Within the second box was another, and within that still another, until there were seven in all, and on each was written the same words: “_Open not._” Inside the seventh box was a roll of linen, and inside that a bottle filled with nothing but blue smoke; and I wish that bottle had burned the Tailor’s fingers when he touched it. “And is this all?” said the little Tailor, turning the bottle upside down and shaking it, and peeping at it by the light of the lamp. “Well, since I have gone so far I might as well open it, as I have already opened the seven boxes.” Thereupon he broke the seal that stoppered it. Pop! Out flew the cork, and--Puff! Out came the smoke; not all at once, but in a long thread that rose up as high as the stars, and then spread until it hid their light. The Tailor stared and goggled and gaped to see so much smoke come out of such a little bottle, and, as he goggled and stared, the smoke began to gather together again, thicker and thicker, and darker and darker, until it was as black as ink. Then out from it there stepped one with eyes that shone like sparks of fire, and who had a countenance so terrible that the Tailor’s skin quivered and shrivelled, and his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth at the sight of it. “Who art thou?” said the terrible being, in a voice that made the very marrow of the poor Tailor’s bones turn soft from terror. “If you please, sir,” said he, “I am only a little tailor.” The evil being lifted up both hands and eyes. “How wonderful,” he cried, “that one little tailor can undo in a moment that which took the wise Solomon a whole day to accomplish, and in the doing of which he wellnigh broke the sinews of his heart!” Then, turning to the Tailor, who stood trembling like a rabbit, “Hark thee!” said he. “For two thousand years I lay there in that bottle, and no one came nigh to aid me. Thou hast liberated me, and thou shalt not go unrewarded. Every morning at the seventh hour I will come to thee, and I will perform for thee whatever task thou mayest command me. But there is one condition attached to the agreement, and woe be to thee if that condition is broken. If any morning I should come to thee, and thou hast no task for me to do, I shall wring thy neck as thou mightest wring the neck of a sparrow.” Thereupon he was gone in an instant, leaving the little Tailor half dead with terror. Now it happened that the prime-minister of that country had left an order with the Tailor for a suit of clothes, so the next morning, when the Demon came, the little man set him to work on the bench, with his legs tucked up like a journeyman tailor. “I want,” said he, “such and such a suit of clothes.”