The young lady referred to in this extract, was the daughter of Lady Gertrude Hotham. Hervey had frequently visited her in her last sickness, and, on one occasion, had administered to her the Lord’s supper. Hence the following to the Countess of Huntingdon:— “I had the pleasure of perusing your ladyship’s letter to Mr. Whitefield, and return my grateful acknowledgments for your condescension in inquiring after me. My kind patroness, Lady Chesterfield, and many honourable persons, whose names, I trust, are written in the book of life, are very desirous for your ladyship’s return to the great city. I have lately expounded, and administered the ordinance, at good Lady Gertrude Hotham’s. Her daughter is ripening fast for glory. I had but little conversation with her, for she is too weak to endure much fatigue. When speaking of God’s stupendous love, in giving His only Son for our salvation, and of our interest in the all-sufficient propitiation of His death, I quoted these portions of Scripture.—‘He came into the world to save sinners;’ ‘He poured out His soul for transgressors.’ ‘Yes,’ said Miss Hotham, who had been listening with singular attention; ‘He died, the just for the unjust; He suffered death upon the cross, that we might reign with Him in glory.’ On a subsequent visit, I found her much altered for the worse, as respected her bodily health. Mr. Whitefield had been to see her the preceding day, and has since gone to erect the joyful standard at Portsmouth. Blessed be God, she enjoyed much peace and tranquillity of mind, and a firm persuasion, that God was her reconciled Father, and the blessed Redeemer her all-sufficient portion. I expect to hear every day of her abundant entrance into the joy of her Lord. Good Lady Gertrude, and all her noble relatives and friends, are wonderfully supported in this trying affair.” Hervey was already employed in writing another book. He was slowly dying, but to be idle was impossible. Hence, the following:— “_December 20, 1750._ “MY VERY DEAR FRIEND,—Your letter found me, after a considerable delay in its passage, where do you think? Where I never expected to go any more,—found me at London! Prevailed on by the repeated importunity of my friends, I came by easy stages to town, in order to try whether change of air may be of any service to my decayed constitution: for my worthy physician, Dr. Stonehouse, has declared that nothing which he can prescribe, is likely to administer any relief. “You inquire about my new work, intended for the press. It is a great uncertainty whether my languid spirits and enfeebled constitution will permit me to execute my design. It is a pleasure, however, to hear that I am sometimes admitted to converse with you by my book.”