would read this letter to my people, and if they would
profit by it. And now I write to thee, whoever thou art, O poor broken-
hearted believer of the free salvation. Let Christ's atoning blood be on
thy guilty soul. Christ has His heaven ready for thee, and He will make
good His word before long. The blessing of a poor prisoner be upon you.'

Salvation was all this time proving itself to be a hard and ever harder
task to John Gordon, with his proud neck, with his past life to read,
with his debts and bonds and increasing expenditure, and with old age
heavy upon him and death at his door. And Lady Cardoness was not finding
her salvation to be easy either in all these untoward circumstances.
'Think it not easy,' wrote Rutherford to her. And to make her salvation
sure, and to lead her to help her burdened husband with his hard task,
Rutherford made bold to touch, though always tenderly and scripturally,
upon the family cross. Their burdened and crowded estate lay between the
whole Cardoness family and their salvation. Rutherford had seen that
from the first day he arrived in Anwoth, and Cardoness and its
difficulties lay heavy upon his heart in his prison in Aberdeen. And he
could not write consolations and comforts and promises to Lady Cardoness
till he had told her the truth again as he had told her husband. 'The
kingdom of God and His righteousness is the one thing needful for you and
for Cardoness and for your children,' wrote Rutherford. 'Houses, lands,
credit, honour may all be lost if heaven is won. See that Cardoness and
you buy the field where the pearl is. Sell all and buy that field. I
beseech you to make conscience of your ways. Deal kindly with your
tenants. I have written my mind at length to your husband, and my
counsel to you is that, when his passion overcometh him, a soft answer
will turn away wrath. God casteth your husband often in my mind; I
cannot forget him.'

What a power for good is in Samuel Rutherford's pen! At a few touches it
carries us across Scotland to the mouth of the Fleet, and back two
hundred and fifty years, and summons up Cardoness Castle, and peoples the
hoary old keep again with John Gordon and his wife and children. We see
the castle; we see the rack-rented farms lying around the rock on which
the castle stands; we see Anwoth manse and pulpit empty and silenced; and
then we see Rutherford dreaming about Cardoness as he sleeps in his far-
off prison. The stout o