ed to fail her, and to the very last days of her life, her mind was active in her favourite pursuit.
Lady Huntingdon was rather above the middle size, her mien dignified, her address particularly pleasing, and her mind acute, diligent, and indefatigable. She was so little given to self-indulgence, that a friend used to say, she was one of the poor who lived upon her own bounty. Her temper was warm and sanguine; no disappointment quenched her zeal, no labours slackened, no opposition discouraged, or progress of years abated—but her prejudices and partialities were sometimes fantastic. From the success attending her efforts, she seemed impressed with an idea that a particular benediction would rest upon whomsoever she sent forth, and was impatient of contradiction. That simplicity and truth which will always secure esteem from the wise, appears to have gained Lady Huntingdon the respect of many who disagreed with her in principle. Her son, who was unfortunately of the infidel school, still highly reverenced his venerable mother.
At her death, Lady Huntingdon left her chapels to trustees and executors for the continuance of the same plan, which is still pursued, though the property she left for that purpose was seized, on her death, by the Americans of Georgia and Carolina, where it lay.
Her unbounded benevolence bore the best testimony of the purity of her intentions, having, in the course of her life, expended above one hundred thousand pounds in public and private acts of charity.
