cometh part of Soul and Brain.
Look round the World in which you dwell
Nor, Snail-like, live within your Shell;
And if you see His World aright
The Lord shall grant you double Sight.
For, though your Mind and Soul be small,
If you but open them to all
The great wide World, they will expand
Those glorious Things to understand.
When Heart and Brain are great with Love
Man is most like the Lord above.
Look up to Him with patient Eye
Not on your own Infirmity.
In pious Trust yourself forget
For others only toil and fret,
Since all we do for fellow Men
With right good Will, shall be our Gain.
What if the Folk should call you Fool
Care not, but act by Virtue's Rule,
Contempt and Curses let them fling,
God's Blessing shields you from their Sting.
Grey is my Head but young my Heart;
In Nuremberg, ere I depart,
Children and Grandchildren, for you
I write this Book, and it is true."

MARGERY SCHOPPER.

Below the verses the text of the narrative began with these words: "In
the yere of our Lord M/CCCC/lx/VI dyd I begynne to wrtre in thys lytel
Boke thys storie of my lyf, as I haue lyued it."

It was in her sixty-second year that the writer had first begun to note
down her reminiscences. This becomes clear as we go on, but it may be
gathered from the first lines on the second page which begins thus:

"I, Margery Schopper, was borne in the yere of our Lord M/CCCC/IV on
a Twesday after 'Palmarum' Sonday, at foure houris after mydnyght.
Myn uncle Kristan Pfinzing was god sib to me in my chrystening. My
fader, God assoyle his soul, was Franz Schopper, iclyped the Singer.
He dyed on a Monday after 'Laetare'--[The fourth Sunday in Lent.]--
Sonday M/CCCC/IV. And he hadde to wyf Kristine Peheym whyche was my
moder. Also she bare to hym my brethren Herdegen and Kunz Schopper.
My moder dyed in the vigil of Seint Kateryn M/CCCC/V. Thus was I
refte of my moder whyle yet a babe; also the Lord broughte sorwe
upon me in that of hys grace He callyd my fader out of thys worlde
before that ever I sawe the lyght of dai."

These few lines, which I read in the little antiquary's shop, betrayed
me to my ruin; for, in my delight at finding the daily journal of a
German housewife of the beginning of the