But we've done with him, and I think he with us.
When I had read thus far, I laid down the letter, unable to go on; the accumulated misfortunes of one I loved best in the world, following so fast one upon another, the insult--unprovoked, gratuitous insult--to him upon whom my hopes of future happiness so much depended, completely overwhelmed me.

I tried to continue.

Alas, the catalogue of evils went on; each line bore testimony to some farther wreck of fortune, some clearer evidence of a ruined house.
All that my gloomiest and darkest forebodings had pictured was come to pass; sickness, poverty, harassing unfeeling creditors, treachery, and ingratitude were goading to madness and despair a spirit whose kindliness of nature was unequalled.

The shock of blasted fortunes was falling upon the dying heart; the convictions which a long life had never brought home--that men were false and their words a lie--were stealing over the man upon the brink of the grave; and he who had loved his neighbor like a brother was to be taught, at the eleventh hour, that the beings he trusted were perjured and forsworn.
A more unsuitable adviser than Considine, in difficulties like these, there could not be; his very contempt for all the forms of law and justice was sufficient to embroil my poor uncle still farther; so that I resolved at once to apply for leave, and if refused, and no other alternative offered, to leave the service.

It was not without a sense of sorrow bordering on despair, that I came to this determination.