“Dear Mr. Cudworth,—I am so weak, I am scarce able to write my name.
“J. Hervey.”
“Weston-Favel, December 16, 1758.
“Madam,—I have received your ladyship’s favour, and should have answered it before now; but I have been extremely ill, and still remain so bad, as to be obliged to make use of the pen of another, to inform your ladyship, that I am,
“Madam, your ladyship’s most obliged, and most obedient, humble servant,
“J. Hervey.”
Nine days afterwards, Hervey was a corpse. To his curate, the Rev. Abraham Maddock, he observed,—
“O! how much Christ has done for me; and how little have I done for Him! If I preached even once a week, it was at last a burden to me. I have not visited the people of my parish as I ought to have done, I have not taken every opportunity of speaking for Christ. But, do not think, that, I am afraid to die; I assure you I am not. I know what my Saviour hath done for me, and I want to be gone.”
On December 20th, being visited by his friend Dr. Stonehouse, he remarked,—