But in every man's lot must be some crook, since this crooked world turned round.

In Parson Upround's lot the crook might seem a very small one; but he found it almost too big for him.

His dignity and peace of mind, large good-will of ministry and strong Christian sense of magistracy, all were sadly pricked and wounded by a very small thorn in the flesh of his spirit.
Almost every honest man is the rightful owner of a nickname.

When he was a boy at school he could not do without one, and if the other boys valued him, perhaps he had a dozen.

And afterward, when there is less perception of right and wrong and character, in the weaker time of manhood, he may earn another, if the spirit is within him.
But woe is him if a nasty foe, or somebody trying to be one, annoyed for the moment with him, yet meaning no more harm than pepper, smite him to the quick, at venture, in his most retired and privy-conscienced hole.
And when this is done by a Nonconformist to a Doctor of Divinity, and the man who does it owes some money to the man he does it to, can the latter gentleman take a large and genial view of his critics.
This gross wrong and ungrateful outrage was inflicted thus.