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_The Shirt Collar_ was written by Hans Christian Andersen
(1805-1875), and was translated from the Danish by
M. R. James (1862-1936) as part of his
_Hans Andersen Forty-Two Stories_ (1930).

Title: Hans Andersen Forty-Two Stories -- The Shirt Collar
Author: Andersen, Hans Christian (1805-1875)
Translator: James, Montague Rhodes (1862-1936)
Date of first publication: 1930
Place and date of edition used as base for this ebook:
   London: Faber and Faber, 1953
Date first posted: 29 March 2010
Date last updated: 29 March 2010
Project Gutenberg Canada ebook #510

This ebook was produced by:
David T. Jones, Mark Akrigg
& the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
at http://www.pgdpcanada.net




The Shirt Collar

by

Hans Christian Andersen

(from _Hans Andersen Forty-Two Stories_ [1930],
translated by M. R. James)


There was once a fine gentleman, the whole of whose equipment existed
of a boot-jack and a comb, but he had the finest shirt Collar in the
world, and it is about this Collar that we are to hear the history. He
was now of an age to think of marrying, and it so happened that at the
wash he met with garter.

"Dear me," said the Collar; "never have I seen any one so slender, so
refined, so soft or so charming. Might I ask your name?"

"That I shall not tell you," said the Garter.

"Where do you reside?" asked the Collar.

But the Garter was very shy, and thought the question an awkward one
to answer.

"You must be a girdle," said the Collar; "a sort of inner girdle! I
see, I see; you serve both for use and ornament, little lady."

"You must not address me," said the Garter. "I do not think I have
given you any encouragement to do so."

"Oh, if anyone is as beautiful as you," said the Collar, "that is
encouragement enough."

"Do not come too near me," said the Garter; "you look so much like a
man."

"Well, yes, I am a fine gentleman," said the Collar. "I own a
boot-jack and a comb." Now this was really not the truth; it was his
master who owned them, but he was boasting.

"Don't come near me!" said the Garter. "I'm not accustomed to it."

"Miss Prim!" said the Collar. They were then taken out of the tub,
starched, and hung on a chair in the sun, and afterwards laid on the
ironing board. Then came the hot iron.

"Lady!" said the Collar. "Little widow lady, I'm getting quite hot, a
change is coming over me! All my folds are being flattened out. You'll
burn a hole in me. Will you be mine?" "Rag!" said the iron, passing
proudly over the collar; she fancied herself a steam engine travelling
along the rails and dragging a train. "Rag!" said she. The Collar had
become ravelled at the corners, so now came the paper-scissors, to cut
the ravelling off.

"Oh!" said the Collar. "You are, of course, the Premire Danseuse. How
you do stretch your legs; the most charming thing I ever saw. No human
being can do the like."

"I know that," said the Scissors.

"You deserve to be a countess," said the Collar. "My whole property
consists of a fine gentleman, a boot-jack and a comb. Oh, were I but a
count!"

"Are you proposing to me?" said the Scissors, much annoyed, and gave
him a smart cut; so he was dismissed from service.

"I suppose I must try the comb," said the Collar. "It's very
remarkable how you keep all your teeth, little lady! Have you never
thought of becoming engaged?"

"Yes, to be sure I have," said the comb. "I'm engaged to the
boot-jack."

"Engaged?" said the Collar. There was nobody left to propose to, so he
took to despising the whole business.

A long time passed by, and the Collar found himself in a box, at the
paper mill, with a vast collection of rags, the fine ones by
themselves and the coarse by themselves, as is right and proper. All
of them had a great deal to tell, but the Collar most of all, for he
was regular prating Jack.

"I've had a terrible lot of sweethearts," he said; "I hadn't a
moment's peace. In my time I was a fine gentleman--starched, too. I
had a boot-jack and a comb, which I never used. You ought to have
seen me then; seen me when I was laid aside. I shall never forget my
first love! A girdle she was, most delicate and soft and charming. She
threw herself into a washing-tub for love of me. Yes, and there was a
widow, who was burning hot, but I let her alone and she turned black.
And there was a premire danseuse; she gave me the scar I carry
now--she was so jealous. My own comb, too, fell in love with me, and
lost all her teeth from unrequited affection. Yes, I've had many such
experiences; but what caused me most pain is the Garter--I should say
the girdle--who went into the washing-tub. I've a great deal on my
conscience, and I'm really desirous of being made into white paper."

And so they were; all the rags were made into white paper, but the
Collar was made into precisely this bit of white paper you see here,
on which this story is printed; and that's because he boasted so
fearfully in his later days of what never happened. And we must take
care not to behave like that, for we really can never be sure that we
shan't get into the rag box, one of these days, and be turned into
white paper and the whole of our story printed on us, even the most
private bits, and be obliged to run about telling it, like the Collar.




[End of _The Shirt Collar_ by Hans Christian Andersen, from
_Hans Andersen Forty-Two Stories_, translated by M. R. James]
