zest; it always braced her to\nmeet the dark forces of hell, and conquer them with the simple power of\nthe Gospel.\n\nHer fearlessness was as marked as ever. One Sunday, during service,\nthere was an uproar in the market. She went out and found a mob\nfighting with sticks and swords, a woman bleeding, and her husband\nwounded and at bay. She seized the man's wrist and compelled quiet, and\nsoon settled the matter by palaver. On another occasion the Government\nsent native agents with police escort to vaccinate the people, as\nsmall-pox was rife. They resented the white man's \"juju,\" and there was\nmuch excitement. The conduct of the agents enraged the crowd, guns\nappeared, and bloodshed was imminent, when an appeal was made to \"Ma.\"\nShe succeeded in calming the rising passions, and in reassuring the\npeople as to the purpose of the inoculation. \"This poor frail woman,\"\nshe said, \"is the broken reed on which they lean. Isn't it strange? I'm\nglad anyhow that I'm of use in protecting the helpless.\" The people\nsaid if she would perform the operation they would agree, and she sent\nto Bende for lymph, and was busy for days. It was a difficult task, the\npeople were suspicious, and she had to banter and joke and coax when\nshe herself was at fainting point. Apart from this she doctored men and\nwomen for the worst diseases, nursed the sickly babies, and generally\nacted her old part of a \"mother in Israel.\"\n\n\"It is a real life I am living now,\" she wrote, \"not all preaching and\nholding meetings, but rather a life and an atmosphere which the people\ncan touch and live in and be made willing to believe in when the higher\ntruths are brought before them. In many things it is a most prosaic\nlife, dirt and dust and noise and silliness and sin in every form, but\nfull, too, of the kindliness and homeliness and dependence of children\nwho are not averse to be disciplined and taught, and who understand and\nlove just as we do. The excitements and surprises and novel situations\nwould not, however, need to be continuous, as they wear and fray the\nbody, and fret the spirit and rob one of sleep and restfulness of\nsoul.\"\n\nUse was still her headquarters, and she often traversed the long\nstretch of Creek, though the journey always left her terribly\nexhausted. On one occasion, when she had arrived at Use racked with\npain, she was asked how she could ever endure it. \"Oh,\" she said, \"I\njust had to take as big a dose of laudanum as I dared, and wrap myself\nup in a blanket, and lie in the bottom of the canoe all the time, and\nmanaged fine.\" She often met adventures by the way. Once, after\nthirteen hours in the canoe, she arrived at Okopedi beach late in the\nevening, along with Maggie and Whitie and a big boy baby. Stowing the\nbaggage in the beach house they started in the dark for Use, \"Ma\"\ncarrying a box with five fowls and some odds and ends, and Maggie, who\nwas ill, the baby. When they reached the house they found they had no\nmatches and were afraid of snakes, but she was so tired that she lay\ndown as she was on a bed piled high with clothes, the others on the\nfloor, the baby crying itself to sleep. At cock-crow fire was obtained\nfrom the village, and a cup of tea made her herself again, and ready\nfor the inevitable palavers. Again, she went up to Ikpe with supplies\nby night; the water had risen, she had to lie flat to escape the\noverhanging branches, and finally the canoe ran into a submerged tree\nand three of the paddle boys were pitched into the water. Not long\nafterwards she left Ikpe at 6.30 A.M., was in the canoe all night, and\nreached the landing-beach at 5.30 on Christmas morning with the usual\nmotherless baby.\n\nOn this occasion she received a message, \"Ekereki said I was to tell\nyou that his mother is asleep\"--referring to the death of one of the\nfirst members of the congregation, a gentle and superior woman for whom\nshe had a great regard. The wording of the message made her realise how\nsoon the Gospel had the power of changing even the language of a\npeople. Some time previously Annie's two-year-old boy had died, and the\nquestion of a Christian burial-place had been considered by the\ncongregation. Heathen adults were buried in the house and the children\nunder the doorstep. It seemed cruel to leave bodies out in the cold\nearth, but of their own volition the members secured a piece of ground\nand laid the child there; and now this woman was placed by his side,\nthe first adult to obtain a Christian burial in that part of Ibibio.\n\nOn New Year's eve she was down with fever, and was very weak, but, she\nwrote, \"My heart is singing all the time to Him Whose love and tender\nmercy crown all the days.\" In the middle of the night she was obliged\nto rise. \"My 'first-feet' were driver ants, thousands and thousands of\nthem, pouring in on every side, and dropping from the roof. We had two\nhours' hard work to clear them out.\"\n\n\n\n\n                      III. THE AUTOCRATIC DOCTOR\n\nReturning from Ikpe on one occasion in 1911, she found that a tornado\nhad played havoc with the Use house, and immediately set to, and with\nher own hands repaired it. The strain was too great for her enfeebled\nframe, and symptoms of heart weakness developed. She had nights of high\nfever and delirium, and yet so great was her power of will, that she\nwould rise next day and teach and work, while on Sundays she took the\nservices, although she was unable to stand. \"I had a grand day,\" she\nwould say, \"notwithstanding intense weakness.\"\n\nDr. Robertson of Itu had gone home on furlough, and there came to take\nhis place, Dr. Hitchcock, a young, eager, clear-headed man, as\nmasterful in his quiet way as \"Ma.\" He had proposed going to China in\nthe service of the Church, but agreed meanwhile to put in a year at\nItu. She watched him for a time with growing admiration, and saw the\ncuriosity of the natives turn rapidly to confidence, then to\nappreciation, then to blind devotion and worship. When she looked at\nthe great crowds flocking day after day to the dispensary and hospital,\nshe thought of the scene of old when the poor and the halt and the\nmaimed gathered round Christ. \"A rare man,\" she said, \"a rare\nChristian, a rare doctor. A physician for soul and body. I am beginning\nto love him like a son.\" And like a son he treated her. Although he had\nscarcely a minute to spare from his work, he ran up every second day to\nUse to study her. He believed that she was not being nourished. That\nthere were grounds for his suspicions her own diary records. There was\nmoney for her in Duke Town, she had often cheques lying beside her, but\nit was not always easy to obtain ready cash, and sometimes she ran\nshort. On June 14 she wrote:\n\n_Market Morning_.--Have only 3d. in cash in the house; sent it with 2\nIkpats (the first Efik schoolbook) and New Testament to buy food, and\nsold all 3 books for 6d. Got 5 small yams, oil, and shrimps, with\npepper and a few small fresh fish.\n\nIt was on the following morning as early as six o'clock that the doctor\ncalled to examine her again. His decision was that she was not to go to\nIkpe, she was not to cycle, she was to lie down as much as possible.\nShe laughed, and on the Sunday went to church and conducted two\nservices; but she almost collapsed, and when the doctor came next day\nhe ordered her to take to her bed, and not go to any more meetings\nuntil she obtained his permission. Mary had at last met her equal in\nresolution. \"He is very strict,\" she confessed, \"but he is a dear man.\nThank God for him.\"\n\nA trip to Ikpe which she had planned for the Macgregors had to be\ncancelled, and they decided to go to Use instead, and aid and abet the\ndoctor in his care of her. She got up to receive them, and then wrote,\n\"The doctor has sent me back to bed under a more stringent rule than\never. Very stern. I dare not rise.\" \"You must eat meat twice a day,\"\nthe doctor said. \"I'm not a meat eater, doctor,\" she rejoined. His\nreply was to send over a fowl from Itu with instructions as to its\ncooking. \"Why did you send that fowl, doctor?\" she asked next day,\n\"Because it could not come itself,\" was all the satisfaction she got.\nIt was not the first fowl that came from Itu--the next came cooked--\nwhile the Macgregors telegraphed to Duke Town for their entire stock.\n\"What a trouble you dear folk take,\" she sighed.\n\n\"You will have to go to Duke Town for a change,\" suggested the doctor\none day. \"Na, na,\" she replied; \"I've all my plans laid, and I cannot\ndraw a salary and not do what I can.\" \"You have done so well in the\npast,\" remarked Mr. Macgregor, \"that you need not have any qualms about\nthat.\" \"I've been paid for all I've done,\" was her retort. But the\ndoctor insisted, and the very thought of leaving the station and the\nhousehold work unattended to, put her in a fever. \"Of course,\" she\nsaid, \"to the doctor my health is the only thing, but I can't get rest\nfor body while my mind is torn about things. He is vexed, and I am\nvexed at vexing him.\"\n\nNot satisfied with the progress she was making, the doctor transferred\nher to Use, where she was under his constant observation. \"Life is\nhardly worth living,\" she complained, \"but I'm doing what I can to help\nhim to help me, so that I can be fit again for another spell of work.\"\nThat was her one desire, to be well enough to go back to the bush. A\nmessenger from Ikpe came down to find out when she was returning.\n\"Seven weeks,\" was the doctor's firm reply. \"I may run up sooner than\nthat,\" was hers. \"I'm quite well, if he would only believe it.\"\n\nBut it was well on towards the end of the year before she was, in her\nown words, out of the clutches of the \"dearest and cleverest and most\nautocratic Mission doctor that ever lived.\" She literally ran away, and\nwas up at Ikpe at once, exultant at having the privilege of ministering\nagain to the needs of the people. There was a throng at the beach to\nwelcome her. She was soon as busy as she had ever been, though she was\nusually carried now to and from church and other meetings. Jean she\nplaced at Nkanga as teacher and evangelist, the people giving her 1s.\nper week and her food, and \"Ma\" providing her clothes. It was\nastonishing to her to see how she had developed. An insatiable reader,\nshe would place a book open anywhere in order that she might obtain a\nglimpse of the words in passing, reminding \"Ma\" of her own device in\nthe Dundee weaving-shed. Her knowledge of the Bible was so thorough and\ncorrect that the latter considered her the best Efik teacher she knew.\nSoon she gathered about her some two hundred men and women from the\nupper Enyong farms, who were greatly pleased with her preaching. She\ncame over to Ikpe for Christmas, the first the household had spent in\nthat savage land, and there was a service in the church, which was\ndecorated with palms and wreaths of ferns. Mary told the story of\nBethlehem, and the scholar lads, of their own accord, marched through\nthe town singing hymns.... About this time Miss Slessor rendered\nimportant service to the Mission by her testimony before an Imperial\nGovernment Commission, which had been sent out to Investigate the\neffects of the import, sale, and consumption of alcoholic liquor in\nSouthern Nigeria. She provided very convincing evidence of the\ndemoralisation caused through drink, but with keen intuition she felt\nthat little would come of the \"palaver,\" and she was right.\n\n\n\n\n                      IV. GOD'S WONDERFUL PALAVER\n\nHer attitude to money was as unconventional as her attitude to most\nthings. It had no place in her interests; she never thought of it\nexcept as a means of helping her to carry out her projects. \"How I wish\nwe could do without it!\" she often used to say. \"I have no head for it,\nor for business.\" Her salary she counted as Church money, and never\nspent a penny of it on herself except for bare living, and until the\nlast years the girls received nothing but food and their clothes, \"You\nsay,\" she wrote to one giver, \"that you would like me to spend the\nmoney on my personal comfort. Dear friend, I need nothing. My every\nwant is met and supplied without my asking.\" Her belief was thus\nexpressed: \"What is money to God? The difficult thing is to make men\nand women. Money lies all about us in the world, and He can turn it on\nto our path as easily as He sends a shower of rain.\" Her faith was\njustified in a marvellous way, for throughout all these years and\nonwards to the end she obtained all she needed, and that was not\nlittle. She required funds for extension, for building, for furniture,\nfor teachers' wages, for medicines, for the schooling of her children,\nand many other purposes, and yet she was never in want. Nothing came\nfrom her people, for she would not accept collections at first, not\nwishing to give them the impression that the Gospel was in any way\nconnected with money. It came from friends, known and unknown, at home\nand abroad, who were interested in her and in her brave and lonely\nstruggle. There was scarcely a mail that did not bring her a cheque or\nbank-draft or Post-Office order. \"It often happens,\" she said once,\n\"that when the purse is empty, immediately comes a new instalment. God\nis superbly kind in the matter of money. I do not know how to thank\nHim. It is just wonderful how we ever fail in our trust for a moment.\"\nOn one occasion, when she was a little anxious, she cried, \"Shame on\nyou, Mary Slessor, after all you know of Him!\"\n\nHer attitude towards all this giving was one of curious detachment. She\nlooked upon herself as an instrument carrying out the wishes of the\npeople at home who supplied the means, and she gave them the honour of\nwhat was accomplished. Their gifts justified her going forward in the\nwork; each fresh \u00a310 note she took as a sign to advance another stage,\nso that, in one sense, she felt her Church was backing up her efforts.\nAs she regarded herself as being owned by the Church, all the money she\nreceived was devoted exclusively to its service; even donations from\noutside sources she would not use for personal needs. One day she\nreceived a letter from the Governor conveying to her, with the \"deep\nthanks of the Government,\" a gift of \u00a325 to herself, in recognition of\nher work. The letter she valued more than the money, which she would\nonly accept as a contribution towards her home for women. All the sums\nwere handed over to Mr. Wilkie or Mr. Macgregor, who banked them at\nDuke Town, and they formed a general fund upon which she drew when\nnecessary. She looked upon this fund as belonging to the Mission\nCouncil, to be used for extension purposes either up the Cross River or\nthe Enyong Creek, or for the Home for Women and Girls when the scheme\nmatured, and she never sought to have control of it. Mr. Wilkie was\nalways afraid that she was not just to herself, and she had sometimes\nto restrain him from sending more than she required. It was the same\nlater when Mr. Hart, C.A., had charge of the accounts. This explains\nwhy, on more than one occasion, she was reduced to borrowing or selling\nbooks in order to obtain food for herself and her household. There was\nmoney in abundance at Duke Town, but she would not ask it for private\nnecessities. Sometimes also she was so remote from civilisation that\nshe was unable to cash a cheque or draft in time to meet her wants.\n\nMany a hidden romance lay behind these gifts that came to her--the\nromance of love and sacrifice and devotion to Christ. One day there\narrived a sum of \u00a350, accompanied by a charming letter. Long she looked\nat both with wonder and tears. Her thoughts went back to the Edinburgh\ndays, when she was a girl, on the eve of leaving for Calabar. One of\nher friends then was a Biblewoman, who was very good to her. Always on\nher furloughs she had gone to see her in the humble home in which she\nlay an invalid, or as Mary expressed it, \"lingering at the gate of the\ncity.\" She thought she must now be dependent upon others, for she was\nold and frail. And yet here she had sent out \u00a350 to help on her work.\n\nIf there was romance in the giving, there was pathos in the spending.\nAcknowledging sums she was bidden expend upon herself, she would go\ninto detail as to her purchases--a new Efik Bible to replace her old\ntattered copy, the hire of three boys to carry her over the streams,\nseed coco yams for the girls' plots, a basin and ewer for her guest-\nroom--\"I can't,\" she said, \"ask visitors to wash in a pail,\"--a lamp,\nand so on. She sought to explain and extenuate the spending of every\npenny. \"Is that extravagant?\" \"Is that too selfish?\" she anxiously\nasked. After enumerating a number of things which she intended to buy\nfor Ikpe house, she said, \"Does that seem too prosaic? But it will\nclarify your views of Mission work, and make them more practical and\nreal, for, you see, the missionary cannot go about like Adam and Eve,\nand the natives must be taught cleanliness and order, and be civilised\nas well as Christianised.\"\n\nHer own small financial affairs had been in the hands of her old friend\nMr. Logic, Dundee, whose death in 1910 sent her into silence and\ndarkness for weeks. He had been like a father to her; to him, indeed,\nshe chiefly owed the realisation of her dream to be a missionary. She\ndid not know for a time how she stood, and as her purse was nearly\nempty, she was growing anxious, when a small amount arrived from a\nfriend, to whom she wrote: \"I have been praying for a fortnight for\nmoney to come from somewhere, as I have been living on 7s. given to the\nchildren by a merchant here who is a great friend of our household. So\nyour gift is a direct answer to prayer. '_Before they call I will\nanswer_.'\" She applied to Mr. Slight, another tried friend, who had\nbeen Treasurer of the United Presbyterian Church, and took a warm\npersonal interest in all the missionaries, and after the Union was the\naccountant of the United Free Church. He made matters simple and clear\nto her understanding and set her fears at rest--she had no debts of any\nkind save debts of gratitude. Mr. Slight's death in 1912 again made her\nfeel orphaned. \"I had no idea how much I leant on him till he was\nremoved, and it seems now that my last link with the old Church has\nsnapped. What he has done for me through a score of years I can never\nacknowledge warmly enough.\" In later years her affairs at home were\nmanaged by Miss Adam.\n\nCongregations continued to send her boxes of goods, whilst her own\nfriends were unceasing in their thought for her. \"I should never\nmention a want,\" she told them, \"because you just take it up and bear\nthe burden yourselves, and it makes me ashamed. Here are all my needs\nin clothing for the children and myself anticipated, and here are\nluxuries of food and good things, and all steeped and folded in the\nmost delicate and tender sympathy and love. Surely no one has so many\nmercies as I have.\" She saw few pretty things, and had never the\nopportunity of looking into a shop window, so that the arrival of these\nboxes was an occasion of much pleasurable excitement to her and to the\ngirls. Her only trouble was that she could not hand on some of the food\nto others; \"When you have a good thing, or read a good thing, or see a\nhumorous thing, and can't share it, it is worse than having to bear a\ntrial alone.\" She was particularly grateful for a box of Christmas\ngoods that came in 1911. She had been much upset by the local food, and\nshe ate nothing but shortbread and bun for a week, and that made her\nbetter!\n\nThe people about her, too, were kind. Women would bring her presents of\nproduce; one, for instance, gave her fifteen large yams and a half-\ncrown bag of rice, and a large quantity of shrimps. \"You are a stranger\nin these markets,\" she said, \"and the children may be hungry.\"\n\n\n\n\n                           V. WEAK BUT STRONG\n\nShe met with a severe disappointment early in 1912. The Calabar Council\nwas willing to send two ladies to Ikpe, but thought it right to obtain\na medical report on the site which had been given for the house. This\nwas unfavourable; the Creek overflowed its banks for four hundred paces\non one side and thirty on the other, and the surroundings of the house\nwould be muddy and damp. She would not, however, acquiesce in the\njudgment thus passed, and remained on, and prosecuted the work as\nusual. The Council was very anxious for her to take a furlough, and her\nfriends, personal and official, in Scotland were also urging her to\ncome for a rest. She had now never an hour of real health or strength,\nand was growing deaf, and felt like \"a spluttering candle,\" and she\nbegan to think it would be the wisest thing to do. As the idea took\ndefinite shape in her mind, she looked forward with zest to the renewal\nof old friendships. \"We shall have our fill of talk and the silences\nwhich are the music of friendship.\" The East Coast of Scotland was now\nbarred to her by medical opinion, but she had visions of the lonely\nhills of the south, and of Yarrow, and all that Border country where\nshe had spent so many happy days, and would go there, away from the\ncrowds and the rush.\n\nDiscerning a note of pity in the letters from Scotland, she bade her\nfriends not to waste their sympathy upon her. \"I am just surrounded\nwith love,\" she wrote. It was to the children she referred. \"I wake up\nin the early dusk of the dawn and call them, and before I can see to\ntake my Bible, the hot cup of tea is there, and a kiddie to kiss me\n'Good-morning' and ask, 'Ma, did you sleep?'\" It was not wonderful that\nshe loved those black girls. They had been with her from their birth.\nShe had nursed them and brought them up and taught them all they knew,\nand they had been faithful to her with the faithfulness which is one of\nthe most remarkable traits in the African nature. Mary could never\nabide the superior folk who referred slightingly to them because of\ntheir black skin, and she was too proud to justify her feelings towards\nthem. Alice, the \"princess,\" had now grown into a fine womanly girl,\nquiet and steady and thoughtful. One night in the dark she crept to\n\"Ma's\" side and shyly told her that some months before she had given\nher heart to Christ. It was a moment of rare joy. As neither Alice nor\nMaggie was betrothed-though often sought after-and they had no legal\nprotector against insult, she decided to send them for training to the\nEdgerley Memorial School, where they would be under the influence and\ncare of Miss Young, another capable agent whom she had led to become a\nmissionary and with whom she had a very close and tender friendship.\nShe regarded her as an ideal worker, for she had been thoroughly\ntrained in domestic science. \"I would have liked that sort of training\nbetter than the Normal training I got at Moray House,\" she said.\n\nMeanwhile, as she was forbidden to cycle, her thoughts harked back to\nher old plan of a \"box on wheels.\" She had never been reconciled to a\nhammock. \"I feel a brute in it, it seems so selfish to be lying there,\nwhile four boys sweat like beasts of burden. To push a little carriage\nis like skilled labour and no degradation.\" She, therefore, wrote to\nMiss Adam, whom she called the \"joint-pastor\" of her people, to send\nout a catalogue of \"these things.\" Miss Adam was, however, unwell, and\nthe ladles of Wellington Street Church, Glasgow, hearing of the\nrequest, promptly despatched what was called a Cape cart, a kind of\nbasket-chair, capable of being wheeled by two boys or girls. The gift\nsent her whole being thrilling with gratitude, as well as with shame\nfor being so unworthy of so much kindness, but her comfort was that it\nwas for God's work, and she took it as from Him.\n\nThe vehicle proved a success, but the success proved the undoing of her\nfurlough. \"Instead of going home as I had planned, in order to get\nstrength for a wider range of work, I shall stay on and enjoy the\nprivilege of going over ground impossible for my poor limbs.\" On one of\nthe first drives she had, she went in search of a site for a new and\nlarger church which she had determined to build., and was gathering\nmaterial for, at Use, and then she planned to go to Ikpe via Ikot\nEkpene by the new Government road, opening up out-stations wherever she\ncould get a village to listen to the message. Her aim, indeed, was\nnothing less than to plant the whole Ibibio territory with a network of\nschools and churches. She seemed to grow more wonderful the older and\nfrailer she became.\n\nThe spurt lasted for a time, but again the terrible weakness troubled\nher, and she had to conduct household affairs from a couch. School work\nwas carried through on the verandah, and when she spoke in the church\nshe was borne there and back. She came to see that only a real change\nwould do her permanent good, and that it would be true economy to take\na trip home, even for the sake of the voyage, which, much as she feared\nthe sea, always invigorated her. What made her hesitate now was the\ndepleted condition of the Mission. \"We were never so short-handed\nbefore,\" she said, \"and I can do what others cannot do, what, indeed,\nmedical opinion would not allow them to try. No one meddles with me,\nand I can slip along and do my work with less expenditure of strength\nthan any,\" Had there been some one to fill her place she would have\ngone, but she was very reluctant to shut the doors of the stations for\nso long a period. How she regarded the idea may be gathered from a\nletter to a friend who had given her some domestic news:--\n\nThese little glimpses, like pictures, of home and the old country, of\nfamily ties and love, make me long for just one long summer day in the\nmidst, if only as an onlooker, and for the touch of loving hands and a\nbit of family worship in our own tongue, and maybe a Sabbath service\nthrown in with a psalm and an old-fashioned tune, and then I should\nfeel ready for a long spell of work. But I should fret if it were to\ntake me from this, my own real life and home and bairns. This life is\nfull, the other lies at the back quiescent, and is a precious\npossession to muse on during the night or in the long evening hours\nwhen I'm too tired to sleep and the light is not good enough to read or\nsew, or mostly when I'm not well and the doldrums come very near. But I\nshould choose this life if I had to begin again; only I should try to\nlive it to better purpose.\n\nAnother respite or two carried her into the middle of the year, when\nher opportunity of a furlough was lost. She said she would have to hold\non now for another winter--or go up higher. In September she completed\nthirty-six years as a missionary, and took humorous stock of herself:\n\"I'm lame and feeble and foolish; the wrinkles are wonderful-no\nconcertina is so wonderfully folded and convulated. I'm a wee, wee\nwifie, verra little buikit--but I grip on well, none the less.\" \"Ay,\"\nsaid an old doctor friend to her, \"you are a strong woman, 'Ma.' You\nought to have been dead by ordinary rule long ago--any one else would.\"\n\n\n\n\n                         VI. HER FIRST HOLIDAY\n\nAnxiety as to her health deepened both in Calabar and Scotland, and\npressure was brought upon her to take a rest. One of her lady friends\non the Women's Foreign Mission Committee, Miss Cook, appreciated her\nfear of the home winter, and wrote asking her to take a holiday to the\nCanary Islands, and begged the kindness at her hands of being allowed\nto pay the expense. \"I believe,\" she said, \"in taking care of the\nLord's servant. I am afraid you do not fully realise how valuable you\nare to us all, the Church at home, and the Church In Nigeria.\" The\noffer, so delicately put, brought tears to Mary's eyes, and it made her\nwonder whether after all she was safeguarding her health enough in the\ninterests of the Church. As soon as the matter became a duty, she gave\nit careful consideration, resolving to abstain from going up to Ikpe,\nand to go down to Duke Town instead, where she would consult the\nWilkies and the Macgregors. But she would not dream of the cost of any\nchange being borne by Miss Cook, and she asked Miss Adam to find out if\nher funds would allow of her taking a trip. There was no difficulty\nregarding clothing. Among the Mission boxes she had received was one\nfull of warm material, and she surmised that God was on the side of a\nholiday.\n\nHer friends at Calabar did not hesitate a moment; they wanted her off\nat once. She went to consult her old friend, Dr. Adam, the senior\nmedical officer, that \"burning and shining light,\" as she called him,\nwho first showed her through the Hospital, where she spoke with loving\nentreaty to every patient she passed, and left many in tears. After a\nthorough examination, he earnestly besought her to take the next boat\nto Grand Canary. Still she shrank from the prospect. It was a selfish\nthing to do; there were others more in need of a holiday than she, it\nwas a piece of extravagance, it would involve closing up the stations.\nAnd yet might it not be meant? Might it not be of the nature of a good\ninvestment? Might she not be able for better work? Might it not do away\nwith the necessity for a furlough in the following year? She decided to\ngo.\n\nIt was arranged that Jean should accompany her, and that she should put\nup at the Hotel Santa Catalina, Las Palmas. Letters from Government\nofficials were sent to smooth the way there for her. Miss Young and\nothers prepared her outfit, and made her, as she said, \"wise-like and\ndecent,\"--she, the while, holding daily receptions, for she was now\nregarded as one of the West African sights, and every one came to call\nupon her. Mr. Wilkie managed the financial side, and gave the cash-box\nto the Captain. When she transhipped at Forcados. it was handed to the\nother Captain, and he on arrival at the Islands passed it on to the\nmanager of the hotel. On board she was carried up and down to meals,\nand received the utmost kindness from officers and passengers alike.\nThe Captain said he was prouder to have shaken hands with her than if\nshe had been King George. The season at Grand Canary had not begun,\nand there were very few visitors at the hotel. Those who were there saw\na frail nervous old lady, followed by a black girl who was too shy to\nraise her eyes. \"We were certainly a frightened pair,\" Mary afterwards\nconfessed. But the management attended to her as if she were a\nprincess. \"What love is wrapped round me!\" she wrote. \"All are kind,--\nthe manager's family, the doctor's family, and the visitors. It is\nsimply wonderful. I can't say anything else.\"\n\nThe first days were spent in the grounds, drinking in the pure air,\nwatching the changing sea and sky, and admiring the brilliant\nvegetation. The English flowers, roses and geraniums and Michaelmas\ndaisies and mignonette, were a continual joy, whilst the crimson clouds\npiled above the sapphire sea often made her think of the \"city of pure\ngold.\" Later, she was able to ascend the hill at the back, and \"there\"\nshe says, \"I sat and knitted and crocheted and sewed and worked through\nthe Bible all the day long, fanned by the sea-breeze and warmed by the\nsun, and the good housekeeper sent up lunch and tea to save my walking,\nand in the silence and beauty and peace I communed with God. He is so\nnear and so dear. Oh, if I only get another day in which to work! I\nhope it will be more full of earnestness and blessing than the past.\"\n\nIt was her first real holiday, but she felt it had been worth waiting a\nlifetime for. There was something infinitely pathetic in her ecstasy of\nenjoyment and the gratitude for the simple pleasures that came to her.\nOnly one thread of anxiety ran through her days, the thought of the\nappalling expense she was incurring, for she had made up her mind that\nthe cost was to be paid out of her own slender funds.\n\nA lady in the hotel, with whom she formed an intimate and lasting\nfriendship, and who saw much of her, gives this impression of her\ncharacter:\n\nShe made many friends, her loving sympathy, her simplicity, her keen\ninterest in all around her, her sense of humour and love of fun\nendearing her to all. The entire negation of self which she evinced was\nremarkable, as well as her childlike faith and devotion to her Master\nand to His service. A lady was heard to say, \"Well, after talking to\nMiss Slessor I am converted to foreign missions,\" Her mind was ever\nupon her work and her children, and she used often to say she was\nidling, there was so much to be done, and so little time in which to do\nit. Of all the people I have met she impressed me the most as the\nperfect embodiment of the Christian life,\n\nJean waited upon her mother-mistress with a patient and thoughtful\ndevotion which was a wonder to those who saw it. She wore her Calabar\nfrock and bandana, and had she not been a very sane person, her head\nwould have been turned, for she was a favourite with every one, and was\ngiven as many ribbons as would serve her all her life. But she was as\nshy the day she left as when she arrived.\n\nThe departure came in the middle of the night. A general and his aide-\nde-camp and a merchant each offered to convoy her to the ship, and\npleaded that they had conveyances, but the manager of the hotel would\nnot hear of it, saw her himself safely into her cabin, and placed the\ncash-box once more into the Captain's hands. It was the same steamer by\nwhich she had travelled to the Islands, so that she felt at home. On\nboard also was Dr. Hitchcock, on his way out again to take up work at\nUburu, a large market town in the far north amongst a strangely\ninteresting tribe. How she envied him, young and strong and\nenthusiastic, entering on such glorious pioneer work! At Accra the\nGovernor of the Gold Coast, a stranger to her, sent off to the steamer\na bouquet of flowers, with an expression of his homage and best wishes\nfor a renewal of her health.\n\nWhen she arrived at Duke Town Dr. Adam again examined her, assisted by\nProfessor Leiper of the London School of Tropical Medicine, and the\nverdict was: \"Good for many years-if you only take care.\"\n\nShe was given written directions as to the care of her health, and\nthese she regarded with a rueful face. \"Life will hardly be worth\nliving now,\" she said. \"But for the work's sake I must obey. God wants\nus to be efficient, and we cannot be so except by living decently and\ntaking care of the wonderful body He has given us.\"\n\nShe turned up her Bible and found the verse she had marked as a\n\"promise\" before leaving: \"_But if the Spirit of Him that raised up\nJesus from the dead dwell in you, He that raised up Christ from the\ndead shall also quicken your mortal bodies by the spirit that dwelleth\nin you_.\" She saw now that this meant something besides the\nResurrection, for the voyage, the climate, the food, and the rest had\nworked in her a miracle, and she realised more than ever what prayer\nand faith could do for the body as well as for the spirit. There was a\nlesson in it, too, she thought, for the Church. She had had a month at\nsea, and a month in the Islands, with the best of care and food, and no\nfurlough had ever done her more good. She felt that a visit to Scotland\nwould not have rested her so much. There was the bustle and excitement\nand movement and speaking-of all the bugbears of a furlough, she said,\nspeaking at meetings was the chief. If only the hard deputy work at\nhome could be eliminated from the missionaries' programme, they would\nhave a happier and a better time. But here the personal equation\nobscured her judgment. For to abandon the system would be to do away\nwith the intimate touch and association by which interest in the\nMission Field is so largely maintained. To many missionaries, also, the\nduty of telling to the congregations up and down the country the story\nof their work is one of the chief pleasures of their furlough.\n\nLaden with chemical foods, medicines, and advice, she returned to Use\nto find that the entire cost of the trip had been defrayed by Miss\nCook, who wrote: \"I am only sorry that I did not beg you to stay longer\nin order to reap more benefit. Come home next year; we all want to see\nyou.\"\n\n\n\n\n                              VII. INJURED\n\nBut a furlough home was far from her thoughts. She rejoiced in her new\nstrength, and set herself with grim determination to redeem the time.\nShe was now doing double work, carrying on all the activities of the\nsettled station at Use, and establishing her pioneer centre at Ikpe.\nDuring the next two years she travelled between the two points,\nsometimes using the canoe, but more often now the Government motor car,\nwhich ran round by Ikot Ekpene and dropped her at the terminus, five\nmiles from Ikpe. David was the driver, and she had thus always the\nopportunity of seeing Mary, his wife, who lived at Ikot Ekpene.\n\nAt Use the work had gone on as usual; there had been no backsliding,\nand the services and classes had been kept up by the people themselves;\nand she proceeded with the building of the new church, which was\nerected under her superintendence and without any outside help. When\nshe was at Ikpe she placed Annie's husband--they were both now members\nof the Church--in charge, and he conducted the services, but Miss\nPeacock, whom Mary styled her \"Bishop,\" gave general supervision.\n\nOn one of her early journeys up to Ikpe she met with a slight accident,\na pellet of mud striking one of her eyes. The people were alarmed at\nthe result, and would have gone off at once to the District\nCommissioner had she not restrained them. Some native workmen passing\nhis station later mentioned the incident, and within a few minutes the\nofficer had a mounted messenger speeding along the tract to Ikpe, with\nan urgent order to the people to get her conveyed in the Cape cart to\nthe nearest point on the road, where he would have a motor car waiting.\nNext morning, although it was market day, the members of the church\nleft everything and took her to the spot indicated. Here were the\nDistrict Commissioner and a doctor, with eye-shade and medicine and\nevery comfort, and with the utmost despatch she was taken round the\nGovernment road to Use. The hurt was followed by erysipelas, and she\nwas blind for a fortnight and suffered acute pain and heavy fever; but\nvery shame at being ill after so fine a holiday made her get up\nalthough the eye was swollen and \"sulky,\" and she was soon in the midst\nof her work at Ikpe as if nothing had happened.\n\nBuilding, cementing, painting, varnishing, teaching, healing, and\npreaching filled in the days. A visitor found her once at 10 A.M.\nfinishing school in a shed. She continued it in the afternoon. Then she\nvisited the yards of the people, and they crowded round her and brought\nher gifts of food. Later she leant against a fallen tree trunk and\ntalked to one and another. In the gathering dusk she sat on a small\nstool and attended to the sick and dressed their sores. After dinner\nsome men and lads arrived carrying lamps, and she held her catechumens'\nclass--a very earnest and prayerful gathering.\n\nThe burden of the untouched region around her vexed her mind. Sometimes\nshe was depressed about it all, and said she would need to fill her\nletters with nonsense, for \"it would not bear writing.\" Time and again\nshe sought to impress her friends with the needs of the situation: \"The\nlast time I was at school I counted eight hundred women and girls\nrunning past in eager competition to secure the best places at the\nfishing-grounds where the men had been working all the morning, and\nthese are but a fraction of our womankind. But what can I do with\nsupervision of the school and church and dispensary and household?\" She\ndid not pretend that she worked her station properly, and she pointed\nout how necessary settled, steady, persevering teaching was. \"These\ninfant churches,\" she said, \"need so much to be instructed. The adults\nare illiterate, and the young need systematic teaching of the Bible.\nThey are an emotional people, and are fain to keep to speaking and\nsinging and long prayers, and the sterner practical side of\nChristianity is set aside. They are children in everything that\nmatters, and when we have led them to Christ we are apt to forget how\nmuch more they need in order to make a strong, upright, ethical\ncharacter on which to build a nation. Then we need a literature, and\nthis, too, is the work of the Church. What ails it? _Is it not\nforgetting that God can't give His best till we have given ours?\"_\n\nWith all its bustle it was a very lonely and isolated life she led.\nThere was no mail delivery, and she had to depend mainly on the\nkindness of Government officials to forward her correspondence. \"I have\nbeen here seven weeks,\" she wrote on one occasion, \"without one scrap\nfrom the outside--letter or paper--nothing to read but the old\nadvertisement sheets of papers lining the press and the boxes. If you\nwish for the names of hotels or boarding-houses In any part of Europe--\nsend to me. I have them all on my tongue's end.\" It was a red-letter\nday when a stray white visitor entered the district, for there would be\ntea and a talk, and a bundle of newspapers would be left--one never\nforgets another in this way in the bush. She was amused to receive a\nnote from Scotland asking her to hand on a message to Dr. Hitchcock at\nUburu. \"Do you know?\" she replied, \"you are nearer him than I am--the\nquickest way for me to send it is via Britain!\"\n\nLife was not without its menace from wild beasts, the forest being full\nof them, and the doors had always to be closed and fastened at night to\nkeep them out. Snakes were prevalent, and prowled about the building,\nand many a fight Jean and the others had with the intruders.\n\n\n\n\n                    VIII. FRIENDSHIPS WITH OFFICIALS\n\nThroughout these years, as always, \"Ma\" Slessor's relations with the\nGovernment officials were of the most friendly nature, It was\nremarkable that although she was essentially feminine and religious,\nand although she was engaged in Mission work, she attracted men of all\ntypes of character. Much of this power was due to her intense sympathy,\nwhich enabled her to get close to minds that would otherwise have been\nshut to her. What she wrote of another applies to herself:\n\nWhat a strange thing is sympathy! Undefinable, untranslatable, and yet\nthe most real thing and the greatest power in human life! How strangely\nour souls leap out to some other soul without our choosing or knowing\nthe why. The man or woman who has this subtle gift of sympathy and\nmagnetism of soul possesses the most precious thing on earth. Hence it\nis rare. So few could be trusted with such a delicate, sensitive,\nGodlike power and hold it unsullied that God seems to be hampered for\nwant of means for its expression. Is that the reason that He made His\nSon a \"Man of Sorrows and acquainted with grief\"?\n\nMost of these men had no interest in missions, and some did not believe\nin them. \"The more I see of mission work in West Africa the less I like\nit,\" said one frankly to her. \"Give me the genuine bushman, who\nrespects his ancestral deities and his chief and himself.... But if all\nmissionaries were like you!\" None of these men belonged to her own\nChurch; three of her favourites were Roman Catholics. Her introductions\nto some were of the most informal character. One day a stranger\nappeared and found her busy on the roof of the house. \"Well,\" she said,\neyeing him critically, \"what do you want?\" He stood, hat in hand.\n\"Please, Ma'am,\" he replied meekly, \"I'm your new District\nCommissioner--but I can't help it!\" She was delighted, and took him\ninto the inner circle at once. As frequent changes took place in the\nstaff, the number whose acquaintance she made gradually increased,\nuntil she became known and talked of in all the colonies on the West\nCoast and even in other parts of the world.\n\nThe official view of her work and character differed little from any\nother. Says one who knew her long and well:\n\nI suppose that a pluckier woman has rarely existed. Her life-work she\ncarried out with immeasurable courage and capacity. Her strength of\ncharacter was extraordinary, and her life was one of absolute\nunselfishness. She commanded the respect and confidence of all parties,\nand for years I would have personally trusted to her judgment on native\nmatters in preference to all others. Shrewd, quick-witted, sympathetic,\nyet down on any one who presumed, she would with wonderful patience\nhear all sides equally. Her judgment was prompt, sometimes severe, but\nalways just. She would speak much of her work to those who, she knew,\ntook an interest in it, but very rarely of herself.\n\nAnother writes:\n\nMy first impression of her was that she was a lady of great strength of\nmind and sound common sense. Also that for one who had lived so many\nyears in the bush wilds she was very well read and up-to-date on all\nsubjects.\n\nMr. T. D. Maxwell, who knew her in Okoyong days and to the end, says:\n\nI am sure that her own Church never had a more loyal adherent, but her\noutlook on this life--and the next--was never narrow. Her religion was\nabove religions--certainly above religious differences, I have often\nheard her speak of the faiths and rituals of others, but never without\nthe deepest interest and sympathy. She was young to the end; young in\nher enthusiasm, her sympathy, her boundless energy, her never-failing\nsense of humour, her gift of repartee, her ability always to strike the\napt--even the corrosive--epithet. A visit to her was, to use one of her\nown phrases, \"like a breath o' caller air to a weary body\"--and in West\nAfrica that means incomparably more than it can at Home.\n\nIt was a peculiarly affectionate relation that existed between her and\nmany of those men whom she regarded as \"the strength and the glory of\nBritain.\" A witty member of the Mission once said they were given over\nto \"Mariolatry\"--an allusion to her first name. They never were near\nwithout visiting her, and often made long journeys for the privilege of\na talk. They were delighted with her sense of humour, and teased her as\nwell as lionised her. Half the fun of a visit to her was taking her\nunawares, and they often threatened to bring their cameras and\n\"snapshot\" her on sight, \"Ma,\" they would write before calling, \"get\nyour shoes on, we are coming to tea!\"\n\nThey wrote her about their work and ambitions and worries as if she\nwere a mother or sister, and discussed the political and racial\nproblems of the country as if she were a colleague, always with a\ndelicate deference to her experience and knowledge, sometimes veiled in\nlight banter. \"I am at your feet, Ma,\" said one, \"and your wisdom is\nthat of Solomon.\" They often twitted her about being able to twist them\nround her little finger: \"You break our hearts, and get your own way\nshockingly.\" On one occasion she received a grave and formal Government\ntypewritten communication about land, which ended in this way:\n\n                  I have the honour to be,\n                   Madam,\n\n\n                   _and affectionate_\n                  Your obedient servant.\n\n\nWhen they left the Colony they kept up the friendship. Many were bad\ncorrespondents, yet from the remotest parts of the world they wrote\nletters, as long as her own, full of kind enquiries about her work and\nthe bairns, and begging for a reply.\n\nOn her part she wrote them racy and informative letters; and she also\ngot into touch with their mothers, sisters, and wives at home, who\nwelcomed her news of the absent ones, and were good to her in turn. One\nlady she delighted by praising her husband. \"Naturally,\" the lady\nreplied, \"I agree with you, and you are welcome to court and woo him as\nmuch as you like!\" A high official brought out his wife, and she wrote\nMary from a desire to make her husband's friends hers also. She ended\nin the usual way, but he added, \"She sends her kindest regards--_I_\nsend my love!\" The nature of some of the friendships formed at home\nthrough officials may be surmised from an order she gave for a silver\ngift, value \u00a35, to be sent to the first-born child of one of her\n\"chums.\" It went to the mother, and the inscription was \"From one whom\nhis father has helped.\"\n\nVery notable was the kindness shown by the Government to her as woman\nand missionary. Instructions were issued that she was to be allowed to\nuse any and every conveyance belonging to them in the Colony, on any\nroad or river, and that every help was to be afforded to her. Workmen\nwere lent to her to execute repairs on her houses. Individual members\nsought opportunities to be kind to her. She was taken her first motor-\ncar drive by a Commissioner. The highest officials did not think it\nbeneath them to buy feeding-bottles and forward them on by express\nmessenger. They sent her gifts of books, magazines, and papers--one\nforwarded _The Times_ for years--and at Christmas there would come plum\npuddings, crackers, and sweets. One dark, showery night the Governor of\nSouthern Nigeria, Sir W. Egerton, and several officials appeared at her\nhouse to greet her, and left a case of milk, two cakes, and boxes of\nchocolates and crystallised fruit. \"The Governor is a Scotsman,\" she\nwrote, \"and must be sympathetic to mission work, or else why did he\ncome with his retinue and all to a mud house and see me at that cost to\nhis comfort and time on a wet night?\" Lord Egerton was charmed with\nher. Replying to some remark of his she said, \"Hoots, my dear laddie--I\nmean Sir!\"\n\nIt was the great anxiety of her official friends that she should not\noutlive her powers: her influence generally was so great that to them\nthe thought of this was distressing. They were always very solicitous\nabout her health, writing to her frequently to say that she should take\nlife more easily, \"Take care of yourself, Ma--as much as you can.\"\n\"Don't be so ridiculously unselfish.\" \"Learn a little selfishness--it\nwill do you all the good in the world,\" was the advice showered upon\nher. When she had the Court work she was often urged to take a month's\nholiday. On hearing of her intention to go to Ikpe one wrote, \"Dear\nLady, I hate the idea of your going so far into the bush. Don't go.\nThere are plenty of men willing and eager to be of service to you, but\naway up there you are far away from help or care.\" Another warned her\nagainst the people; \"But,\" he added, \"we know you will go in spite of\nit--and conquer!\"\n\nLatterly they became more importunate. \"Do be careful,\" one wrote. \"Do\ntake quinine and sleep under a net and drink filtered water.\" Her\ncustom of going hatless into the blazing sunshine was long a sore\npoint, and when they failed to persuade her of the danger, they\nresorted to scheming. \"We know why you do it,\" they said artfully. \"You\nknow you have pretty hair and like to display it uncovered, imagining\nthat it gets its golden glint from the sun. Oh, vanity of vanities!\nFancy a nice, quiet missionary being so vain!\" Certainly no argument\ncould have sent her more quickly to the milliner's.\n\n\n\n\n                        IX. POWER THROUGH PRAYER\n\nThe power which enabled Mary Slessor to live so intensely, to triumph\nover physical weakness, and to face the dangers of the African bush,\nand gave her the magnetic personality that captivated the hearts of\nwhite and black alike, was derived from her intimate and constant\ncontact with the Unseen, and the means of that contact were prayer and\nthe Bible.\n\nShe had an implicit belief in the reality of prayer, simply because she\nhad tested its efficacy every day of her life, and had never found it\nto fail. When her old friend, Mr. Smith of Dundee, asked for her\ntestimony to include in his book, _Our Faithful God: Answers to\nPrayer_, she wrote:\n\nMy life is one long daily, hourly, record of answered prayer. For\nphysical health, for mental overstrain, for guidance given\nmarvellously, for errors and dangers averted, for enmity to the Gospel\nsubdued, for food provided at the exact hour needed, for everything\nthat goes to make up life and my poor service, I can testify with a\nfull and often wonder-stricken awe that I believe God answers prayer. I\nknow God answers prayer. I have proved during long decades while alone,\nas far as man's help and presence are concerned, that God answers\nprayer. Cavilings, logical or physical, are of no avail to me. It is\nthe very atmosphere in which I live and breathe and have my being, and\nit makes life glad and free and a million times worth living. I can\ngive no other testimony. I am sitting alone here on a log among a\ncompany of natives. My children, whose very lives are a testimony that\nGod answers prayer, are working round me. Natives are crowding past on\nthe bush road to attend palavers, and I am at perfect peace, far from\nmy own countrymen and conditions, because I know God answers prayer.\nFood is scarce just now. We live from hand to mouth. We have not more\nthan will be our breakfast to-day, but I know we shall be fed, for God\nanswers prayer.\n\nShe realised that prayer was hedged round by conditions, and that\neverything depended upon the nature of the correspondence between earth\nand heaven. She likened the process to a wireless message, saying, \"We\ncan only obtain God's best by fitness of receiving power. Without\nreceivers fitted and kept in order the air may tingle and thrill with\nthe message, but it will not reach my spirit and consciousness.\" And\nshe knew equally well that all prayer was not worthy of being answered.\nThose who were disappointed she would ask to look intelligently at\nfirst causes as well as regretfully at second causes. To one who said\nhe had prayed without avail, she wrote: \"You thought God was to hear\nand answer you by making everything straight and pleasant--not so are\nnations or churches or men and women born; not so is character made.\nGod is answering your prayer in His way.\" And to another who was in\nsimilar mood she wrote: \"I know what it is to pray long years and never\nget the answer--I had to pray for my father. But I know my heavenly\nFather so well that I can leave it with Him for the lower fatherhood.\"\nIn this as in other things she had to confess that she herself often\nfailed. \"I am a poor exponent of faith,\" she would say. \"I ought to\nhave full faith in our Father that He will do everything, but I am\nashamed of myself, for I want to 'see,' and that sends faith out of\ncourt. I never felt more in sympathy with that old afflicted father\nbefore in his prayer, 'Lord, I believe, help Thou my unbelief'--every\nsyllable suits me.\"\n\nShe had absolute faith in intercession, \"Prayer,\" she said, \"is the\ngreatest power God has put into our hands for service--praying is\nharder work than doing, at least I find it so, but the dynamic lies\nthat way to advance the Kingdom.\" She believed that some of her\nofficial friends, the Empire-builders, were kept straight in this way:\n\"The bands that mothers and sisters weave by prayer and precept are the\nstrongest in the world.\" There was nothing she asked her friends more\noften at home to do than to pray for the Mission and the workers.\n\"Don't stop praying for us,\" she pleaded, and her injunctions were\nsometimes pathetic in their personal application: \"Pray that the power\nof Christ may rest on me, that He may never be disappointed in me or\nfind me disobedient to the heavenly vision when He shows the way, pray\nthat I may make no false moves, but that the spirit will say, 'Go here\nand go there,'\" She was always convinced that it was the prayers of the\npeople in Scotland that carried her on and made the work possible. \"It\nis so customary to put aside those who, like myself, are old-fashioned\nand unable for the burden and heat of the day; but in my case it is\ncare and love and forbearance all the way through; and all this I trace\nback to the great amount of prayer which has ever followed me, to the\nquality more than the quantity of that intercession. Prayer-waves\npulsate from Britain all through Calabar.\" To one who had always prayed\nfor her she also wrote: \"I have always said that I have no idea how and\nwhy God has carried me over so many funny and hard places, and made\nthese hordes of people submit to me, or why the Government should have\ngiven me the privilege of a magistrate among them, except in answer to\nprayer made at home for me. It is all beyond my comprehension. The only\nway I can explain it is on the ground that I have been prayed for more\nthan most. Pray on, dear one-the power lies that way.\" She also urged\nprayer for the Mission Committees, Home and Foreign--\"We expect them to\ndo so much and to do it so well, and yet we withhold the means by which\nalone they can do it.\"\n\nAlmost invariably, when acknowledging money, she would beg the donors\nto follow up their gifts by prayer for workers. \"Now,\" she would say,\n\"let us ask God earnestly and constantly for the greater gift of men\nand women to fill all these vacant posts.\"\n\nShe used to pray much for her friends in all their circumstances,\nasking for many things for them that they desired, but eventually her\npetition came to be, \"Lord give them Thy best and it shall suffice them\nand me.\"\n\nHer religion was a religion of the heart, and her communion with her\nFather was of the most natural, most childlike character. No rule or\nhabit guided her. She just spoke to Him as a child to her Father when\nshe needed help and strength, or when her heart was filled with joy and\ngratitude, at any time, in any place. He was so real to her, so near,\nthat her words were almost of the nature of conversation. There was no\nformality, no self-conscious or stereotyped diction, only the simplest\nlanguage from a quiet and humble heart. It is told of her that when in\nScotland, after a tiresome journey, she sat down at the tea-table\nalone, and, lifting her eyes, said, \"Thank ye, Faither--ye ken I'm\ntired,\" in the most ordinary way, as if she had been addressing her\nfriends. On another occasion, in the country, she lost her spectacles\nwhile coming from a meeting in the dark. Snow lay on the ground, and\nthere seemed little hope of recovering them. She could not do without\nthem, and she prayed simply and directly: \"O Father, give me back my\nspectacles.\" Early next morning the milk-boy saw something glistening\nin the snow, and she had the spectacles in time to read her Bible. A\nlady asked her how she obtained such intimacy with God. \"Ah, woman,\"\nshe said, \"when I am out there in the bush I have often no other one to\nspeak to but my Father, and I just talk to Him.\" It was in that way she\nkept herself in tune with the highest. Sometimes, when there had been\nlaughing and frivolous conversation before a meeting, she lost \"grip,\"\nand was vexed and restless and dumb. But a little communion with her\nFather would put matters right. Once, oppressed by a similar mood, she\nforesaw complete failure, but the minister who presided, as if\nconscious of her attitude, prayed in such a way as to lift the burden\nfrom her heart, and she was given not only a calm spirit but also an\neloquent tongue.\n\nHow natural it was for her to pray is evidenced by an incident at one\nof the ladies' committee meetings at Duke Town. Speaking of it she\nsaid, \"All the ladies were laughing and daffin' over something of a\npicturesque sort, when it struck me we ought to be praying rather, and\nI just said so, and at once the whole lot jumped up, and we went into\nthe nearest room and were closeted with our Master for a bit.\"\nSometimes in the Mission House she would call the children to prayer\nat odd hours, and Jean would remonstrate and say, \"Ma, the time is long\npast.\" \"Jean,\" she would reply, \"the gate of heaven is never shut.\" She\nsaid she wished to teach them that they could pray anywhere and at any\ntime, and not only in the church.\n\n\"_We are not really apart,\" she once wrote to a friend in Scotland,\n\"_for you can touch God direct by prayer, and so can I_.\"\n\n\n\n\n                            X. BIBLE STUDENT\n\nShe had always been an earnest and intelligent student of the Bible,\nand to her it grew more wonderful every day. She believed that the\nspread of the Book was the simplest and most natural and direct way of\npreaching the Gospel and keeping it pure. Her own reading of it was\nmainly accomplished in the early morning. As soon as there was light\nenough--which was usually about 5.30--she took a fine pen and her Bible\nand turned to the book she was studying in the Old or New Testament.\nShe underlined the governing words and sentences as she went along in\nher endeavour to grasp the meaning of the writer and the course of his\nargument; word by word, sentence by sentence, she patiently followed\nhis thought. Sometimes it would be three days before she completed a\nchapter, but she would not leave it until she had some kind of idea as\nto its purpose. She was her own commentator, and on the margin she\nnoted the truths she had learned, the lessons she had received, her\nopinions about the sentiment expressed, or the character described. If\nher expositions were not according to the ordinary canons of exegesis,\nthey had the merit of being simple, fresh, and unconventional. Her\nlanguage was as candid, often as pungent, as her remarks in\nconversation, its very frankness and force indicating how real to her\nwere the life and conditions she was studying. When one Bible was\nfinished she began another, and repeated the process, for she found\nthat new thoughts came as the years went by. On one occasion we find\nher interested in a recent translation, reading it to discover whether\nit gave any clearer construction of the more difficult passages. Such\nsedulous study had its effect upon her character and life; she was\ninterpenetrated with the spirit of the Book; it gave her direction in\nall her affairs--in her difficult palavers she would remark, \"Let us\nsee what the Bible says on this point \"--it inspired her with hope,\nfaith, and, and courage. Often after an hour or two of meditation over\nit she felt no desire for ordinary literature, all other books seeming\ntame and tasteless after its pages.\n\nSome of the later Bibles she used are in existence, and bear testimony\nto the thoroughness of her methods. Almost every page is a mass of\ninterlineations and notes. As one turns them over, phrases here and\nthere catch the eye, arresting in thought and epigrammatic in form;\nsuch for instance as these:\n\n_God is never behind time.\n\nIf you play with temptation do not expect God will deliver you.\n\nA gracious woman has gracious friendships.\n\nNo gift or genius or position can keep us safe or free from sin.\n\nNature is under fixed and fine laws, but it cannot meet the need of\nman.\n\nWe must see and know Christ before we can teach.\n\nGood is good, but it is not enough; it must be God.\n\nThe secret of all failure is disobedience,\n\nUnspiritual man cannot stand success.\n\nThere is no escape from the reflex action of sin; broken law will have\nits revenge,\n\nSin is loss for time and eternity,\n\nThe smallest things are as absolutely necessary as the great things.\n\nAn arm of flesh never brings power.\n\nHalf the world's sorrow comes from the unwisdom of parents.\n\nObedience brings health,\n\nBlessed the man and woman who is able to serve cheerfully in the second\nrank--a big test,\n\nWhat they were weary of was the punishment, not the sin that brought\nit.\n\nSlavery never pays; the slave is spoiled as a man, and the master not\nless so.\n\nIt were worth while to die, if thereby a soul could be born again._\n\nShe was deeply interested in the earlier books, for the reason that the\nmoral and social conditions depicted there were analogous to those she\nhad to deal with in Calabar. Every now and then we come across such\nremarks as these: \"a Calabar palaver,\" \"a chapter of Calabar history,\"\n\"a picture of Calabar outside the gospel area,\" \"this happens in\nOkoyong every day.\" Her own experience helped her to understand the\nstory of these primitive civilisations, and her annotations on this\npart of the Bible have always the sharpest point. To the sentence, \"The\nLord watch between me and thee,\" she appends, \"Beautiful sentiment, but\na _mbiam_ oath of fear.\" Jacob she terms in one place a \"selfish\nbeggar.\" Of Jael she says, \"Not a womanly woman, a sorry story; would\nGod not have showed her a better way if she had asked?\" and of part of\nDeborah's song she remarks, \"Fine poetry, poor morality.\" Her opinion\nof Jezebel is thus expressed: \"A vain, heartless woman; one of the most\nrevolting stories in history, and she might have been such a queen! A\ngood woman is the most beautiful thing on earth, but a bad woman is a\nsource of corruption.... Had only her soul been clean, dogs might have\nbeen welcome to her body.\"\n\nThe book of Job was always well studied. She had a great admiration for\nthe \"upright, wealthy, greatly-feared, and respected sheikh,\" and\nlittle or none for the \"typical philosophers,\" who came, Calabar\nfashion, and sought to comfort him in his day of trial. Job was not, in\nher view, rebellious; \"his plaint was a relief to his own spirit, and\nan appeal for sympathy.\" On chapter ix. she writes, \"The atmosphere is\nclearing; the clouds are scattering, glimpses of sunshine, of\nstarlight, and beauty; the spirit swings back on its pivot and begins\nto see God.\" Farther on, \"Right, Job--turn to God I Leave it to Him--\nthe fit of depression will pass when you have sounded the depths, and\nprofit will follow.\" On chapter xviii. her comment is, \"Such is the\nfriendship of the world\"; on chapter xx., \"How very sure the fool is in\nhis explanations of God's ways\"; on chapter xxvii., \"The ultimate\nvalues of life shall be fixed not by wealth but by character\"; on\nchapter xxviii., \"A very mine of gems and precious things--exquisitely\nlovely thoughts and language. Poetry like this in the earliest ages of\nthe world!\" Of Elihu's contentions in chapter xxxiv., \"A good many\ntruths, but served up with bitter herbs, not with love\": on chapter\nxxxvii., \"Beautiful poetry, but a very bleak and barren picture of God;\nhard, arbitrary, selfish, self-centred, striking terror into His works,\nand compelling obedience and service. Nature cannot reveal Him, Elihu!\"\nOn the next chapter, \"The God of nature turns the picture, and behold\nit is no more destruction and blind force, but beneficence and gracious\ndesign and beauty,\"--and so on to the end, when we read, \"The voice of\nhumanity demands some such judgment and relief from the mysteries and\ntrials and misrepresentations of this life. The poem rings true to the\ncry of the spirit of man. Is there a modern drama in any language to\ncome near to this ancient production?\"\n\nThe New Testament was brooded over and absorbed with a care and\nthoroughness which must have made every line and every thought familiar\nto her. St. John was her favourite book. A few specimens of her remarks\nmay be given:\n\n\"_When the people saw that Jesus was not there ... they took shipping\nand came ... seeking for Jesus_.\"\n\n\"The secret of our failures in winning men; they don't find Him with\nus.\"\n\n\"_The Pharisees also with the Sadducees came and tempted Him that He\nwould, show them a sign from Heaven_.\"\n\n\"Man's cry for the moon! What does a sign prove? Is God known by\nmagic?\"\n\n\"_And the people asked Him saying, What shall we do then? ... 'He\nthat hath two coats let him impart to him that hath none_.'\"\n\n\"By love serve.\"\n\n\"_And He said unto them, When I sent you without purse and scrip and\nshoes lacked you anything_?\"\n\n\"No, Lord, never was lack with Thee!\"\n\n\"_And her parents were astonished, but He charged them that they should\ntell no man what He had done_.\"\n\n\"Life will tell. Speech will end in chatter.\"\n\nThese illustrations, picked out at random, will serve to indicate what\nan intimate companion she made of her Bible, and with what loving\npatience and insight she studied it for the illumination and deepening\nof her spiritual life.\n\n\n\n\n                       XI. BACK TO THE OLD HAUNTS\n\nEight years had passed since she had left Akpap, and she had never been\nback, although she had paid flying visits to the hinterland. Miss\nAmess, with whom her friendship had grown close, was in charge, being\nminister, doctor, dispenser, teacher, and mentor to the people, and\nwith her was Miss Ramsay. They had built a new church, which was almost\nready, and Miss Amess determined to bring \"Ma\" over and have the\nMacgregors to meet her. \"Ma\" could not resist the temptation to revisit\nthe scenes of her greatest adventures, and went in July 1913, taking\nthe children with her, except Mary, and ordering the others at Calabar,\nincluding the two youngest, Whitie and Asuqu\u00f6, who were also natives of\nthe district, to join her.\n\nHer arrival caused much excitement, and her stay was one long\nreception. All day the Mission House was like a market; from far and\nnear the people came to _k\u00f6m_ their Mother. She could scarcely be got\nto come to meals. On the first day when she was called, she said,\n\"These are my meat to-day,\" and then she told those about her what\nChrist had said to His disciples after His conversation with the woman\nof Samaria. Such love as the ladies saw on both sides they had not\nthought possible between missionary and native. She seemed to remember\nthe names of most of the people, and all the details of their family\nhistories. One after another came forward and talked and revived\nstories of the old times. But she seemed vexed to see so many who were\ninterested in her, and with no concern for the things of God, and with\nthese she pled earnestly to come to church and give themselves to the\nSaviour. Two notable figures were Mana, and the mother of Susie, Iye.\n\nThe children were a source of astonishment to all. These healthy,\nhappy, handsome young people, the babies that had been cast away or\ndespised--it was wonderful! They gazed upon them in a kind of awe. A\nfew of the older and women held aloof from the twins, but not in any\noffensive way, and the general disposition was to ignore the stain on\ntheir birth.\n\nThere was a touching meeting with Ma Eme, who could not conceal her\naffection and joy at seeing her old \"Ma\" again. Much to Mary's sorrow\nshe was still a heathen, and a very zealous one, as she sacrificed\ndaily to the spirits in the crudest way, with food and blood, in\nabasement and fear. So strong was superstition rooted in her nature\nthat she would not touch the twins, although she confessed it was\nmarvellous that they had grown up.\n\nThe two women, bound by so strange a friendship, talked long about the\nold days. It was, \"Do you remember this?\" \"Do you remember that?\" and\nthen would follow reminiscences of the killing time when they worked\nhand in hand in secret for the preservation of life. Nothing that \"Ma\"\ncould say would induce Ma Eme to throw off her allegiance to her\nAfrican beliefs, and at the end of a long day she left, the same kind,\nhigh-bred, mysterious heathen woman that she had always been. She died\nshortly after. \"My dear old friend and almost sister,\" said Mary, \"she\nmade the saving of life so often possible in the early days, It is sad\nthat she did not come out for Christ. She could have been the honoured\nleader of God's work had she risen to it. I cannot fancy Okoyong\nwithout her. She made a foolish choice, and yet God cannot forget all\nshe was to me, and all she helped me to do in those dark and bloody\ndays.\"\n\nA service was arranged, but the throng who wished to hear \"Ma\" was so\ngreat that it had to be held in the unfinished church, and thus Mary\nhad the joy of being at the first service. Over four hundred well-\ndressed natives were present, the largest number ever in a church in\nOkoyong, She thought of the wild old days, and contrasted them with the\npresent scene. \"Truly,\" she said to herself, \"one soweth and another\nreapeth.\" She spoke for half an hour, giving a strong, inspiring talk\non the duties of those who are believers to the world around them.\n\nWith her usual thought for others she sat down and wrote to her old\ncomrade, Miss Wright (Mrs. Rattray), in England, giving her the details\nof her visit, and accounts of the people. \"This house,\" she said, \"is\nfull of memories of you, and you are not forgotten.\" She described with\npride and hope the way in which the ladies were conducting the station,\nand praised them in her usual generous manner. After she left, it\nseemed to them that they had greater influence among the people than\never.\n\n\n\n\n                         XII. ROYAL RECOGNITION\n\nThe friends who had known her long were noticing that a new softness\nand graciousness were stealing into her life. She never grew\ncommonplace, and was original as ever, but her character was mellowing,\nand her love and humility becoming even more marked. \"Love will\novercome all,\" was her belief, and love, for her, included all the\nqualities of the Christian faith--simplicity, kindness, patience,\ncharity, selflessness, confidence, hope. In herself she was conscious\nof many faults. \"I don't half live up to the ideal missionary life,\"\nshe said, with a sigh. \"It is not easier to be a saint here than at\nhome. We are very human, and not goody-goody at all.\" Often she was\ndeep in the valley of humiliation over hasty words spoken and\nopportunities of service let slip. But she was saved from depression by\nher sense of humour. She laughed and dared the devil. Of one who had\njust come out she wrote: \"She is very serious, and will take life and\nwork more in the sense of tasks than of a glad free life ... we want\none to laugh, to hitch on to the yoke, and joke over all that we don't\nlike.\" She also became less uncompromising in her views. \"My opinions,\"\nshe acknowledged, \"may not just suit every one, and it is possible\nother people may be right and I far wrong.... But although we differ\namongst ourselves, and some things differentiate our work, we are all\nin full friendship and sympathy with one another.\"\n\nIt was not possible for self-abnegation to go farther than it did in\nher case. She was unable to see that she had done anything out of the\ncommon. \"I have lived my life very quietly and in a very natural and\nhumble way,\" she would say, and all the credit of her work was given to\nGod. \"It isn't Mary Slessor doing anything, but Something outside of\nher altogether uses her as her small ability allows.\" She did not say\n\"my plan,\" or \"my scheme\"--if she did she checked herself and said,\n\"What God wants me to do.\" And she always paid generous tribute to her\ngirls, who, she said, did more than she did, though no one counted it\nto them. She was distressed to receive letters praising her. One who\nsaw her go out from Scotland to her life-work, and had lovingly\nfollowed her career ever since, wrote saying that her reward would be a\nstarry crown in the glory land, and her reply was, \"_What would I do\nwith starry crowns except to cast them at His feet?_\"\n\nNothing illustrated this feature so notably as an event which occurred\nshortly after her visit to Akpap. Two years previously a few of her\nfriends in Calabar, official and missionary, had talked over the\npossibility of securing some public recognition of her unique service.\nMr. Macgregor wrote an account of her life-work for the Government, but\nit was not until Sir Frederick Lugard arrived as Governor-General of\nthe united provinces of Northern and Southern Nigeria that action was\ntaken. He was so struck by the heroic record placed before him that he\nat once sent home a strong recommendation to the Secretary of State for\nthe Colonies, that Mary's services should be brought to Royal notice.\nThe Secretary of State was equally impressed, and laid the matter\nbefore the Chapter-General of the Order of the Hospital of St. John of\nJerusalem in England, of which the King is Sovereign Head, and the Duke\nof Connaught Grand Prior. This was done, and she was selected for\nadmission. When she received the august-looking document asking her to\naccept the honour, she said to herself, \"Now, who has done this? Who am\nI, and what is my distinction that I should have it?\" She was in a\nquandary how to answer, but eventually complied with the request,\nthinking that would be the end of it. Shortly afterwards came a letter\nstating that \"her selection had received the sanction and approval of\nHis Most Gracious Majesty King George V.\" The Chapter-General, it was\nstated, elected her \"with particular satisfaction\" to the grade of\nHonorary Associate. This honour is only conferred on persons professing\nthe Christian faith, who are eminently distinguished for philanthropy,\nor who have specially devoted their exertions or professional skill in\naid of the objects of the Order. The Badge of an Honorary Associate is\na Maltese Cross in silver, embellished at the four principal angles\nwith a lion passant guardant and a unicorn passant alternately. It is\nworn by women on the left shoulder, attached to a black watered riband\ntied in a bow.\n\n\"Ma\" kept the matter a secret, even after she had received the diploma,\nbut the silver Badge came through the Colonial Office to the\nCommissioner at Duke Town, and the honour being made public, her\nfriends schemed to get her down to a formal presentation. It was a\ndifficult problem, but it was solved by a letter being sent stating\nthat the decoration had arrived, that, of course, she would not care to\nhave it given to her surreptitiously, and that her duty was to come to\nCalabar for it. A telegraph form, ready for dispatch, and bearing the\none word \"Coming,\" was enclosed. They knew she would get agitated, and\nhave no peace until the telegram was out of her hands. Their surmise\nwas correct. She sent the message and committed herself to the ordeal.\n\nShe was not elated at the prospect of appearing at a Government\nfunction; neither was she perturbed, and she went about her duties as\nusual. Miss Gilmour, one of the new lady agents, tells how on the eve\nof her departure she gathered the bairns for family worship, and in a\nsimple and beautiful way read to them the story of the Good Shepherd\nand the sheep that followed. Then, as an illustration, she took the\nstory of Peter's denial of our Lord, and showed that Peter sinned\nbecause he followed \"afar off.\" \"Eh, bairns,\" she said, \"it's the wee\nlassie that sits beside her mother at meal times that gets all the nice\nbittocks. The one who sits far away and sulks disna ken what she\nmisses. Even the pussy gets more than she does. Keep close to Jesus the\nGood Shepherd all the way.\"\n\nA Government launch was sent to bring her down, an honour she felt as\nmuch as the bestowal of the insignia, and as she walked up to the\nMacgregors' house--the Wilkies were in Scotland--there were many who\nwere struck by the dignity of her appearance, dressed though she was in\nan old but clean cotton dress, straw hat, and list shoes. On the\nSaturday afternoon she went to an \"At Home\" at the Barracks, where she\nwas lionised in a quiet way. She attended a cricket match--she was an\nadvocate of all games, and believed they were excellent civilising\nagencies--and also witnessed a sham fight, where the \"enemy\" dressed\nthemselves up as \"savage warriors\" and attacked the Barrack Hill. She\nwas much impressed, and kept saying to her old friend the Hon. Horace\nBedwell, the Provincial Commissioner, \"That's just splendid. Look how\nthe officers lead them.\" On Sunday she spoke for three-quarters of an\nhour to the boys in the Institute in Efik, and no boys could have\nlistened more intently. On Monday night she was at Government House at\ndinner.\n\nThe presentation took place in the Goldie Memorial Hall on Wednesday,\nMr. Macgregor presiding. All the Europeans who could leave business\ngathered to do her honour. The boys of the Training Institute and the\ngirls of the Edgerley Memorial School were also in the hall. Had it not\nbeen that Mr. Bedwell and Mrs. Bedwell were beside her, and that it was\nthe former who made the presentation, she would have felt more nervous.\nAs it was, she sat with her head buried in her hands. Mr. Bedwell spoke\nof her unique work and influence, and of her genius for friendship in a\nway that overcame her. She could not at first find words to reply. She\nturned to the children, and in Efik told them to be faithful to the\nGovernment, for at bottom it was Christian, and, as the silver Badge\nproved, friendly to missions. Self was thus entirely effaced in her\ninterpretation of the act; she made it appear to be the recognition by\nthe Government of the work of the Mission, and suggested that it might\nhave been awarded to any member of the staff.\n\nHaving recovered her courage she spoke in English, saying that she did\nnot understand why she had been chosen for the distinction, when others\ndeserved it more. In a closing passage of simple beauty, she gave God\nthe honour and praise for all she had been able to accomplish. What had\nimpressed her at the sham fight was that the officer was always in\nfront leading and guiding his men. \"If I have done anything in my life\nit has been easy because the Master has gone before.\"\n\nForty Europeans came to tea at the Macgregors', and \"Ma\" was brilliant\nand entertaining. On Thursday her hosts convoyed her back to Use. Mrs.\nBedwell had presented her with a bouquet of flowers, and she had taken\nout the roses--of which she was passionately fond--and placed them in\nwater. On her arrival she carefully planted one of the stems, and to\nher great joy it grew and flourished in front of her hut.\n\n\"Don't think,\" she wrote home, \"that there is any difference in my\ndesignation. I am Mary Mitchell Slessor, nothing more and none other\nthan the unworthy, unprofitable, but most willing, servant of the King\nof Kings. May this be an incentive to work, and to be better than ever\nI have been in the past.\"\n\nAt home the honour was made known chiefly through the _Record_ of the\nChurch, in which Mr. Macgregor gave some account of her romantic\ncareer. He stipulated that this should be anonymous, for \"Ma,\" he\nfeared, would never forgive him if she knew that he had been connected\nwith it. She gained a repute that was akin to fame. Congratulations\nfrom all parts of the world were showered upon her. Sir Frederick\nLugard sent his \"hearty and sincere congratulations, and his\nappreciation of this well-earned reward for her life of heroic self-\nsacrifice.\" In confusion of heart she escaped to Ikpe. \"I shall never\nlook the world in the face again until all this blarney and publicity\nis over,\" she said. \"I feel so glad that I can hide here quietly where\nno one knows about newspapers and _Records_, and do my small portion of\nwork out of sight.\"\n\nFor a time she was kept busy replying to the correspondence that the\nevent evoked, and to all she made the same modest reply, that she saw\nin the honour \"God's goodness to the Mission and her fellow-labourers,\nwho were levelling and building and consolidating the work on every\nside. It is a token that He means to encourage them in the midst of\ntheir discouraging circumstances.\"\n\n\n\n\n                        XIII. BATTLE FOR A LIFE\n\nEach new kindness shown her was an incentive to harder service. She\nthrew herself again into work with an extraordinary keenness.\nDissatisfied with what she was doing at Ikpe, she moved in all\ndirections in her \"box on wheels,\" prospecting for new spheres of\nusefulness, fording rivers, crossing swamps, climbing hills, pushing\nthrough bush, traversing roads that were unsafe and where by the law\npeople had to go in couples, and often putting up at villages six or\nten miles distant. She saw crowds of people, and hundreds of women and\nchildren in every street, but no light; not even a desire for it,\nthough here and there she found a disciple or two. She met with more\nopposition from the chiefs than she had done in all her experience.\nThey would not hear of \"God fashions,\" and would not permit teachers to\nenter their districts or churches to be built; they forbade all\nmeetings for worship. She braced herself, body and mind, for the fight.\nShe spent days in palaver, but they would not give in. She insisted\nthat at least the right of the disciples to meet and worship in their\nown homes must be recognised. When the chiefs saw her face, set with\niron resolution, they were afraid, wavered, and agreed. They then\nbecame quite friendly. \"We don't object to schools,\" they admitted. \"We\nwant our children to learn to read and write, but we want no\ninterference with our fashions. If houses of God are built, we shall\nall die, and we are dying fast enough.\"\n\n\"I shall never give you teachers without the Gospel,\" she declared. \"If\nyou don't take the one, you won't have the other. But I'm going to\nbring both. I shall put up a shed on the roadside, and hold services\nthere whenever I get a chance.\"\n\n\"All right, Ma,\" they said with something like admiration. \"Come\nyourself, but don't send boys.\"\n\nAnd then she remembered. \"How can this poor tabernacle do it, even with\nsix lads to push and pull and carry the cart through the streams? But I\nhave opened the way, and that is something.\"\n\nIn Ikpe itself the currents of heathenism ran deep and strong, and she\nfound progress as difficult as in Okoyong. But she solved all the\nproblems in the same fearless way as she had done there. Unlike those\nin other centres, the women and girls of the town took no interest in\nthe work, and would not come forward, and she knew there was no hope\nfor the community unless she secured their sympathy and attachment to\nthe cause. At first a few girls had ventured to sit by themselves in\nchurch. Then some village accident made the chiefs believe that their\njuju was angry because the girls had forsaken their sacrifices and\ndeserted the heathen plays, and they placed pressure on them to return.\nSome were flogged and made to pray before a clay-pot with an egg in it,\nand all were forced out on the moonlight nights to take part in the\nplays. \"If they don't do that,\" demanded the chiefs, \"how can they have\nchildren for us?\" The girls lost courage and forsook the church, but\nshe did not blame them. \"Poor things, they are as timid as hares, and\nhave never had a choice of what to do until I came. But the chiefs--I\nwill be hard on them!\"\n\nOne day she gathered all those who were faithful to the church laws,\nand interviewed the chiefs. The spokesman for her party urged that the\nantagonism that had been shown should cease; he agreed that any one who\nbroke the ordinary laws should be punished, but no girl or young man\nshould be compelled to sacrifice or pray to idols, or be ostracised or\nfined for fearing God. The words were received with scornful looks and\nlaughs, the chiefs being hardly able to restrain themselves, but they\nhad a wholesome fear of \"Ma,\" and were never outwardly disrespectful in\nher presence. They looked at her. She kept a severe and solemn face,\nand they were a little nonplussed.\n\n\"Ma, have you heard?\" they asked,\n\n\"Am I not here?\" she replied.\n\nTaking the gift of rods that had been offered, the chiefs retired. When\nthey returned they said: \"Ma, we hear. Let the present of rods lie, we\naccept of it, and we promise that we will respect God's laws, in regard\nto the joining in our sacrifices; and in regard to the Sabbath, we\nshall respect it and leave our work; but we will _not_ join in the\nconfusions of the church, that we cannot do.\"\n\n\"God will doubtless be immensely pleased and benefited by your wondrous\ncondescension,\" said she with good-humoured sarcasm, and they laughed\nheartily and tried to be friendly, but Mary airily told her people to\nrise and go.\n\nFearing she was not pleased, the chiefs made to accompany her.\n\n\"I'm going round to see a woman in the next street,\" said Mary\npointedly. They stopped dead at once. Here was the \"confusion\" they\nreferred to, for the woman was a twin-mother.\n\nIt was the old weary battle over again,\n\nHer patience and persistence eventually won a victory for the girls.\nThey were allowed to return to church, but the line was drawn at the\nday-school. The chiefs said girls were meant to work and mother the\nbabies, and not to learn \"book.\" Even the boys who attended, each\nburdened with an infant to justify the waste of time, were not allowed\nto bring a baby girl. If the baby of the home was a girl, he looked\nafter her there and his place was vacant. Mary began to think of\nteaching the girls apart from the boys, when one day several girls\nmarched in; she courted them with all the skill she possessed, and\ngradually one or two chiefs brought their daughters, who returned with\ndresses from the Mission box, and that ended the opposition.\n\nBut there was no end to the struggle over twins. Time and again she had\nto send the girls to bring babes to the Mission House, and many a\nstirring night she had, she sleeping with them in her bed, whilst\noutside stealthy forms watched for a chance to free the town from the\ndefilement of their presence. The first that survived was a boy. The\nhusband, angry and sullen, was for murdering it and putting the mother\ninto a hole in the swamp. She faced him with the old flash in her eye,\nand made him take oath not to hurt or kill the child. He even promised\nto permit it to live, for which magnanimity she bowed ironically to the\nground, an act that put his courage at once to flight. She had come to\nrealise that it was not good to take twins from their mother, and she\ninsisted on the child being kept in the home. Jean was sent to stay and\nsleep with the woman, and as she had, on occasion, as caustic a tongue\nas \"Ma,\" the man had not a very agreeable time. It was decided later to\nbring the woman and child to the hut, and there, beneath her verandah,\nthey rigged up a little lean-to, where they were housed, Jean sleeping\nwith them at night and keeping a watchful eye on the mother. \"It is\nreally,\" said \"Ma,\" \"far braver and kinder of her to live with that\nheathen woman with her fretting habits than it is for her to go out in\nthe dark and fight with snakes. Jean has as many faults as myself, but\nshe is a darling, none the less, and a treasure.\" All going well, they\nwent on Sunday to church and left the mother. When they returned they\nfound she had broken the baby's thigh and given him some poisonous\nstuff. With care the boy recovered, but they redoubled their\nprecautions, hoping that when the parents saw how handsome and healthy\nand normal the little fellow was, they would consent to keep him.\n\n\"Ma\" was due at Use, but she would not leave Ikpe until she had\nconquered. Another month passed, and she was running out of provisions,\nincluding tea. To be without tea was a tremendous deprivation. She\nthought of the big fragrant package that had been sent out as a gift,\nand was lying fifty miles away but un-get-at-able, and felt far from\nsaintly as she resorted to the infusion of old leaves. One Sunday\nevening there was a shout. A canoe had arrived, and in it was a box.\nWith sudden prescience Jean flew for a hammer and chisel and broke it\nopen, and sure enough inside was the tea from Use. Mary marvelled, and\nwith all the young folk round her stood and thanked God, the Lord of\nthe Sabbath, for His goodness. The beverage had never tasted so sweet\nand invigorating. Though her thrifty Scottish nature rejoiced that she\nhad been able to save a little, she confessed that she would never be a\nmiser where tea was concerned, Whenever she received a package she\ninvariably sent a share to old Mammy Fuller at Duke Town. \"Mammy,\" she\ntold a home friend, \"has lived a holy and consecrated life here for\nfifty years, and is perhaps the best-loved woman in Duke Town. Uncle\nTom in the old cabin is a child in the knowledge of God to Mammy. So we\nall love to share anything with her, and she especially loves a cup of\ntea.\"\n\nThe parents of the twin were at last persuaded to take the big happy\nchild home and provide for it. Four days later they sent for Jean, who\nreturned, carrying a weak, pinched form that had death written on its\nface. It succumbed shortly afterwards--and that was the end of \"Ma's\"\nstrenuous fight and Jean's ten weeks' toil by night and day.\n\n\n\n\n                       XIV. A VISION OF THE NIGHT\n\nShe was down at Use for Christmastide with all her children about her,\nand was very happy at seeing the consummation of her efforts to build a\nnew church. The opening took place on Christmas Day,\n\n\"A bonnie kirk it is,\" she wrote. \"Mr. Cruickshank officiated, and was\nat his very best. Miss Peacock, my dear comrade and her young helper\nMiss Cooper--a fine lassie--came and spent the whole day, so we had a\ngrand time, the biggest Christmas I've ever had in Calabar. Three tall\nflag-poles with trade-cloth flags in the most flaming colours hung over\nthe village from point to point embracing the old and the new churches.\nThe people provided a plain breakfast in their several homes for over\neighty of our visitors, who therefore stayed over the forenoon. It made\nour Christian population look fairly formidable, and certainly very\nreputable as a force for uplifting and regenerating society. It looks\nbut yesterday that they were a horde of the most unlikely and\nunresponsive people one could approach, and yet the Gospel has made of\nthem already something to prove that it is the power of God unto\nsalvation to a people and to an individual every and anywhere.\"\n\nIt was to her \"one of the reddest of red-letter days,\" such a day as\nonly comes at rare intervals, and she fell into the snare, as she said,\n\"of being carried away with it,\" with the result that at night she was\ndown with fever. This kept recurring every alternate night. It was the\nharmattan season, in which she always wilted like some delicate flower\nin the sun, and she grew so limp and fragile that she could not sit up.\nShe felt that she would be compelled to go home in the summer with the\nMacgregors, but the idea frightened her, chiefly because of the stir\nthat had been caused by the honour she had received. \"I dare not appear\nat home after all this publicity,\" she said. \"I simply could not face\nthe music.\" As she recovered a little she superintended the work of the\ngirls outside, and was amused at the way her advice was now received.\n\"Jean and Annie do not hesitate to set it aside quietly in their\nsuperior way; it often works out better than mine, truth to tell--\nthough I say it does so by accident!\" This was a different house-mother\nfrom the one who ruled years before.\n\nIn one of her fever nights, tossing in semi-delirium, she had a vision.\nShe had been following the Chapman-Alexander Mission in Glasgow with\nkeen interest, and in the long watches her excited brain continued to\ndwell on the meetings. She dreamt, or imagined, that out of gratitude\nfor what had been accomplished, two young Glasgow engineers had taken a\nsix months' holiday, and come out with their motor car to Calabar. They\nspent their days running up and down the Government Road through\nIbibio, singing and giving evangelistic addresses, she interpreting,\nthe girls, who were packed into the cars, doing the catering and\ncooking, and the Government Rest Houses providing the lodging. \"What a\nnight it was!\" she wrote. \"The bairns were afraid, for I was babbling\nmore than usual, but to me it was as real as if it had all happened. We\nran backwards and forwards between Itu and Ikpe, spending alternate\nSundays with the Churches, and taking Miss Peacock to her outstations,\nand visiting Miss Welsh, It was magnificent.\"\n\nThe vision did not pass away; she took it as a sign from God; and out\nof it in the morning she formulated a scheme which one day she hoped\nwould be realised. \"It is strange,\" she said, \"that it has never dawned\non us before. Here is the Government making use of the motor car to do\nits work. Why should not the Church do the same when the roads are\nhere? It would permit one man to do the work of three, it would save\nstrength, and make for efficiency. The reason why I have been able to\ngo farther than my colleagues, is that I have had the privilege of\nusing Government conveyances by land and water; to have a car and a\nmechanic missionary would be supplying us with a grand opportunity for\nmultiplied service.\" She expatiated on the matter in letters to her\nfriends at home, and the longer she thought of the idea, the more it\nfired her imagination. Within a few days she was flying over the ground\nin the Government car on her way to Ikpe--with many a \"ca' canny\" to\nthe driver--and her experience brought the conviction that the\nproposal was a good one. It might be too novel a plan for the Church to\ntake up officially, but she thought wealthy men in Scotland might\nmaterialise her vision as a thank-offering.\n\n\n\n\n                       XV. STORMING THE CITADELS\n\nThe Government road went as far as Odoro Ikpe, where a Rest House, used\nas a shelter by officials on the march or on judging tours, and the one\nseen by Mr. Macgregor, had been built on the brow of a hill above the\ntownship. It was Saturday when she arrived here, and she climbed the\nascent, taking over an hour to do it, and was captivated by the\nsituation. It had the widest outlook of any spot she had seen; she\nseemed to be on the very roof of the world. A vast extent of bush\nstretched out before her, unbroken save by the white road winding down\nthe hill, and instead of the stifling stillness of the plains, a soft\nbreeze blew and cooled the atmosphere. It was five miles from Ikpe, and\nthe centre of a number of populous towns. For months past she had been\npraying for an entrance into these closed haunts of heathenism, and as\nshe sat down in the lonely little Rest House, she made up her mind not\nto move a step further until she had come to grips with the chiefs.\nKnowing that the Government would not object, she took possession of\nthe building. It had a doorway but no door; the windows were holes in\nthe wall high up under the eaves; the floor was of mud, and there was\nno furniture of any kind. But these things were of no consequence to\nthe gipsy-missionary. She slept on a camp-bed borrowed from Miss\nPeacock, the girls lay on the mud floor among the lizards, and some\npots and pans were obtained from the people until she could procure her\nown from Ikpe. The commissariat department was run on the simplest\nscale. A tin of fat, some salt and pepper, tea, and sugar, and roasted\nplantain for bread, formed the principal constituents of the frugal\nmeals. Their clothes were taken off piece by piece as each could be\nspared, and washed in a pail from the little prison yard. \"Ma's\" calico\ngown went through the process in the forenoon, was dried on the fence\nin the hot sun, and donned in the afternoon, in order, as she\nhumorously put it, to be ready for \"visitors and tea.\" In her eyes it\nwas a sort of glorified picnic. She did not pity the girls; she thought\nsuch an experience was better for them as African citizens and\nmissionaries than a secondary education.\n\nFrom this high centre as from a fort, she began to bombard the towns in\nthe neighbourhood. Next day she summoned some disciples from a place\ncalled Ndot, and service was held in the yard. Then the lads pushed her\nchair out to Ibam, two miles distant, where she met the headman and his\nfollowers. These were an arrogant, powerful sept--not Ibibios--who had\nbeen allies of the slavers of Aros, and were disliked and suspected by\nall. She told them that she wanted the question of Gospel entrance\nsettled. They looked at her indulgently. \"We have no objection to you\ncoming, Ma,\" said the chief.\n\n\"And the saving of twins, and the right of twin-mothers to live as\nwomen and not as unclean beasts in the bush?\" she asked.\n\n\"No, no, we will not have it. Our town will spoil.\"\n\nAfter much talk they said, \"Go home, Ma, and we shall discuss it and\nsee you again\"--the native way of ending a matter.\n\nHer next discussion was with the town of Odoro Ikpe itself. The old\nchief was urbane, and gave her every honour. Bringing out a plate with\n_3_s. upon it, he said, \"Take that to buy food while staying here, as\nwe have no market yet.\" She took the money, kissed it, put her hands on\nhis head, and thanked him, calling him \"father,\" but requested him to\ntake it and buy chop for the children, and she would eat with him\nanother day. The old man went away and returned with some yams, which\nhe asked her to cook and eat. As they talked he gradually lost his\nfear, and then she asked him bluntly about his attitude to the Gospel.\nHe and his big men told her frankly what their difficulties were, and\nthese she demolished one by one. After two hours' fencing and arguing\nthe tension gave way to a hearty laugh, and the old chief said, with a\nsweep of his hand toward the crowd:\n\n\"Well, Ma, there they are, take them and teach them what you like--and\nyou, young men, go and build a house for book.\"\n\n\"No!\" cried \"Ma,\" \"we don't begin or end either with a house. We begin\nand end with God in our hearts.\"\n\nA young man came forward, and without removing a quaint hat he wore,\nsaid, \"Ma, we can't take God's word if you bring twins and twin-mothers\ninto our town.\"\n\nIt was out at last. Instead of arguing, \"Ma\" looked at him as\nwitheringly as she could and replied; \"I speak with men and people\nworthy of me, and not with a puny bush-boy such as you have shown by\nyour manners you are.\"\n\nOff came the hat, and then \"Ma\" spoke to him in such a way that the\ncrowd were fain to cry:\n\n\"Ma, forgive! forgive! he does not know any better.\"\n\nThere was no more after that about twins, and when she left she felt\nthat progress had been made.\n\nStriking while the iron was hot she sent to Ikpe for school books, and\ngoing into the highways and byways, she began to coax the lads to come\nand learn. They stood aloof, half-afraid and half-scornful, and would\nnot respond. Then she adopted a flank movement, and began to speak to\nthem about the rubber and cocoa which the Government were planting in\nthe district, and tried to awaken their interest and ambitions by\ntelling them how the world was moving outside their home circle.\nGradually the sullenness gave way, and they began to ask questions and\nto chat. She took the alphabet card, but they shied at the strange-\nlooking thing, and would not speak. One little fellow who had been at\nIkpe, and knew more than the others, began tremblingly, \"A--B--,\" and\nshe and Alice who was with her, joined in until one after another\nsurrendered, and before long all were shouting the letters. By the end\nof the week the lads were coming every spare hour for lessons, and\nwould scarcely give her time to eat.\n\nThe Ikpe disciples had ruefully watched this development, and at last\nwent to her:\n\n\"Ma, we are glad you have got a footing out here, but are you forsaking\nus?\"\n\nHer heart ached at the words, and although now reduced to coming and\ngoing in her Cape cart, she determined to give them every alternate\nweek when she was not at Use. Thus from now onwards she was keeping\nthree centres going by her own efforts.\n\nAfter a week at Ikpe in fulfilment of her promise, she returned to\nOdoro Ikpe to hold the first Sabbath service. A play was being enacted\nin the town, and scores of naked young men and women were dancing to\nthe compelling throb of the drum. But some Ikpe and Ndot lads came to\nsupport the service, and their presence helped the local sympathisers\nto come forward. It was very simple; she said it would have seemed\nbabyish to Europeans, but it was an epoch to the natives. Another\nmeeting was held in the afternoon; and at night in the dark square, lit\nonly by the light of the fires where the women were cooking their meal,\nshe stood, and again proclaimed, with passionate earnestness, the love\nof God and the power of Christ to save and uplift. It was, no doubt, a\nday of small things, but she knew from long experience that small\nthings were not to be despised.\n\nA month later, when she was at Ikpe holding the services, she was\nastonished to see thirty of the Odoro Ikpe lads marching into church.\nThey had grown so interested, that they had come the five miles to hear\nher speak. The Ikpe people at once rose and gave the strangers their\nseats, finding a place for themselves on the floor. It was pathetic to\nsee their earnest faces and their ignorance as to what they should do\nduring the service, which was more elaborate than they had been\naccustomed to. Having brought some food they cooked it at the house and\nremained all day.\n\nOn her return to Odoro Ikpe the chiefs appeared one morning, and asked\nher to come out at once and survey the land, and choose a site for a\nstation. Her heart leapt at the significance of the request. She\nhappened to be in her night attire, but as it might have been full\nCourt dress for all they knew, she went and tramped over the land and\nchose what she believed would be the best situation in the Mission. It\nwas on the brow of a hill overlooking a magnificent stretch of country,\nacross which a cool breeze blew all the time. She immediately planned a\nhouse--one of six rooms--three living rooms above and stores and hall\nand girls' rooms below, with a roof of corrugated iron for security\nagainst wind and insects, and prepared to go down to Use to buy the\nmaterial.\n\nThere was one town still holding out, Ibam (where she had been told to\n\"go home and they would think about it\"), and she prayed that it, too,\nmight accept the new conditions. On the Sunday before she left for Use,\nwhile she was conducting service, six strange men came in and waited\nuntil all had gone. \"We are from Ibam,\" they said. \"Come at once, Ma,\nand we will build a place to worship God, and will hear and obey.\" She\nwas so uplifted that she seemed to live on air for the next few days.\nThe villagers of Ibam gave up their best yard to her, and, crowds came\nto the meetings.\n\nAll the citadels of heathenism in the district had now been stormed.\nSitting one night on the floor of the Rest House, her aching back\nleaning against the mud wall, a candle, stuck in its own grease, giving\nher light, she wrote to her friends in Scotland, telling them that she\nwas the happiest and most grateful woman in the world.\n\n\n\n\n                           XVI. CLARION CALLS\n\nThe discovery of coal up in the interior at Udi brought a new interest\ninto her life, for her far-seeing mind at once realised all the\npossibilities it contained. She believed it would revolutionise the\nconditions of West Africa. And when a railway was projected and begun\nfrom Port Harcourt, west of Calabar, to Udi, and there was talk of an\nextension to Itu, she sought to make her friends at home grasp the full\nsignificance of the development. That railway would become the highway\nto the interior, and Calabar would cease to be so important a port.\nGreat stretches of rich oil-palm country would be opened up and\nexploited. She urged the need for more men and women to work amongst\nthe rank heathenism that would soon collect and fester in the new\nindustrial and commercial centres. Up there also was the menace of\nMohammedanism. \"Shall the Cross or the Crescent be first?\" she cried.\n\"We need men and women, oh, we need them!\"\n\nShe had been saddened by the closing of stations for furloughs, and the\napathy of the Church at home.\n\nWe are lower in numbers in Calabar than ever--fewer, if you except the\nartisans in the Institute, than in the old days before the doors were\nopened! Surely there is something very far wrong with our Church, the\nlargest in Scotland. Where are the men? Are there no heroes in the\nmaking among us? No hearts beating high with the enthusiasm of the\nGospel? Men smile nowadays at the old-fashioned idea of sin and hell\nand broken law and a perishing world, but these made men, men of\npurpose, of power and achievement, and self-denying devotion to the\nhighest ideals earth has known. We have really no workers to meet all\nthis opened country, and our Church, to be honest, should stand back\nand give it to some one else. But oh! I cannot think of that. Not that,\nLord! For how could we meet the Goldies, the Edgerleys, the Waddells,\nthe Andersons? How can our Church look at Christ who has given us the\nprivilege of making Calabar history, and say to Him, \"Take it back.\nGive It to another?\"\n\nShe had been deeply interested In the great World's Missionary\nConference in Edinburgh in 1910, and had contrasted it with State\ndiplomacy and dreadnoughts, but was disappointed that so little\npractical result had followed. \"After all,\" she said, \"it is not\ncommittees and organisations from without that is to bring the revival,\nand to send the Gospel to the heathen at home and abroad, but the\nliving spirit of God working from within the heart.\"\n\nAll this made her more than ever convinced of the value of her own\npolicy. She believed in the roughest methods for a raw country like\nNigeria. Too much civilisation and concentration was bad, both for the\nwork and the natives. There should be, she thought, an office of\nitinerating or travelling missionary permanently attached to the\nMission. It would have its drawbacks, as, she recognised, all pioneer\nwork had, but it would also pay well. She was not sure whether the\nmissionaries did right in remaining closely to their stations, and\nbelieved that short regular expeditions into the interior would not\nonly keep them in better health, but give them a closer knowledge of\nthe people. Not much teaching could be given in this way, but their\nconfidence would be won, and the way would be prepared for further\nadvance. Her hope lay in women workers; they made better pioneers than\nmen, and as they were under no suspicion of being connected with the\nGovernment, their presence was unobjectionable to the natives. They\ncould move into new spheres and do the spade-work; enter the homes, win\na hearing, guide the people in quiet ways, and live a simple and\nnatural life amongst them. When confidence had been secured, men\nmissionaries could enter and train and develop, and build up\ncongregations in the ordinary manner.\n\nEven then she did not see why elaborate churches should be erected. She\nwas always so afraid to put anything forward save Christ, that she was\nquite satisfied with her little \"mud kirks.\" The raw heathen knew\nnothing of the Church as white people understood it. To give them a\ncostly building was to give them a foreign thing in which they would\nworship a foreign God. To let them worship in an environment of their\nown setting meant, she believed, a more real apprehension of spiritual\ntruth. The money they were trained to give, she would spend, not on\nbuildings so much as on pioneer work among the tribes.\n\nSo, too, with the Mission houses. She thought these should be as simple\nas possible, and semi-native in style; such, she believed, to be the\ndriest and most healthy. In any case disease could come into a house\ncosting \u00a3200, as into one costing \u00a320, and \"there was such a thing as\nGod's providence.\" Still, she recognised the importance of preserving\nthe health of newcomers, and admitted that her ideas might not apply to\nthem. \"It would be wrong,\" she said, \"to insist on mud-huts for a\nnervous or \u00e6sthetic person.\"\n\nIt was much the same feeling that ran through her objection to the\nnatives suddenly transforming themselves into Europeans. Her views in\nthis respect differed a good deal from those of her co-workers. One\nSunday, after a special service, a number of women who had arrayed\nthemselves in cheap European finery, boots and stockings and all,\ncalled upon her. She sat on a chair, her back to them, and merely threw\nthem an occasional word with an angry jerk of her head. They were very\nupset, and at last one of them ventured to ask what was the matter.\n\"Matter!\" she exclaimed, and then spoke to them in a way which brought\nthem all back in the afternoon clothed more appropriately.\n\nOn all these questions she thought simply and naturally, and not in\nterms of scientific theory and over-elaborated system. She believed\nthat the world was burdened and paralysed by conventional methods. But\nshe did not undervalue the \u00e6sthetic side of existence. \"So many think\nthat we missionaries live a sort of glorified glamour of a life, and\nhave no right to think of any of the little refinements and elegancies\nwhich rest and sooth tired and overstrained nerves--certainly\ncoarseness and ugliness do not help the Christian life, and ugly things\nare not as a rule cheaper than beautiful ones.\" Her conviction was that\na woman worth her salt could make any kind of house beautiful. At the\nsame time she believed--and proved it in her own life--that the spirit-\nfilled woman was to a great extent independent of all accessories.\n\nWhat always vexed her was to think of thousands of girls at home living\na purposeless life, spending their time in fashionable wintering-\nplaces, and undergoing the strenuous toil of conventional amusement.\n\"Why,\" she asked, \"could they not come out here and stay a month or six\nmonths doing light work, helping with the children, cheering the staff?\nWhat a wealth of interest it would introduce into their lives!\" She\ndeclared it would be better than stoning windows, for she had no\npatience with the policy of the women who sought in blind destruction\nthe solution of political and social evils. \"I'm for votes for women,\nbut I would prove my right to it by keeping law and helping others to\nkeep it. God-like motherhood is the finest sphere for women, and the\nway to the redemption of the world.\"\n\nMany a clarion call she sent to her sisters across the waters:\n\n\"Don't grow up a nervous old maid! Gird yourself for the battle outside\nsomewhere, and keep your heart young. Give up your whole being to\ncreate music everywhere, in the light places and in the dark places,\nand your life will make melody. I'm a witness to the perfect joy and\nsatisfaction of a single life--with a tail of human tag-rag hanging on.\nIt is rare! It is as exhilarating as an aeroplane or a dirigible or\nwhatever they are that are always trying to get up and are always\ncoming down!... Mine has been such a joyous service,\" she wrote again.\n\"God has been good to me, letting me serve Him in this humble way. I\ncannot thank Him enough for the honour He conferred upon me when He\nsent me to the Dark Continent.\"\n\nOver and over again she put this idea of foreign service before her\nfriends at home. Some were afraid of a rush of cranks who would not\nobey rules and so forth. She laughed the idea to scorn. \"I wish I could\nbelieve in a crush--but there are sensible men and women enough in the\nChurch who would be as law-abiding here as at home.\"\n\n\n\n\n                           XVII. LOVE-LETTEBS\n\nDuring the course of her career Miss Slessor wrote numberless letters,\nmany of them productions of six, ten, twelve, and fourteen pages,\nclosely penned in spidery writing, which she called her \"hieroglyphic\nstyle.\" She had the gift, which more women than men possess, of\nexpressing her ideas on paper in as affluent and graceful a way as in\nconversation. Her letters indeed were long monologues, the spontaneous\noutpouring of an active and clever mind. She sat down and talked\nvivaciously of everything about her, not of public affairs, because she\nknew people at home would not understand about these, but of her\nchildren, the natives, her journeys, her ailments, the services, the\npalavers, all as simply and naturally and as fully as if she were\naddressing an interested listener. But it was essential that her\ncorrespondent should be in sympathy with her. She could never write a\nformal letter; she could not even compose a business letter in the\nordinary way. Neither could she write to order, nor give an official\nreport of her work. The prospect of appearing in print paralysed her.\nIt was always the heart and not the mind of her correspondent that she\naddressed. What appeared from time to time in the _Record_ and in the\n_Women's Missionary Magazine_, were mainly extracts from private\nletters, and they derived all their charm and colour from the fact that\nthey were meant for friends who loved and understood her. In the same\nway she would be chilled by receiving a coldly expressed letter. \"I\nwish you hadn't said _Dear Madam_,\" she told a lady at home. \"I'm just\nan insignificant, wee, auld wifey that you would never address in that\nway if you knew me. I'll put the _Madam_ aside, and drag up my chair\nclose to you and the girls you write for, and we'll have a chat by the\nfireside.\"\n\nShe could not help writing; it was the main outlet for her loving\nnature, so much repressed in the loneliness of the bush. Had she not\npossessed so big and so ardent a heart, she would have written less.\nInto her letters she poured all the wealth of her affection; they were\nin the real sense love-letters; and her magic gift of sympathy made\nthem always prized by the recipients. She had no home people of her\nown, and she pressed her nearest friends to make her \"one of the\nfamily.\" \"If,\" she would say, \"you would let me share in any\ndisappointments or troubles, I would feel more worthy of your love--I\nwill tell you some of mine as a counter-irritant!\" Many followed her\nbehest with good result. \"I'm cross this morning,\" wrote a young\nmissionary at the beginning of a long letter, \"and I know it is all my\nown fault, but I am sure that writing to you will put me in a better\ntemper. When things go wrong, there is nothing like a talk with you....\nNow I must stop, the letter has worked the cure.\" Her letters of\ncounsel to her colleagues when they were in difficulties with their\nwork were helpful and inspiring to the highest degree. On occasions of\ntrial or sorrow she always knew the right word to say. How delicately,\nfor instance, would she try to take the edge off the grief of bereaved\nfriends by describing the arrival of the spirit in heaven, and the glad\nwelcome that would be got there from those who had gone before. \"Heaven\nis just a meeting and a homing of our real selves. God will never make\nus into new personalities. Everlasting life--take that word _life_ and\nturn it over and over and press it and try to measure it, and see what\nit will yield. It is a magnificent idea which comprises everything that\nheart can yearn after.\" On another occasion she wrote, \"I do not like\nthat petition in the Prayer Book, _From sudden death, good Lord deliver\nus_. I never could pray it. It is surely far better to see Him at once\nwithout pain of parting or physical debility. Why should we not be like\nthe apostle in his confident outburst of praise and assurance, 'For I\nam persuaded...'?\" Again: \"Don't talk about the cold hand of death--it\nis the hand of Christ.\"\n\nIt was not surprising that her correspondence became greater at last\nthan she could manage. The pile of unanswered communications was like a\nmillstone round her neck, and in these latter days she began to violate\nan old rule and snatch time from the hours of night. Headings such as\n\"10 P.M.,\" \"Midnight,\" \"8.45 A.M.,\" became frequent, yet she would give\nlove's full measure to every correspondent, and there was seldom sign\nof undue strain. \"If my pen is in a hurry,\" she would say, \"my heart is\nnot.\" When she was ill and unable to write, she would simply lie in bed\nand speak to her Father about it all.\n\nThere was a number of friends to whom she wrote regularly, and whose\nrelations to her may be judged from the manner in which they began\ntheir letters. \"My lady of Grace,\" \"My beloved missionary,\" \"Dearest\nsister,\" were some of the phrases used. But her nature demanded at\nleast one confidante to whom she could lay bare her inmost thoughts.\nShe needed a safety-valve, a city of refuge, a heart and mind with whom\nthere would be no reservations, and Providence provided her with a kind\nof confessor from whom she obtained all the understanding and sympathy\nand love she craved for. This was Miss Adam, who, while occasionally\ndiffering from her in minor matters of policy, never, during the\nfifteen years of their friendship, once failed her. What she was to the\nlonely missionary no one can know. Mary said she knew without being\ntold what was in her heart, and \"how sweet,\" she added, \"it is to be\nunderstood and have love reading between the lines.\" Month by month she\nsent to Bowden the intimate story of her doings, her troubles, hopes,\nand fears, and joys, and received in return wise and tender counsel and\nencouragement and practical help. She kept the letters under her pillow\nand read and reread them.\n\nNever self-centred or self-sufficient, she depended upon the letters\nthat came from home to a greater extent than many of her friends\nsuspected. She needed the inflow of love into her own life, and she\nvalued the letters that brought her cheer and stimulus and inspiration.\nOnce she was travelling on foot, and had four miles of hill-road to go,\nand was feeling very weary and depressed at the magnitude of the work\nand her own weakness, when a letter was handed to her. It was the only\none by that mail, but it was enough. She sat down, and in the quiet of\nthe bush she opened it, and as she read all the tiredness fled, the\nheat was forgotten, the road was easy, and she went blithely up the\nhill.\n\nOutside the circle of her friends many people wrote to her from\nScotland, and some from England, Canada, and America. Boys and girls\nwhom she had never seen sent her letters telling her of their cats and\ndogs, of football, and lessons and school. With her replies sometimes\nwent a snake skin, a brass tray, a miniature paddle, or other curio.\nBut it was the letter, rather than the gift, that was enjoyed. As one\ngirl wrote; \"You are away out helping the poor black kiddies and\npeople, and just as busy doing good as possible, and yet you've time to\nsend a letter home to a little Scottish girl, a letter fragrant with\neverything lovely and good, that makes one try harder than ever to do\nright, and that fills one's heart with beautiful helpful thoughts.\"\n\nTo her own bairns, wherever they were, she wrote letters full of\nhousehold news and gentle advice. To Dan at the Institute she wrote\nregularly--very pleased she was when she heard he had been at lectures\non bacteria and understood them!--and when Alice and Maggie were\ninmates of the Edgerley Memorial School she kept in the closest touch\nwith them. Here is a specimen of her letters, written chiefly in Efik,\nand addressed apparently to Alice:\n\nMY PRECIOUS CHILDREN--I am thinking a lot about you, for you will soon\nbe losing our dear Miss Young; and while I am sorry for myself I am\nsorrier for you and Calabar. How are you all? and have you been good?\nand are you all trying to serve and please Jesus your Lord? Whitie has\ngone to sleep. She has been making sand and y\u00f6\u00f1\u00f6-ing my bedroom, the\nbit that you did not finish. Janie has y\u00f6\u00f1\u00f6-d the high bits, so Whitie\nis very tired. Janie has gone to stay all night with the twin-mother\nand her baby in the town where Effiom used to live long ago. One baby\nwas dead, but she is keeping the other, and the chief says, \"Ma, you\nare our mother, but what you have done will be the death of us.\" But I\ntell them just to die.\n\nThe mother almost died. One child was born dead, and Janie and I stayed\nall night there. Mary is at Ikot Ekpene. We saw her as we passed in the\nmotor. The whole town came to-day and put splendid beams in the\nverandah both in front and behind, swept all behind, and put on a\ncorrugated iron roof, did the porch and various other things, and the\nsafe.\n\nGood-bye. Are you well? We are well, through God's goodness. Are you\ncoming soon for holidays? My heart is hungry to see you and to touch\nyour hands. Greetings to Ma Fuller. Greet Ma Wilkie and Mr. Wilkie for\nme. Greet each other. All we greet you. With much love to Maggie, Dan,\nAsuqu\u00f6,--I am, in all my prayers, your mother,\n  M. Slessor.\n\n\nThe girls and Dan also wrote regularly to her in Efik--such letters as\nthis:\n\nI am pleased to send this little letter to you. Are you well? I am\nfairly well through the goodness of God. Why have you delayed to send\nus a letter? Perhaps you are too busy to write, but we are coming home\nin a fortnight. If you hear we are on the way come quickly out when you\nhear the voices of the people from the beach, because you know it will\nbe us. Greet Whitie, Janie, Annie and all, and accept greeting from\nyour loving child\n  MAGGIE.\n\n\nAfter her death there was found at Use a bundle of papers, evidently\nmuch treasured, labelled \"My children's letters.\"\n\n\n\n\n                         XVIII. A LONELY FIGURE\n\nShe returned to Use, but only remained long enough to arrange for the\nmaterial for the house at Odoro Ikpe. Of the special difficulties that\nwould beset her on this occasion, she was quite aware. The timber\nsupply on the ground was scarce, transport would be expensive, there\nwas no local skilled labour, and she was unable to work with her own\nhands, while it was not easy to procure carriers and other work-people,\nsince the Government, with the consent of the chiefs, were taking\nbatches of men from each village for the coalfields and railway, a\nmeasure she approved, as it prevented the worst elements in the\ncommunity drifting there. But nothing ever discouraged her, and she\nreturned at the end of April and embarked once more, and for the last\ntime, on building operations.\n\nFriends kept tempting her to come to Scotland. Her friend Miss Young\nwas now Mrs. Arnot, wife of the Rev. David Arnot, M.A., Blairgowrie,\nand from her came a pressing invitation to make her home at the manse.\n\"I will meet you at Liverpool,\" Mrs. Arnot wrote, \"and bring you\nstraight here, where you will rest and be nursed back to health again.\"\nIt was proposed that Alice should come with her, and be left at\nBlairgowrie while Mary visited her friends. She was delighted, and\nwrote gaily that when she did come she \"would not be a week-end visitor\nor a tea visitor, but a barnacle. It is, however, all too alluring. One\nonly thing can overtop it, and that is duty as put into my hands by my\nKing.\" Then she paints a picture of the piles of timber and corrugated\niron about her for the building of a house, \"for the happy and\nprivileged man or woman who shall take up the work of salvage,\" and of\nIkpe waiting patiently, and the towns surrendering on all sides, and\nadds, \"Put yourself in my place, and with an accession of strength\ngiven since I camped up here, how could you do other than I have done?\nI verily thought to be with the Macgregors, but this came and the\nstrength has come with it, and there must be no more moving till the\nhouse is up, when I hope and pray some one will come to it. What a\nglorious privilege it all is! I can't think why God has so highly\nhonoured and trusted me.\"\n\nShe entered on a period of toil and tribulation which proved to be one\nof the most trying and exacting in her life. The house itself was a\nsimple matter. Large posts were inserted in the ground, and split\nbamboos were placed between; cross pieces were tied on with strips of\nthe oil-palm tree, and then clay was prepared and pounded in. But fifty\nmen and lads were employed, and she had never handled so lazy, so\ngreedy, so inefficient a gang. Compelled to supervise them constantly,\nshe often had to sit in the fierce sunshine for eight hours at a time;\nthen with face unwashed and morning wrapper still on she would go and\nconduct school. If she went to Ikpe for a day, all the work done\nrequired to be gone over again. Sometimes she lost all patience, and\nresorted to a little \"muscular Christianity,\" which caused huge\namusement, but always had the desired effect. But she was very\nphilosophical over it. \"It is all part of the heathen character, and,\nas Mrs. Anderson used to say, 'Well, Daddy, if they were Christians\nthere would have been no need for you and me here.'\" Jean often became\nvery wroth, and demanded of the people if \"Ma\" was not to obtain time\nto eat, and if they wanted to kill her?\n\nAnnie and her husband had been placed at Nkanga, and Jean now managed\nthe household affairs. The faithful girl had her own difficulties in\nthe way of catering, for on account of the isolation money frequently\nran done, and she could not obtain the commonest necessities to feed\nher \"Ma.\" An empty purse always worried Mary, but it was a special\ntrial to her independent and sensitive spirit at this period, for she\nwas in debt to the skilled carpenter who had been engaged, and to the\nlabourers, and was compelled to undergo the humiliation of borrowing.\nOn one occasion she obtained a loan of 5s. from one of her rare\nvisitors, a Government doctor, a Scot and a Presbyterian, who was\ninvestigating tropical diseases, and who, finding her in the Rest\nHouse, had contentedly settled down with his microscopes in the Court\nHouse shed. After working all day in the bush he spent many evenings\nwith her, and she was much impressed by his upright character, and his\nkindness and courtesy to the natives, and said matters would be very\ndifferent in Africa if all civil and military men were of the same\nstamp. The only other two visitors she had at this time were Mr. Bowes,\nthe printer at Duke Town, and Mr. Hart, the accountant, the latter\nbringing her all the money she needed.\n\nBy the end of July the house was roughly built, and she was able to\nmount up to the top rooms by means of a \"hen\" ladder, and there on the\nloose, unsteady boards she sat tending her last motherless baby, and\nfeeling uplifted into a new and restful atmosphere. A pathetic picture\nshe made, sitting gazing over the wide African plain. She had never\nbeen more isolated, never felt more alone.\n\n    So lonely 'twas, that God Himself\n    Scarce seemed there to be.\n\nShe was without assistance, her body was broken and pitifully weak, and\nyet with dauntless spirit and quenchless faith she looked hopefully to\nthe future, when those infant stations about her would be occupied by\nconsecrated men and women.\n\n\n\n\n                      XIX. When the Great War Came\n\nInto the African bush, the home of many things that white men cannot\nunderstand, there was stealing a troubled sense of mystery. The air was\nelectric with expectation and alarm. Impalpable influences seemed\nfighting the feeble old woman on the lonely hill-top. She was worried\nby transport difficulties. What the causes were she did not know, but\nthe material did not come, and as she was paying the carpenter a high\nwage she was compelled to dismiss him. What work there was to do she\nattempted to accomplish with her own thin, worn hands.\n\nIn the early days of August the natives began to whisper to each other\nstrange stories about fighting going on in the big white world beyond\nthe seas. News came from Calabar that the European firms had ceased to\nbuy produce: canoes which went down river for rice and kerosene,\nreturned again with their cargoes of nuts and oil. She wondered what\nwas happening. Then excited natives came to her in a panic, with tales\nof a mad Europe and of Britain fighting Germany. She pooh-poohed the\nrumours and outwardly appeared calm and unafraid in order to reassure\nthem, but the silence and the suspense were unbearable. On the 13th she\nreceived letters and heard of the outbreak of the war. All the\npossibilities involved in that tremendous event came crowding upon her\nmind, the immense suffering and sorrow, and, not least to her, the\nperil to Calabar. Nigeria was conterminous with the Cameroons, and she\nknew the Germans well enough to anticipate trouble. The cost of\narticles, too, she realised, would go up, and as she had little food in\nthe house she at once sent to the market for supplies. Already prices\nwere doubled. Her kerosene oil gave out, and she had to resort to\nlighted firewood to read at prayers.\n\nShe went on bravely with the routine duties of the station--Dan, who\nwas now with her, helping in the school--but she longed impatiently\nfor news, \"Oh, for a telegram,\" she would cry, \"even a boy bawling in\nthe street!\" The officer at Ikot Ekpene, knowing her anxiety, sent over\nthe latest intelligence, but she half suspected that he kept back the\nworst. The worst came in her first war mail which arrived when she was\nsitting superintending operations at the house. She read why Britain\nhad entered the conflict and exclaimed, \"Thank God! our nation is not\nthe aggressor.\" Then came the story of the invasion of Belgium and the\nreverses of the Allies. Shocked and sad she essayed to rise, but was\nunable to move. The girls ran to her aid and lifted her up, but she\ncould not stand. Exerting her will-power and praying for strength she\ndirected the girls to carry her over to the Rest House and put her to\nbed. Ague came on, and in half an hour she was in a raging fever which\nlasted, with scarcely an interval, for a fortnight. She struggled on\namidst increasing difficulties and worries, the horrors of the war with\nher night and day. Her old enemy, diarrhoea, returned, and she steadily\nweakened and seemed entering the valley of the shadow. She did not fear\ndeath, but the thought of passing away alone in the bush troubled her,\nfor her skull might be seized and be worshipped as a powerful juju by\nthe people.\n\nAt last she lay in a stupor as if beyond help. It was a scene which\nsuggested the final act in Dr. Livingstone's life. The girls were\ncrying. The church lads stood alarmed and awed. Then they raised her in\nher camp-bed and marched with her the five miles to Ikpe. Next morning\nthey lifted the bed into a canoe and placed her under a tarpaulin and\npaddled her down the Creek. They landed at Okopedi beach, where she lay\nin the roadway in the moonlight, scarcely breathing. The agent of a\ntrading-house brought restoratives and sent for Dr. Wood, then at Itu,\nwho accompanied her to Use and waited the night as he feared she would\nnot recover. All through the hours her mind was occupied with the war\nand the soldiers in the trenches.\n\nNext day she was a little better, but would not hear of going to Itu to\nbe cared for there. To her Use was home where the children could\nminister to her, but realising her lack of strength she sent a message\nto Miss Peacock asking her to come over. Miss Peacock said to her\nfellow-worker, \"Ma must be very ill before she would send for any one,\"\nand she cycled to Use at once. Mary confided to her that it might be\nthe end, and \"Oh,\" she exclaimed, \"if only the war were over and my\nchildren safe in the Kingdom, how gladly would I go!\" She called the\nbairns to her and told them what to do in the event of her death. Like\nall natives in the presence of serious illness they were greatly upset\nand wept bitterly, but as the disorder passed they began to think that\nshe would get better, and went about their duties, Jean to her\nmarketing, and Alice to the care of the house, with Whitie to help,\nwhile Maggie looked after the baby.\n\nThe shadow of the war continued to darken her heart. She agonised for\nthe cause which her native land had taken up, and many a cry went up to\nGod on its behalf in the hour of trial. Miss Peacock remained several\nnights, and returned to Ikotobong with a strong presentiment that \"Ma\"\nwas not to be long with them, and she and Miss Couper arranged to keep\nin touch with her as closely as possible.\n\nAs she plodded on towards strength and as better news arrived about the\nwar situation she began to be more like herself and take up her old\nduties. For a time she lay in the verandah on a deck chair; and then\nwent to the church, conducted the Sunday services, but was obliged to\nsit all the time and lean her body against the communion-table. Yet in\nthe midst of her weakness and suffering she had always a bright laugh\nand a word of encouragement for others. Reluctantly she came to the\nconclusion that nothing would heal her but a voyage home and as she was\nlonging for a few more hours--it was not years now--of work she made up\nher mind to face it, and to include in her furlough a visit to the\ngraves of her mother and sister at Exeter. The difficulty of the east\nwind in Scotland was overcome by a proposal from Mrs. Arnot, who in the\nmystery of things, had suddenly been bereft of her husband, that she\nwould take a small house where they could live together in quiet. \"I\nshall meet you,\" that lady wrote, \"and make a home for you and care for\nyou if God puts it into your heart to come.\" The wonderful kindness of\nthe offer brought tears to her eyes and she consented with a great\ncontent. Her plan was to return to Odoro Ikpe, complete the house, and\nleave for Scotland early in the spring; and she asked Miss Adam to send\nher a hat and boots and other articles which civilisation demanded. Her\nonly regret was at leaving her people and specially those at Ikpe. \"It\nis ten years since I first took them on, and they have never got a\nteacher yet. It is bitterly hard!\" Miss Peacock and Miss Couper\nnoticed, however, that the old recuperative power which had always\nsurprised them was gone, and one day she said that she had been\noverhauling her desk and tearing up letters in case anything should\nhappen.\n\nThe tragedy of the war came home personally to her. Two of her official\nfriends, Commander G. Gray and Lieutenant H. A. Child, C.M.G., were\nserving in the Navy and were both drowned by the capsizing of a whaler\nwhen crossing the bar at the entrance to the Nyong River. \"They were my\noldest and most intimate friends here, capable, sane Empire-builders,\"\nand she sorrowed for them with a great sorrow. Sometimes her old\nfighting spirit was roused by the news of the deeds of the enemy. \"Oh\nif I were thirty years younger, and if I were a man! ... We must not\nhave peace until Germany licks the dust and is undeceived and stricken\nonce for all.\" Her comments brought out the fact that she had followed\nEuropean events very closely during the past thirty years, whilst her\nletters to her faint-hearted friends in Scotland showed her usual\ninsight:\n\nGod does not mean you and me to carry the burden, and German soldiers\nare flesh and blood and must give out by-and-by, and they cannot create\nnew armies, and with long-drawn out lines of battle on East and West\nthey can't send an army that could invade Britain. They could harass,\nthat's all, and our women are not Belgians; they would fight even\nGerman soldiers. Yes! they would stand up to William the Execrated.\nMoreover, Zeppelins can do a lot of hurt, but they can't take London;\nand Ostend and Antwerp are no nearer Britain for any kind of air attack\nthan Berlin is, and above all our perspective is doubtless better than\nyours--any one can see that to try and take towns and to fight in\nstreets filled with civilians has not a pennyworth of military value.\nIt is a sheer waste of energy and life which should have been utilised\non the armies and strongholds of a country. Brussels, Bruges, Antwerp,\neven Paris, had they got it, would be a mere blare of trumpets, a flash\nin the pan, a spectacular show, and if they took Edinburgh or London or\nAberdeen, it would be the same, they would still have to reckon with a\nnation or nations. It has all been a mistake for their own downfall,\nand they will clear out of Belgium poorer than they entered it. Haven't\nthe East Indians done nobly? Bravo our Allies!\n\nShe had now fallen into calmer mood. \"Miss Slessor,\" she would say\nseverely to herself, \"why do you worry? Is God not fit to take care of\nHis own universe and purpose? We are not guilty of any aggression or\nlust of conquest, and we can trust Him to bring us through. He is not\nto be turned aside from the working out of His purpose by any War\nLord.\" She always fell back on the thought, \"The Lord reigneth\" as on a\nsoft pillow and rested there. Writing one morning at 6 o'clock she\ndescribed the beauty of the dawn and the earth refreshed and cooled and\nthe hope and the mystery of a new day opening out, and contrasted it\nwith the darkness and cold and fog experienced by the army and navy.\n\"God is always in the world,\" she said; \"the sunshine will break out\nand light will triumph.\" And she did not ignore the deeper issues, \"May\nour nation be sent from its pleasures to its knees, and the Church be\nawed and brought back to Him.\"\n\nOn Christmas Day a service was held at which she intimated the opening\nof the subscription list for the Prince of Wales' Fund. She did not\nlike to speak of war among Christian nations to natives; but it was\ncurrent history, and she made the best explanation she could, though\nshe was glad to turn their thoughts to the day of National Intercession\non the following Sabbath. Dan acted as interpreter in the evening to\nMr. Hart, who gave an address.\n\nTo a friend she wrote:\n\nThere will be few merry Christmasses in Europe this year. But, thank\nGod, there will be a more profound sense of all Christ came to be and\ndo for mankind, and a closer union and communion between Him and His\npeople, through the sadness and insufficiency of earthly good. He will\nHimself draw near, and will fill empty chairs in lonely homes and\nhearts, and make His people--aye--and thousands who have not sought Him\nin prosperity--to know that here and now He is the Resurrection and the\nLife, that he that believeth in Him shall never die.\n\nOn New Year's Day Miss Peacock and Miss Couper went to spend the\nafternoon with her, and the former writes:\n\nAccording to old-time customs I had made her her favourite plum-pudding\nand sent it over with a message that we meant to come to tea on New\nYear's Day. On our arrival the tea-table was set, and the plum-pudding\nwith a rose out of the garden stuck on the top was on the table. Miss\nSlessor was as happy as a girl, and said she had to exercise self-\ncontrol to keep from tasting the pudding before we arrived. And we had\na merry meal. Then, when we left, she had to escort us to the end of\nthe road. A new tenderness seemed to have come into her life, and with\nregard to those with whom she differed, she seemed to go out of her way\nto say the kindest things possible. She spoke to me of something she\nhad written which she had torn up and said, \"I wonder I could have been\nso hard.\" It was not difficult to see the last touches of the Master's\nhand to the life He had been moulding for so many years.\n\n\n\n\n                  XX. THE TIME OF THE SINGING OF BIRDS\n\nAt the turn of the year her thoughts were again with her mother who had\npassed away then, twenty-nine years before. She was feeling very weak,\nbut read and wrote as usual. Her last letter to Miss Adam told, amongst\nother things, of the previous day's service and how Annie's little girl\nwould run about the church and point to her and call to her--\"I can't\nsay 'Don't bring her' for there should be room enough for the babies in\nour Father's house.\" Her closing words to her old friend were, \"God be\nwith you till we meet again.\" Even in her feeble state she was always\nthinking of others. David had taken his wife to Lagos, and her vivid\nimagination conjured up all the dangers of the voyage, and she was\nanxious for their safety. In the same letter in which she speaks of\nthem, written on the 5th, she pours out sympathy and comfort to a lady\nfriend in Edinburgh whose two sons had joined the Forces.\n\nMy heart bleeds for you, my dear, dear friend, but God's love gave the\nmother heart its love and its yearning over its treasures, so He will\nknow how to honour and care for the mother, and how to comfort her and\nkeep her treasures for her. Just keep hold on Him, dear one, and put\nyour boys into His hand, as you did when they were babies. He is able\nto keep them safe in the most difficult and dangerous situations. I am\nconstantly praying with you, and with others of my friends, who, just\nas you, are giving up their dearest and most precious at the call of\nDuty. God can enrich them and you and all the anxious and exposed ones\neven through the terrible fires. In God's governance not one precious\nthing can ever be lost.\n\nOn Friday the 8th she sat on a deck-chair in the little garden outside\nthe door enjoying the sunshine, for the harmattan wind was cold, and\nwriting some letters. The last she penned was to Mrs. Arnot, in which\nshe said she was better though \"a wee shade weaker than usual.\" It was\nnever finished, and was found, later, on her pad. The final words were:\n\"I can't say definitely whether I shall yet come in March--if I be\nspared till then ...\"\n\nIn the afternoon there was a recurrence of fever. Alice tended her\nunceasingly, seldom leaving her bedside, and stretching herself, when\nin need of rest, on a mat beside the bed. She was a great comfort to\nMary. On Sunday spirit again dominated body; she struggled up, went\nover to the church, and conducted service. Next day she was suffering\nacutely from diarrhoea and vomiting, and one of the girls went to\nIkotobong and summoned Miss Peacock, who immediately cycled over.\n\n\"I got a messenger,\" says Miss Peacock, \"and sent him to Itu stating\nthe symptoms, and asking Dr. Robertson to come and see her. All the\nafternoon the vomiting and diarrhoea continued until Dr. Robertson\narrived. He had secured some ice at one of the factories, and gave her\nsome medicine, and both the diarrhoea and vomiting were stopped. All\nthe afternoon there had been a great restlessness and weariness, and\nunless to ask for something she seldom spoke. Her mails were brought\ninto the room by one of the girls, but she took no notice of them. She\nwas moved from her bed on to her chair, and back again several times,\nbut did not seem to be able to rest anywhere; then she would give a\ngreat cry of weariness as if she were wearied unto death.\n\n\"As the evening wore on she became quieter, but had a great thirst, and\nbegged that a little bit of the ice might be put into her mouth. She\nhad a very quiet night, without any recurrence of the former symptoms,\nand I thought she was somewhat better, until the morning revealed how\nexhausted she was. The old restlessness began again, and I got a lad\nfrom the school to take a message over to Itu to Dr. Robertson. My\nreport was that Miss Slessor had had a quiet night, but was suffering\nfrom extreme exhaustion. The doctor sent over some medicine with\ninstructions, and she seemed again to be able to lie quietly. Once when\nI was attending to her she said, 'Ma, it's no use,' and again she\nprayed, 'O _Abasi, sana mi yok_' ('O God release me'). As I fed her\nwith milk or chicken soup, she would sometimes sign to me, or just say\n'Ma.' A lonely feeling came into my heart, and as I had to send a\nmessage to Ikotobong, I asked Miss Couper to cycle over in the\nafternoon. She stayed all the afternoon, and when she left Miss Slessor\nwas still quiet, and her pulse was fairly good. This was the 12th.\n\n\"The girls--Janie, Annie, Maggie, Alice, and Whitie--were all with me,\nand we made our arrangements for the night-watch. It was not a grand\nroom with costly furnishings; the walls were of reddish-brown mud, very\nroughly built; the floor was of cement, with a rug here and there, and\nthe roof corrugated iron. Besides the bed, washhand-stand, and a chair\nor two, there was a chest of drawers which had belonged to her mother,\nand in which was found all that was needed for the last service. Her\ngreatness was never in her surroundings, for she paid little attention\nto these, but in the hidden life which we caught glimpses of now and\nthen when she forgot herself and revealed what was in her mind with\nregard to the things that count.\n\n\"As the hours wore on, several times she signed to us to turn her, and\nwe noticed that her breathing was becoming more difficult. It was a\nvery dark night, and the natives were sound asleep in their houses, but\nI sent off two of the girls to rouse two men to go to Itu; and we\nwaited anxiously the coming of the doctor. A strange uneasiness seemed\nto come upon us. All the girls were round the bedside, and now and then\none or two would begin to weep. The clock had been forgotten, and we\ndid not know the time. A cock crew, and one of the girls said, 'Day\nmust be dawning,' but when I drew aside the curtain there was nothing\nbut pitch darkness. It was not nearly daybreak, and we felt that the\ndeath-angel was drawing very near. Several times a change passed over\nthe dear face, and the girls burst out into wild weeping; they knew\nonly too well the sign of the dread visitor. They wished to rush away,\nbut I told them they must stay, and together we watched until at 3.30\nGod took her to Himself. There was no great struggle at the end; just a\ngradual diminishing of the forces of nature, and Ma Akamba, 'The Great\nMother,' entered into the presence of the King.\"\n\nAnd so the long life of toil was over. \"The time of the singing of\nbirds,\" she used to say, \"is where Christ is.\" For her, now, the winter\nwas past, the rain was over and gone, the time of the singing of birds\nhad come....\n\nWhen the girls realised that she was gone, they gave way to their\ngrief, and lamented their position in the world. \"My mother is dead--my\nmother is dead--we shall be counted as slaves now that our mother is\ndead.\" The sound of the weeping reached the town and roused the\ninhabitants from their slumbers. Men and women came to the house and\nmingled their tears with those of the household. They sat about on the\nsteps, went into the bedroom and gazed sorrowfully on the white still\nface of her whom they regarded as a mother and friend. As the news was\npassed on, people came from Itu and the district round, to see in death\nher who had been _Eka kpukpru owo_, \"Everybody's Mother.\"\n\nAs soon as Mr. Wilkie received the telegram announcing the end, he\nobtained a launch and sent it up with the Rev. W. M. Christie, B.A.,\nwho, Mr. Macgregor being at home, was in charge of the Institute. While\nit was on the way an English and an Efik service were being held at\nItu. The launch arrived at 5.30 P.M., the coffin was placed on board,\nand the return voyage begun. It was midnight ere Duke Town was reached,\nand the body rested at Government Beach until dawn. There the mourners\ngathered. Government officials, merchants, and missionaries, were all\nthere. The boys of the Institute were drawn up on the beach, policemen\nwere posted in the streets, and the pupils of Duke Town school\ncontinued the line to the cemetery. All flags flew at half-mast, and\nthe town was hushed and still. Great crowds watched the procession,\nwhich moved along in silence. The coffin was draped with the Union\nJack, and was carried shoulder high by the boat boys, who wore black\nsinglets and mourning loin-cloths, but no caps.\n\nAt the cemetery on Mission Hill stood a throng of natives. Old Mammy\nFuller who had loved Mary so much, sat alone at the top of the grave.\nWhen the procession was approaching she heard some women beginning to\nwail, and at once rose. \"_Kutua oh, kutua oh_,\" she said. \"Do not cry,\ndo not cry. Praise God from whom all blessings flow. Ma was a great\nblessing.\"\n\nA short and simple service was conducted by Mr. Wilkie and Mr. Rankin,\nand some of the native members led the singing of \"_When the day of\ntoil is done_,\" and \"_Asleep in Jesus_.\" The coffin was lowered by\neight of the teachers of Duke Town School, and lilies and other flowers\nwere thrown upon it. Mammy Fuller uttered a grateful sigh. \"Safe,\" she\nmurmured. One or two women wept quietly, but otherwise there was\nabsolute silence, and those who know the natives will understand the\nrestraint which they imposed upon themselves. Upon the grave were\nplaced crosses of purple bougainvillea and white and pink frangipanni,\nand in the earth was planted a slip from the rose bush at Use, that it\nmight grow and be symbolic of the fragrance and purity and beauty of\nher life.\n\n\"Ma,\" said Mammy Fuller to Mrs. Wilkie when all was over, \"I don't know\nwhen I enjoyed anything so much; I have been just near heaven all the\ntime.\"\n\n\n\n\n                       XXI. TRIBUTE AND TREASURE\n\nMany tributes were paid to the dead pioneer. As soon as Sir Frederick\nLugard, the Governor-General of Nigeria, heard of the event he\ntelegraphed to Mr. Wilkie: \"It is with the deepest regret that I learn\nof the death of Miss Slessor. Her death is a great loss to Nigeria.\"\nAnd later came the formal black-bordered notice in the Government\n_Gazette_:--\n\nIt is with the deepest regret that His Excellency the Governor-General\nhas to announce the death at Itu, on 18th January, of Miss Mary\nMitchell Slessor, Honorary Associate of the Order of the Hospital of\nSt. John of Jerusalem in England.\n\nFor thirty-nine years, with brief and infrequent visits to England,\nMiss Slessor has laboured among the people of the Eastern Provinces in\nthe south of Nigeria.\n\nBy her enthusiasm, self-sacrifice, and greatness of character she has\nearned the devotion of thousands of the natives among whom she worked,\nand the love and esteem of all Europeans, irrespective of class or\ncreed, with whom she came in contact.\n\nShe has died, as she herself wished, on the scene of her labours, but\nher memory will live long in the hearts of her friends, Native and\nEuropean, in Nigeria.\n\nTestimony regarding her qualities and work was given in Scotland by the\nMission Committees of the United Free Church, by officials,\nmissionaries, and others who knew her, and by the Press, whilst from\nmany parts of the world came notices of her career which indicated how\nwidely known she had been. The appreciation which would perhaps have\npleased her most was a poem written by a Scottish girl, fifteen years\nof age, with whom she had carried on a charming correspondence--\nChristine G. M. Orr, daughter of Sheriff Orr, Edinburgh. She would,\ndoubtless, have had it included in any notice of her work, and here,\ntherefore, it is given:\n\nTHE LAMENT OF HER AFRICAN CHILDREN\n\nShe who loved us, she who sought us\n Through the wild untrodden bushlands,\n Brought us healing, brought us comfort,\n Brought the sunlight to our darkness,\n She has gone--the dear white Mother--\n Gone into the great Hereafter.\n\n\nNever more on rapid waters\n Shall she dip her flashing paddle,\n Nor again the dry leaves rustle\n 'Neath her footstep in the forest,\n Never more shall we behold her\n Eager, dauntless on her journeyings.\n\n\nNow the children miss their teacher,\n And the women mourn their helper;\n And the sick, the weak, the outcast\n Long that she once more might touch them,\n Long to hear her speaking comfort,\n Long to feel her strong hand soothing.\n\n\nMuch in loneliness and danger,\n Fevered oft, beset with trouble,\n Still she strove for us, her children;\n Taught us of the great good Spirit,\n He who dwells beyond the sunrise;\n Showed to us the love He bears us,\n By her own dear loving-kindness;\n Told us not to fear the spirits,\n Evil spirits in the shadows,\n For our Father-God is watching,\n Watching through the cloudless daytime,\n Watching at the silent midnight,\n So that nothing harms His people;\n Taught us how to love each other,\n How to care for little children\n With a tenderness we knew not,\n How, with courtesy and honour,\n To respect the gentle women,\n Nor despise them for their weakness,\n But, as wives and mothers, love them.\n\n\nThus she taught, and thus she laboured;\n Living, spent herself to help us,\n Dying, found her rest among us.\n Let the dry, harsh winds blow softer\n And the river's song fall lower,\n While the forest sways and murmurs\n In the mystery of evening,\n And the lonely bush lies silent,\n Silent with a mighty sorrow.\n\n\nOh! our mother--she who loved us,\n She who lost herself in service,\n She who lightened all our darkness,\n She has left us, and we mourn her\n With a lonely, aching sorrow.\n May the great good Spirit hear us,\n Hear us in our grief and save us,\n Compass us with His protection\n Till, through suffering and shadow,\n We with weary feet have journeyed\n And again our mother greets us\n In the Land beyond the sunrise.\n\n\nBoth the Calabar Council and the Women's Foreign Mission Committee in\nScotland felt that the most fitting memorial to her would be the\ncontinuation of her work, and arrangements were accordingly made for\nthe appointment and supervision of teachers and evangelists at Use,\nIkpe, and Odoro Ikpe, and for the care of the children. It was also\ndecided to realise her settlement scheme and call it \"The Mary Slessor\nHome for Women and Girls,\" with a memorial missionary in charge, and\nlater an appeal for a capital sum of \u00a35000 for the purpose was issued.\nIt would have pleased Mary to know that the lady chosen for the\nposition of memorial missionary was her old colleague Mrs. Arnot. She\nhad worked hard and waited long for the accomplishment of this idea,\nand she may yet, from above, see of the travail of her soul and be\nsatisfied....\n\nBy and by her more special possessions were collected and sent home. If\nshe had been an ordinary woman one might have expected to see a\ncollection of the things that a lady likes to gather about her; the\ndainty trinkets and souvenirs, the jewellery and knicknacks that have\npleasant associations connected with them. When the little box arrived\nit was filled less with these than with pathos and tears. It held\nmerely a few much-faded articles, one or two Bibles, a hymn-book (the\ngift of some twin-mother at home), an old-fashioned scent-bottle, a\npebble brooch, hair bracelet, two old lockets, and her mother's ring--\nall these were evidently relics of the early days--a compass, and a\nfountain pen.\n\nBut there also came a large packet of letters, those received during\nher last years, which revealed where her treasures on earth were\nstored--in a multitude of hearts whose love she had won. They were from\nmen in Nigeria--Government officials, missionaries, and merchants--\nfrom men and women in many lands, from the mothers and sisters of the\n\"boys\" to whom she had been kind, from Church officials, from children\n--all overflowing with affection and admiration and love. She had often\ncalled herself a \"rich woman.\" One learned from these letters the\nreason why.\n\n\n\n\n                         XXII. SEEN AND UNSEEN\n\nMiss Slessor had a sure consciousness of her limitations, and knew she\nwas nothing but a forerunner, who opened up the way and made it\npossible for others to come in and take up the work on normal lines.\nBoth in the sphere of mission exploration and in the region of ideas\nshe possessed the qualities of the pioneer,--imagination, daring,\npatience,--and like all idealists she met with opposition. It was not,\nhowever, the broad policy she originated that was criticised, so much\nas matters of detail, and no doubt there was sometimes justification\nfor this. She admitted that she had no gifts as an organiser, and when\nshe engaged in constructive work it was because there was no one else\nto do it.\n\nWhat she accomplished, therefore, cannot be measured only by the\nvisible results of her own handiwork. The Hope Waddell Institute was\nthe outcome of her suggestions, and from it has gone out a host of lads\nto teach in schools throughout the country, and to influence the lives\nof thousands of others. She laid the foundations of civilised order in\nOkoyong, upon which regular church and school life has now been\nsuccessfully built. When she unlocked the Enyong Creek, some were\namused at the little kirks and huts she constructed in the bush, and\nasked what they were worth--just a few posts plastered with mud, and a\nsheet or two of corrugated iron. But they represented a spiritual force\nand influence far beyond their material value. They were erected with\nher life-blood, they embodied her love for her Master and for the\npeople, they were outposts, the first dim lights in the darkness of a\ndark land, they stood for Christ Himself and His Cross. And to-day\nthere exist throughout the district nearly fifty churches and schools\nin which the work is being carried on carefully and methodically by\ntrained minds. The membership numbers nearly 1500, and there is a large\nbody of candidates and enquirers and over 2000 scholars. The remarkable\nprogress being made in self-support may be gathered from the following\nfigures taken from the accounts of the five Creek congregations for\n1914:\n\n                  Members   Income   Cash in bank\n Itu  . . . .       109   \u00a3113  9  4   \u00a397 13 6\n Okpo  . . . .      101     76  7  7    62 16 8\n Asang . . . .      428    184 17 10   865 13 6\n Obufa Obio (Chief\n  Onoyom) . . .     118    118 16 10   736 19 4\n Ntan Obu . . .     111     83 11  9   204 1  2\n\n\nAll these churches and others that she began are spreading the Gospel\nnot only by direct effort, but also by means of their members as they\ntrade up and down the country.\n\nOne cannot estimate the value of her general influence on the natives;\nit extended over an area of more than 2000 square miles, from all parts\nof which they came to seek her help and advice, whilst her fame reached\neven to Northern Nigeria, where she was spoken of as the \"good White Ma\nwho lived alone.\" To West Africans, a woman is simply a chattel to be\nused for pleasure and gain, but she gave them a new conception of\nwomanhood, and gained their reverence and confidence and obedience.\nAlthough she came to upset all their ideas and customs, which\nrepresented home and habit and life itself to them, they loved her and\nwould not let the wind blow on her. She thus made it easy for other\nwomen agents to live and work amongst them; probably there is no\nsimilar mission field where these can dwell in such freedom and safety.\nAnd through her womanhood she gave them some idea of the power and\nbeauty of the religion which could make that womanhood possible. Her\ninfluence will not cease, for in the African bush, where there are no\ndaily newspapers to crowd out events impressions, and tradition is\ntenacious, she will be remembered in hut and harem and by forest camp\nfire, and each generation will hand down to the next the story of the\nGreat White Mother who lived and toiled for their good.\n\nUpon the Mission staff her example acted like a tonic. Her tireless\nenergy, her courage, her enthusiasm, were infectious and stimulating,\nto the highest degree, and stirred many to action. Such an inspiring\nforce is a valuable asset in a tropical land, where everything tends to\nlanguor and inertia. And in Scotland her influence was also very great.\nRound her name and work gathered a romance which deepened and widened\ninterest in the missionary enterprise of the Church. Her career\ndemonstrates how important is the personal touch and tie in sustaining\nand increasing the attraction of the work abroad. By the spell of her\npersonality she was able to draw support not only from large numbers of\npeople within her own Church, but from many outside who had little\nthought or for missions. It was because she not a mere name on a list,\nbut a warm, living, inspiring, human presence. For while she was great\nas a pioneer and worker, she was equally great as a woman.\n\n\n\n\n                        XXIII. THE ALABASTER Box\n\nBut the interest in Nigeria on the part of the home people as a whole\nwas never enough for Miss Slessor. It was largely an interest in\nherself and her work, and she wanted rather the larger vision which\nwould realise the possibilities of that great field, and endeavour to\nconquer it for the Master. The general indifference on the subject was\na deep disappointment to her. But it had always been so.\n\nThe story of Calabar is one of the most thrilling in the history of\nmissions, yet through it also there runs an undercurrent of tragedy--\nthe tragedy of unseized opportunities and unfulfilled hopes. As one\nreads, he can fancy that he is standing by a forest at night listening\nto the sound that the wind brings of a strange conflict between a few\nbrave spirits, and legions of wild and evil forces, with incessant\ncries for help. From the first days of the Mission, urgent appeals for\nmore workers have constantly been made; there is scarcely a year that\nthe men and women on the spot have not pressed its urgent needs upon\nthe home Church, but never once has there been an adequate response.\nTo-day, as always, the staff is pitifully small. To minister to the\nneeds of the many millions within the area assigned to the Church,\nthere are only eighteen European missionaries, three medical\nmissionaries, and thirteen women agents, apart from the wives of the\nmarried missionaries. In Duke Town and Okoyong, on the Cross River and\nthe Enyong Creek, and far up at Uburu, the city of the salt lakes, all\nthe stations are undermanned, and the medical men are overwhelmed by\nthe thousands of patients who flock to them to be healed.\n\nWhat Mary Slessor did, other women are doing in the same spirit of\nselflessness and courage, but with the same sense of powerlessness to\novertake what is required. The number of these women agents does not\nappreciably increase, for, while fresh appointments are continuously\nbeing made, there are usually more changes amongst them than amongst\nthe men missionaries, on account of resignations from ill-health or\nmarriage. Yet in Nigeria women have unlimited opportunities for the\nemployment of their special gifts.\n\nThe remarkable feature of the situation is that the Mission is face to\nface with an open door. It is not a question of sitting down in the\nmidst of a religiously difficult and even hostile community as in India\nor China, and waiting patiently for admission to the hearts of the\npeople, but of entering in and taking possession. The natives\neverywhere are clamouring for teachers and missionaries, education,\nenlightenment, and they are clamouring in vain. The peril is that under\nthe new conditions governing the country, they will be lost to the\nChristian Church. With freer intercommunication, Islam is spreading\nsouth. All Mohammedans are missionaries, and their religion has\npeculiar attractions for the natives. Already they are trading in the\nprincipal towns, and in Arochuku a Mullah is sitting, smiling and\nexpectant, and ingratiating himself with the people. Here the position\nshould be strengthened; it is, as Miss Slessor knew, the master-key to\nthe Ibo territory, for if the Aros are Christianised, they will carry\nthe evangel with them over a wide tract of country.\n\nMiss Slessor's life shadowed by the consciousness of how little had\nbeen done, as well as by the immensity of what was still to do. Making\nevery allowance for the initial difficulties that had to be overcome,\nand the long process of preparing the soil, the net result of seventy\nyears' effort seemed to her inadequate. There is only a Christian\ncommunity of 10,800, and a communion-roll of 3412, and the districts\ncontiguous to the coast have alone been occupied, whilst no real\nimpression has been made on the interior. Over the vast, sun-smitten\nland she wept, as her Master wept over the great city of old, and she\ndid what she could--no woman could have done more--to redeem its\npeople, and sought, year in, year out, to make the Church rise to the\nheight of its wonderful opportunity--in vain.\n\nShe knew, however, that the presentation of startling facts and figures\nalone would never rouse it to action; these might touch the conscience\nfor a moment, but the only thing that would awaken interest and keep it\nactive and militant would be a revival of love for Christ in the hearts\nof the people; and it was for this she prayed and agonised most of all.\nFor with it would come a more sympathetic imagination, a warmer faith,\ngreater courage to go forward and do the seemingly impossible and\nfoolish thing. It would, she knew, change the aims and ideals of her\nsisters, so many of them moving in a narrow world of self, and thrill\nthem with a desire to take part in the saving and uplifting of the\nworld. There would be no need then to make appeals, for volunteers\nwould come forward in abundance for the hardest posts, and consecrated\nworkers would fill up the ranks in Nigeria and in all the Mission\nFields of the Church.\n\nShe knew, because it was so in her case. Love for Christ made her a\nmissionary. Like that other Mary who was with Him on earth, her love\nconstrained her to offer Him her best, and very gladly she took the\nalabaster box of her life and broke it and gave the precious ointment\nof her service to Him and His cause.\n\nMany influences move men and women to beautiful and gallant deeds, but\nwhat Mary Slessor was, and what she did, affords one more proof that\nthe greatest of these is Love.\n\nTHE END","title":"Mary Slessor of Calabar: Pioneer Missionary","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":134212}