led from the Cowgate into tall tenements with outside spiral stairs
which opened upon a maze of landings and homes. Out of these sunless
rookeries tides of young life poured by night and day, and spread over
the neighbouring streets in undisciplined freedom. Mary's heart often
ached for these boys and girls, whom she loved in spite of all their
roughness; and when a mission was determined on, and a room was taken
at 6 Queen Street--a small side thoroughfare nearly opposite Quarry
Pend, one of the worst of the alleys--she volunteered as a teacher. And
so began a second period of stem training which was to serve her well
in the years to come. The wilder spirits made sport of the meetings and
endeavoured to wreck them. "That little room," she wrote, "was full of
romantic experiences." There was danger outside when the staff
separated, and she recalled how several of the older men surrounded the
"smaller individuals" when they faced the storm. One of these was Mr.
J. H. Smith, who became her warm friend and counsellor.

As the mission developed, a shop under the church at the side of
Wishart Pend was taken and the meetings transferred to it, she having
charge of classes for boys and girls both on Sundays and week-nights.
Open-air work was at that time dangerous, but she and a few others
attempted it: they were opposed by roughs and pelted with mud. There
was one gang that was resolved to break up the mission with which she
had come to be identified. One night they closed in about her on the
street. The leader carried a leaden weight at the end of a piece of
cord, and swung it threateningly round her head. She stood her ground.
Nearer and nearer the missile came. It shaved her brow. She never
winced. The weight crashed to the ground. "She's game, boys," he
exclaimed. To show their appreciation of her spirit they went in a body
to the meeting. There her bright eyes, her sympathy, and her firmness
shaped them into order and attention....