The False Collar

There was once a fine gentleman, all of whose moveables were a boot-jack and a hair-comb: but he had the finest false collars in the world; and it is about one of these collars that we are now to hear a story.

Once there was a fine gentleman whose only belongings were a boot-jack and a hair comb. But he had the finest detachable collars in the world. Now we will hear a story about one of those collars.

It was so old, that it began to think of marriage; and it happened that it came to be washed in company with a garter.

It was so old that it began to think about marriage. One day, it happened to be washed with a garter.

“Nay!” said the collar. “I never did see anything so slender and so fine, so soft and so neat. May I not ask your name?”

“No!” said the collar. “I have never seen anything so slender and fine, so soft and neat. May I ask your name?”

“That I shall not tell you!” said the garter.

“I won’t tell you that!” said the garter.

“Where do you live?” asked the collar.

“Where do you live?” asked the collar.

But the garter was so bashful, so modest, and thought it was a strange question to answer.

But the garter was so shy and modest that it thought the question was strange to answer.

“You are certainly a girdle,” said the collar; “that is to say an inside girdle. I see well that you are both for use and ornament, my dear young lady.”

“You are certainly a girdle,” said the collar. “I mean, a girdle worn under clothes. I can see that you are both useful and decorative, my dear young lady.”

“I will thank you not to speak to me,” said the garter. “I think I have not given the least occasion for it.”

“Please don’t speak to me,” said the garter. “I don’t think I’ve given you any reason to.”

“Yes! When one is as handsome as you,” said the collar, “that is occasion enough.”

“Yes! When someone is as handsome as you,” said the collar, “that is reason enough.”

“Don't come so near me, I beg of you!” said the garter. “You look so much like those men-folks.”

“Please don't come so close to me!” said the garter. “You look so much like those men.”

“I am also a fine gentleman,” said the collar. “I have a bootjack and a hair-comb.”

“I’m a fine gentleman too,” said the collar. “I have a bootjack and a hair comb.”

But that was not true, for it was his master who had them: but he boasted.

But that was not true. His master had them, but he boasted.

“Don't come so near me,” said the garter: “I am not accustomed to it.”

“Don't come so close to me,” said the garter. “I'm not used to it.”

“Prude!” exclaimed the collar; and then it was taken out of the washing-tub. It was starched, hung over the back of a chair in the sunshine, and was then laid on the ironing-blanket; then came the warm box-iron. “Dear lady!” said the collar. “Dear widow-lady! I feel quite hot. I am quite changed. I begin to unfold myself. You will burn a hole in me. Oh! I offer you my hand.”

“Prude!” exclaimed the collar. Then it was taken out of the washing tub. It was starched, hung over the back of a chair in the sunshine, and laid on the ironing blanket. Then came the warm box iron. “Dear lady!” said the collar. “Dear widow! I feel so hot. I’m completely changed. I’m beginning to unfold. You’ll burn a hole in me. Oh! I offer you my hand.”

“Rag!” said the box-iron; and went proudly over the collar: for she fancied she was a steam-engine, that would go on the railroad and draw the waggons. “Rag!” said the box-iron.

“Rag!” said the box iron as she proudly glided over the collar. She imagined she was a steam engine that would run on the railroad and pull the wagons. “Rag!” said the box iron.

The collar was a little jagged at the edge, and so came the long scissors to cut off the jagged part. “Oh!” said the collar. “You are certainly the first opera dancer. How well you can stretch your legs out! It is the most graceful performance I have ever seen. No one can imitate you.”

The collar’s edge was a little jagged, so the long scissors came to cut off the jagged part. “Oh!” said the collar. “You must be the finest opera dancer. How well you can stretch out your legs! It is the most graceful performance I have ever seen. No one can imitate you.”

“I know it,” said the scissors.

“I know it,” said the scissors.

“You deserve to be a baroness,” said the collar. “All that I have is a fine gentleman, a boot-jack, and a hair-comb. If I only had the barony!”

“You deserve to be a baroness,” said the collar. “All I have is a fine gentleman, a boot-jack, and a hair comb. If only I had a barony!”

“Do you seek my hand?” said the scissors; for she was angry; and without more ado, she CUT HIM, and then he was condemned.

“Are you asking for my hand?” said the scissors, for she was angry. Without another word, she CUT HIM, and he was condemned.

“I shall now be obliged to ask the hair-comb. It is surprising how well you preserve your teeth, Miss,” said the collar. “Have you never thought of being betrothed?”

“I suppose I’ll have to ask the hair comb now. I’m surprised how well you’ve kept your teeth, Miss,” said the collar. “Have you ever thought about getting engaged?”

“Yes, of course! you may be sure of that,” said the hair-comb. “I AM betrothed—to the boot-jack!”

“Yes, of course! You can be sure of that,” said the hair comb. “I AM engaged to the bootjack!”

“Betrothed!” exclaimed the collar. Now there was no other to court, and so he despised it.

“Engaged!” exclaimed the collar. There was no one else to court, so he despised it.

A long time passed away, then the collar came into the rag chest at the paper mill; there was a large company of rags, the fine by themselves, and the coarse by themselves, just as it should be. They all had much to say, but the collar the most; for he was a real boaster.

A long time passed before the collar ended up in the rag chest at the paper mill. There were many rags there. The fine rags were kept apart from the coarse ones, just as they should be. They all had much to say, but the collar had the most to say because he was a real boaster.

“I have had such an immense number of sweethearts!” said the collar. “I could not be in peace! It is true, I was always a fine starched-up gentleman! I had both a boot-jack and a hair-comb, which I never used! You should have seen me then, you should have seen me when I lay down! I shall never forget MY FIRST LOVE—she was a girdle, so fine, so soft, and so charming, she threw herself into a tub of water for my sake! There was also a widow, who became glowing hot, but I left her standing till she got black again; there was also the first opera dancer, she gave me that cut which I now go with, she was so ferocious! My own hair-comb was in love with me, she lost all her teeth from the heart-ache; yes, I have lived to see much of that sort of thing; but I am extremely sorry for the garter—I mean the girdle—that went into the water-tub. I have much on my conscience, I want to become white paper!”

“I have had so many sweethearts!” said the collar. “They never gave me any peace! It’s true, I was always a fine, starched gentleman! I had both a bootjack and a hair comb, though I never used either! You should have seen me then. You should have seen me when I lay down! I’ll never forget MY FIRST LOVE. She was a girdle, so fine, so soft, and so charming. She threw herself into a tub of water for my sake! There was also a widow who became glowing hot. But I left her standing until she turned black again. There was also the leading opera dancer. She gave me the cut I still have. She was so fierce! My own hair comb was in love with me. She lost all her teeth from heartache. Yes, I have seen a lot of that sort of thing. But I’m terribly sorry about the garter, I mean the girdle, who went into the tub of water. I have a lot on my conscience. I want to become white paper!”

And it became so, all the rags were turned into white paper; but the collar came to be just this very piece of white paper we here see, and on which the story is printed; and that was because it boasted so terribly afterwards of what had never happened to it. It would be well for us to beware, that we may not act in a similar manner, for we can never know if we may not, in the course of time, also come into the rag chest, and be made into white paper, and then have our whole life's history printed on it, even the most secret, and be obliged to run about and tell it ourselves, just like this collar.

And so it happened. All the rags were turned into white paper. But the collar became this very piece of white paper we see here, with the story printed on it. That happened because the collar later boasted so terribly about things that had never happened to it. We would do well to be careful not to behave the same way. For we can never know whether we too might someday end up in the rag chest and be made into white paper. Then our whole life story, even its deepest secrets, might be printed on that paper. And we might be forced to run about telling the story ourselves, just like this collar.