"He may deem himself a minion of fortune," courteously replied the
stranger addressed as Sir Christopher, grasping the offered hand, "who
either in this far wilderness or in the proud streets of London, is
privileged to exchange salutations of friendship with so worthy and
every way accomplished a gentleman as the honored chief magistrate of
this colony."

"Alas! I fear," rejoined Winthrop, taking a seat, after first formally
seating the other, "alas! I fear that my shoulders are too weak for so
great a burden. Were it not for the prize of the high calling set
before me, and the sweet refreshment sometimes breathed into me by the
Spirit, I should faint beneath its weight."

"We are commanded neither to faint nor to be weary of well-doing,"
said Sir Christopher, "with comfortable assurances that as is our
need, so shall our strength be. But, honored sir, I much mistake the
nobility of your mind, if you would be willing to exchange your high
place for a meaner lot. I thank God that you are placed upon an
eminence to be a tower of strength to those who do well, and a terror
to the evil."

"Better," replied Winthrop, "is the humble cottage than the lordly
structure whereunto your poetical and extravagant politeness hath
likened me. Remember," he added, with a smile, wherein there was some
bitterness mingled with its melancholy, for he had of late been
annoyed by the rougher nature of Dudley, and the jealousy of some of
the Assistants, "_altoe turres cadunt dum humiles casoe stant_."

"Noble sir," said Sir Christopher, "be not cast down. The foundations