s head with me, so that the old name shall be handed down;
Ann's oldest daughter, Margery Schopper, having married one Berthold Im
Hoff, who is now my worthy partner.

The sons of the elder Margery, the young Waldstromers, had much in them
of the hasty Schopper temper, and a voice for song; and all three have
done well, each in his way. Herdegen is now the Hereditary Ranger, and
held in no less honor than Kunz Waldstromer, my beloved godson, who is a
man of law in the service of our good town. Franz, who dedicated himself
to the Church at an early age, under the protection of my lord Cardinal
Bernhardi, has already been named to be the next in office after our
present aged and weakly Bishop.

The son of Agnes, Herdegen's younger daughter, is Martin Behaim, a
high-spirited youth in whom his grandfather's fiery and restless temper
lives again, albeit somewhat quelled.

And if you now enquire of me how it is that I, albeit my heart beats
warmly enough for our good town and its welfare and honor, have only
taken a passing part in the duties of its worshipful Council, this is my
answer: Inasmuch as to provide for the increase of riches for the
Schopper family took all the strength I had, I lacked time to serve the
commonwealth as my heart would have desired; and by the time when my dear
nephew Berthold Im Hoff came to share the conduct of the trade with me I
was right willing to withdraw behind my young partner, Ann's son-in-law,
and to take his place in the business, while he and Kunz Waldstromer were
chosen to high dignity on the Council. Nevertheless it is well-known that
I have given up to the town a larger measure of time and labor and moneys
than many a town-mayor and captain of watch. Of this I make mention to
the end that those who come after me shall not charge me with evil
self-seeking.

Likewise some may ask me wherefor I, the last male offspring of the old
Schopper race, have gone through life unwed. Yet of a certainty they may
spare me the answer to whom I have honestly confessed all my heart's
pangs at the meeting of Herdegen with Ann.

After the death of her best-beloved lord the young widow was overcome
with brooding melancholy from which nothing could rouse her. At that time
you, my Margery and Agnes, her daughters, clung to me as to your own
father; and when, at the end of three years, your mother was healed of
that melancholy, it had come about that you had learned to call me father
while I had sporte