own door, helping the women to sew and cook,
teaching the children in school, preaching on week-days and Sundays, and
doctoring all who were ill. It was a marvel she kept at it so long.
Perhaps it was because she had such a happy spirit, saw the funny side
of things, and laughed at her troubles. She was always ready with a
joke, even when lying ill in bed, and missionaries who went to see her
usually found her as lively as a girl.

At this time she lived in a way that would have killed any other white
person. She did not wear a hat or boots or stockings; she went about
thinly clad; she ate the coarse food of the natives; and although she
was careful about the water she drank she did not filter or boil it, as
all white people have to do in the Tropics. It made life simpler and
easier, she said, not to bother about such things. How she did it no one
knew; the secret lay between her and God.

Even she, however, gave in at last. She became so ill that she was taken
to Duke Town a wreck and carried on board the steamer and sent home.
Janie again went with her, a woolly-headed lassie with velvet skin, and
eyes that were always ready to laugh. She was beginning now to think
that it would be a fine thing to be a white girl. One night, in a house
in Glasgow when she was being bathed, she took the sponge and began to
scrub the soles of her feet, which were whiter than the rest of her
body. "Why are you doing that, Janie?" she was asked. "Oh, because the
white place is getting bigger, and if I scrub perhaps I'll be all white
some day!"

At this time Ma was dreaming another of her dreams. She wanted to see a
place in Calabar where black boys could learn to use their hands as
well as their heads, and so be able to become good workmen and teachers,
and help to build up their country and make it rich and prosperous. She
wrote a long letter to the Church magazine telling about her idea, and
it was thought to be so good that the Church did what she asked it to
do, and started a school which has grown into the great Hope-Waddell
Training Institution, where boys are being taught all sorts of things.

Made strong by the home air and the love of new and kind friends, Ma
fared forth again to her lonely outpost in the African backwoods.

The people of Ekenge were glad to see their white mother back, and
confessed that they did not seem able to do without her. They came to
her like children with all their troubles and sorrows, and she list