PERHAPS Mary Slessor little guessed how sorely her faith and patience were to be tried in the mission room that had been opened not far from the Cowgate, or how by its disappointments and difficulties she was to be trained for her life work on the West Coast of Africa.
“Yes, there was danger outside,"she wrote in after years," for though the children came in good numbers, a gang of rough, lawless youths set themselves to break up the mission, and left no means untried to carry out their purpose." When the teachers appeared some of the older men formed a kind of body-guard, and did their utmost to get the younger and weaker ones safely through the crowd, who hooted, yelled, and threw mud and sometimes stones.
Open-air preaching was begun. It was dangerous; but a little band of brave, earnest workers for Christ, of whom Mary was one, had faith and courage for it. One night a gang of the wildest of the youths closed round her. The leader carried a leaden weight at the end of a piece of cord, and began to swing it round her. Mary never winced or moved. He came nearer and nearer still, but she stood her ground. At last it almost grazed her forehead, but she did not show any sign of fear. "She's game, boys," and the lead was dropped, and the whole band followed her into the hall, where her influence and kind, pleasant manner shaped them into something like order and attention.
Many years afterward, in one of her bush huts in Africa, a photograph hung on its mud wall of a man, his wife and family. The man was the tormentor of early days, who had been converted, was doing well as a business man, and had sent her the photograph in grateful remembrance of that night which had been, he said, "the turning-point in my life.”
One night a youth, whose wild ways had made him the terror of the neighborhood, stood outside with a whip, driving the boys and girls into the mission room, but refusing to go in himself. Mary faced him. "If we changed places, what would happen?" she asked.
“I should get the whip across my back," he said.
Mary turned her back to him, saying, "I'll bear it for you if you'll go in.”
“You don't mean it, do you?" he asked in surprise.
“Yes, I do, try me.”
He threw down the whip and went with her into the hall. That night he was converted, and became her firm friend and faithful helper.
A love of all growing and living things was a strongly marked feature in her character. She did not get many half-holidays, but when she did, few things gave her greater pleasure than being able to take a class of boys or girls out into the fields, where they could breathe a purer air than that of the crowded courts in which they lived; or as they gathered a bunch of daisies or a spray of rowan berries, to learn from their teacher many a long-to-be-remembered lesson of the wisdom and goodness of God.
When an early Sunday morning meeting for lads was started, Mary did not plead the long hours she worked on week-days, or the early rising that was a needs-be to enable her to take a large share in the work of the house before going to the factory, but entered with her whole heart into the work. On cold winter mornings she would often rise before daylight, and flitting through dark archways and narrow passages would knock at the lads' doors, telling them she should look out for them at the meeting, and should feel disappointed if they were not at the mission room in time for the opening hymn; and they very seldom failed to rally in answer to her summons.
For fourteen years Mary worked at the loom for ten hours on five days a week and a half-day on Saturdays. Most of her evenings she spent in teaching various classes in the night school, and yet she found or made time to improve her own education, which she felt had been far from good. All through those busy years the dream of her childhood to be a missionary was taking shape and form till it became a settled purpose. She thought and prayed much over it, but for a long time did not speak of her desire to any of her friends.
As both her younger sisters were like herself employed in the weaving shed and were earning good wages, her help was not so much needed at home as it had been during the long years of struggle and hardship the family had known; and when she asked her mother if she would be willing, should the way open, for her to become a missionary, Mrs. Slessor gave a glad consent even though it may have been a tearful one.
Perhaps the death of Mary's only brother may have deepened her desire to become a missionary. He had been converted at a very early age, and had looked forward to preaching the gospel in Africa himself as his life-work; but his health broke down, and acting upon the advice of the doctors he undertook a voyage to New Zealand, but died a week after reaching that country. Both she and her mother felt the loss keenly, but soon after she confided her desire to go to the far-off mission field to one or two trusted christian friends. They encouraged her to go forward. She offered herself for foreign service, and was accepted as a missionary for Calabar on the west coast of Africa, though it was thought it would be well for her to spend some months in training at the Normal School in Edinburgh before setting out.