Brother, I restrain myself for want of time. Pray for me; I hope to remember you. The good-will of Him who dwelt in the bush, the tender mercies of God in Christ, enrich you. Grace be with you. Yours, in his sweet Lord Jesus, S. R. ABERDEEN, _March 14, 1637_. CLIII.--_To_ BETHAIA AIRD. [The name _Aird_ is not uncommon in the history of the Church. _Mr. Wm. Aird_ was a noted minister in Edinburgh in Livingstone's days. Wodrow's "History" mentions _Aird of Muirkirk_, and also _John Aird_ of Milton. In the memoir of Walter Pringle of Greenknow, we find _James Aird_ was his intimate friend. But whether this correspondent was related to any of them, we know not. She may have been simply an Anwoth parishioner.] (_UNBELIEF UNDER TRIAL--CHRIST'S SYMPATHY AND LOVE._) WORTHY SISTER,--Grace, mercy, and peace be unto you. I know that ye desire news from my prison, and I shall show you news. At my first entry hither, Christ and I agreed not well upon it. The devil made a plea in the house, and I laid the blame upon Christ; for my heart was fraughted with challenges, and I feared that I was an outcast, and that I was but a withered tree in the vineyard, and but held the sun off the good plants with my idle shadow, and that, therefore, my Master had given the evil servant the fields, to send him. Old guiltiness (as witness) said, "All is true." My apprehensions were with child of faithless fears, and unbelief put a seal and amen to all. I thought myself in a hard case. Some said I had cause to rejoice that Christ had honoured me to be a witness for Him; and I said in my heart, "These are words of men, who see but mine outside, and cannot tell if I be a false witness or not." If Christ had in this matter been as wilful and short as I was, my faith had gone over the brae, and broken its neck. But we were well met,--a hasty fool, and a wise, patient, and meek Saviour. He took no law-advantage of my folly, but waited on till my ill-blood was fallen, and my drumbled and troubled well began to clear. He was never a whit angry at the fever-ravings of a poor tempted sinner; but He mercifully forgave, and came (as it well becometh Him), with grace and new comfort, to a sinner who deserved the contrary, And now He is content to kiss my black mouth, to put His hand into mine, and to feed me with as many consolations as would feed ten hungry souls. Yet I dare not say that He is a waster of comforts, for no less would have borne me up; one grain-weight less would have casten the balance.