In summing up this letter, let me say that it would be vain in me to deny the fact that I feel the decisions of my Presbytery with uncommon pain. Few things have cut me deeper than those acts. The public should know that, in no single instance, have we differed in anger. I ever looked forward to meetings of Presbytery with genuine delight; and now, that I have discovered the venom of a secret malice, of envy, and of jealousy, it pains me to the quick. When, therefore, I was treated with boisterous coarseness, with silly contemptuousness, with smooth, affected patronage, and with sullen silence, I was so confounded as nearly to be unmanned at the time. Nor have I recovered from the surprise yet. It pains me to lose my faith in my brethren’s integrity, when I perceive the numbness of moral sensibility at the approach of righteousness. Nor am I ashamed to weep over the disappointment I have gone through, when the friend upon whom I relied “has lifted up his heel against me.”