e one she liked most and knew
better than any was the Bible. She pored over it so often that she
remembered much of it by heart. In the Bible Class she was so quick and
so ready to answer questions that Mr. Baxter, her minister, used to say,
"Now, Mary Slessor, don't answer any more questions till I bid you."
When every one else failed he would turn to her with "Now, Mary," and
she always had her reply ready. She was never tired of the story of
Jesus, especially as it is told in the Gospel of St. John, for there He
appeared to her so kind and winsome and lovable. When she thought of all
He did, how He came from His own beautiful heaven to save the world from
what is sinful and sad, and how He was made to suffer and at last was
put to death, and how His teaching has brought peace and safety and
sunshine into the lives of millions of women and girls, she felt she
must do something for Him to show her love and thankfulness and
devotion.

"He says we must do as He did and try to make people better and
happier, and so I, too, must do my best and join in the war against all
that is evil and unlovely and unrestful in the world." So she thought to
herself.

She did not say, "I am only a girl, what can I do?" She knew that when a
General wanted an army to fight a strong enemy he did not call for
officers only, but for soldiers--hosts of them, and especially for those
who were young. "I can be a soldier," Mary said humbly. "Dear Lord, I
will do what I can--here are my heart and head and hands and feet--use
me for anything that I can do."

The first thing that she did was to take a class of little girls in the
Sunday School, and thus she began to teach others before she was
educated herself, but it is not always those who are best trained who
can teach best. The heart of Mary was so full of deep true love for
Jesus that it caused her face to shine and her eyes to smile and her
lips to speak kind words, and that is the sort of learning that wins
others to Him.

Wishart Church, to which she went, was built over shops, and looked down
upon the old Port Gate and upon streets and lanes which were filled at
night with big boys and girls who seemed to have no other place to go
to, and nothing to do but lounge and swear and fight. Mary felt she
would like to do something for them. By and by when a Mission was begun
in a little house in Queen Street--there is a brass inscription upon
the wall, now, telling about Mary--she went to the