He was holding a
missive in his hand.
"John Winthrop," I answered. I was wondering what it was all about.
"Were you born in America?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Is your family an honored one in your country?"
"It is," I answered proudly.
"Then, why in heaven's name do you scribble?" cried the King.
"In my country one may have an honored name and still be compelled to
earn a competence."
"Ah, yes! After all, scribbling is better than owning a shop." This
is the usual argument of Kings. "Can you trace your pedigree very far
back?" the King proceeded.
"My ancestors came over in the Mayflower," said I.
"The Mayflower?" said the King, puzzled.
"All the Americans," explained the Chancellor, "went over in the
Mayflower. The ark and the Mayflower were the largest ships ever put
to sea, Your Majesty." To hide his smile, the Chancellor passed over
to the window and began drawing pictures on the frosted panes.
Continued the King: "If you loved one of my countrywomen, would you be
willing to sacrifice your own country? I mean, would you be willing to
adopt mine, to become a naturalized citizen, to uphold its laws, to
obey the will of its sovereign, and to take up arms in its defense?"
My knees began to knock together.
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