of the Danish royal family, and on the geraniums and fuchsias, which
blossomed in the window. And last, he caught sight of an old
butterfly-snare that hung on the window frame. He had hardly set eyes on
that butterfly-snare, before he reached over and snatched it and jumped
up and swung it alongside the edge of the chest. He was himself
astonished at the luck he had. He hardly knew how he had managed it--but
he had actually snared the elf. The poor little chap lay, head downward,
in the bottom of the long snare, and could not free himself.

The first moment the boy hadn't the least idea what he should do with
his prize. He was only particular to swing the snare backward and
forward; to prevent the elf from getting a foothold and clambering up.

The elf began to speak, and begged, oh! so pitifully, for his freedom.
He had brought them good luck--these many years--he said, and deserved
better treatment. Now, if the boy would set him free, he would give him
an old coin, a silver spoon, and a gold penny, as big as the case on his
father's silver watch.

The boy didn't think that this was much of an offer; but it so
happened--that after he had gotten the elf in his power, he was afraid
of him. He felt that he had entered into an agreement with something
weird and uncanny; something which did not belong to his world, and he
was only too glad to get rid of the horrid thing.

For this reason he agreed at once to the bargain, and held the snare
still, so the elf could crawl out of it. But when the elf was almost out
of the snare, the boy happened to think that he ought to have bargained
for large estates, and all sorts of good things. He should at least have
made this stipulation: that the elf must conjure the sermon into his