"The man came to my grandfather and told him what he had heard in the stable, and counselled him to start and go home while it was yet day. This my grandfather agreed to; he got up, took his little son, my father, by the hand, and proceeded towards Ranzin. But when he came to the coppice on the moor, which was overgrown with bushes and brambles, and about half way between Ranzin and Gribow, the murderous villains intercepted his path, trampled him down under their horses' hoofs, and wounded him so badly that they thought he was dead. They were however not satisfied therewith, but dragged him to a great stone, which even now lies on the moor, chopped off his right hand, and so left him for dead. But the boy, my father, had in the mean while crept along the moor and hidden himself in some bushes on a grass hill, so that they could not come near him with their horses, nor find him in the bushes, as it began to be dark. "The other peasants had ridden after the Hornes, to see what they had done: they found the wounded man thus mangled, and fetched the boy from the moor: one of these ran to Ranzin and brought quickly a cart and horses, on which they placed the wounded man, who showed no signs of life, except that on their arrival at Ranzin he gave a last gasp and expired. "The friends of the orphan boy, my father, sold the new house and turned everything into money, so that they amassed altogether about two thousand gulden. Few of the nobles at that period allowed their subjects to possess so much. These friends did their best by the boy, had him taught reading, writing, and arithmetic, and sent him to Antwerp, and afterwards to Amsterdam, that he might be fitted to become a merchant. When, having attained a right age, he returned home and took possession of his property, he bought at the corner of the high street and Hundstrasse, directly opposite to the church of St. Nicholas, two houses and two shops. One of the former he turned into a dwelling-house, the other into a brewhouse, and one of the shops into a gateway, whereon he expended much cost and labour. Now as people were well pleased with his comely person, and he had good hopes of having a sufficient maintenance, my mother's guardian and nearest relations promised her to him in marriage. "My mother was the daughter of Bartholomaeus Smiterlow, the brother of the Herr Buergermeister Nicholaus Smiterlow; she was a truly pretty woman, small and delicately formed, amiable and lively, free from pride, neat and domestic, and to the end of her life devout and God-fearing. In the year 1514 my parents were married, and in 1515 the good God gave them a son, whom they called after my paternal grandfather Johannes. In 1517 was born my sister Anne, the relict of Peter Frubos, Burgomaster of Greifswald. In 1520 I came into the world, and was named after my maternal grandfather, Bartholomaeus.