The knitting made a pleasing accompaniment to the moonlight of the sonata, as if pelicans were gnashing their teeth in the dimness. The sterner sex made a dash for the various albums and literature on the round table in the center of the room, and turned the leaves with a gentle flutter. The sonata was finished in dead silence. As it was performed by one of the family, no applause was necessary. I was asked to sing; and, though I do not like to sing after dinner, I consented, not to be disobliging. Before taking my seat on the revolving piano-stool I looked with a severe eye at the knitting-needles. The ladies certainly did try to make less noise, but they went on knitting, all the same. The flushed-with-success lawyer, wishing to show his appreciation of my singing, leaned gracefully across the piano, and said, "_Kammerherrinde_ [that is my title], you sing as if you had a beard in your throat." "A what?" I gasped. "A beard?" "Yes! a beautiful beard," and added, with a conscious smile, "I sing myself." Good heavens! I thought, and asked, "Do you know what a beard is?" "In Danish we call a beard a _fugle_" (pronounced _fool_.) "Then," I said, pretending to be offended, "I sing like a fool?" "Exactly," he said with enthusiasm, his eyes beaming with joy through his spectacles. This was hopeless. I moved gently away from the man who "talked English." The candles had burned down almost to their _bobèches_, and we were beginning to forget that we had eaten a dinner of fifteen courses, when in came a procession of servants with piles of plates in their arms and trays of _smördröd_ (sandwiches), tea, beer (in bottles), and cakes, which are called here _kicks_. Everything seemed very tempting except the things handed about by the stable-boy, who was dressed for the occasion in a livery, much too large, and was preceded and followed by a mixed odor of stable and almond soap. What struck me as unusual was that the host named the hour for his guests to go home. Therefore all the carriages were before the door at the same time. Johan explained the mistakes on the way home. "The man with the gray hairs and the _beard_" (pronounced like _heard_) had been _watching_ me. _Shield_ meant _child! A child_ in Danish is _et barn_, which sounds the same as _eight barn_. _Two children_ (in Danish) are _to börn_, pronounced _toe burn. Bird_ he pronounced like _beard_, because it was written so. A bird in Danish is _fugle_ (fool). Do you wonder that I was somewhat bewildered? _January, 1878._