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# The House at Pooh Corner
- [Titlepage](epub/text/titlepage.md)
- [Imprint](epub/text/imprint.md)
- [Dedication](epub/text/dedication.md)
- [Contradiction](epub/text/introduction.md)
- [The House at Pooh Corner](epub/text/halftitlepage.md)
- [I: In Which a House Is Built at Pooh Corner for Eeyore](epub/text/chapter-1.md)
- [II: In Which Tigger Comes to the Forest and Has Breakfast](epub/text/chapter-2.md)
- [III: In Which a Search Is Organdized, and Piglet Nearly Meets the Heffalump Again](epub/text/chapter-3.md)
- [IV: In Which It Is Shown That Tiggers Dont Climb Trees](epub/text/chapter-4.md)
- [V: In Which Rabbit Has a Busy Day, and We Learn What Christopher Robin Does in the Mornings](epub/text/chapter-5.md)
- [VI: In Which Pooh Invents a New Game and Eeyore Joins In](epub/text/chapter-6.md)
- [VII: In Which Tigger Is Unbounced](epub/text/chapter-7.md)
- [VIII: In Which Piglet Does a Very Grand Thing](epub/text/chapter-8.md)
- [IX: In Which Eeyore Finds the Wolery and Owl Moves Into It](epub/text/chapter-9.md)
- [X: In Which Christopher Robin and Pooh Come to an Enchanted Place, and We Leave Them There](epub/text/chapter-10.md)
- [Colophon](epub/text/colophon.md)
- [Uncopyright](epub/text/uncopyright.md)

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# I
One day when Pooh Bear had nothing else to do, he thought he would do something, so he went round to Piglets house to see what Piglet was doing. It was still snowing as he stumped over the white forest track, and he expected to find Piglet warming his toes in front of his fire, but to his surprise he saw that the door was open, and the more he looked inside the more Piglet wasnt there.
“Hes out,” said Pooh sadly. “Thats what it is. Hes not in. I shall have to go a fast Thinking Walk by myself. Bother!”
But first he thought that he would knock very loudly just to make *quite* sure… and while he waited for Piglet not to answer, he jumped up and down to keep warm, and a hum came suddenly into his head, which seemed to him a Good Hum, such as is Hummed Hopefully to Others.
> The more it snows
> (Tiddely pom),
> The more it goes
> (Tiddely pom),
> The more it goes
> (Tiddely pom),
> On snowing.
> And nobody knows
> (Tiddely pom),
> How cold my toes
> (Tiddely pom),
> How cold my toes
> (Tiddely pom),
> Are growing.
“So what Ill do,” said Pooh, “is Ill do this. Ill just go home first and see what the time is, and perhaps Ill put a muffler round my neck, and then Ill go and see Eeyore and sing it to him.”
He hurried back to his own house; and his mind was so busy on the way with the hum that he was getting ready for Eeyore that, when he suddenly saw Piglet sitting in his best armchair, he could only stand there rubbing his head and wondering whose house he was in.
“Hallo, Piglet,” he said. “I thought you were out.”
“No,” said Piglet, “its you who were out, Pooh.”
“So it was,” said Pooh. “I knew one of us was.”
He looked up at his clock, which had stopped at five minutes to eleven some weeks ago.
“Nearly eleven oclock,” said Pooh happily. “Youre just in time for a little smackerel of something,” and he put his head into the cupboard. “And then well go out, Piglet, and sing my song to Eeyore.”
“Which song, Pooh?”
“The one were going to sing to Eeyore,” explained Pooh.
The clock was still saying five minutes to eleven when Pooh and Piglet set out on their way half an hour later. The wind had dropped, and the snow, tired of rushing round in circles trying to catch itself up, now fluttered gently down until it found a place on which to rest, and sometimes the place was Poohs nose and sometimes it wasnt, and in a little while Piglet was wearing a white muffler round his neck and feeling more snowy behind the ears than he had ever felt before.
“Pooh,” he said at last, and a little timidly, because he didnt want Pooh to think he was Giving In, “I was just wondering. How would it be if we went home now and *practised* your song, and then sang it to Eeyore tomorrow—or—or the next day, when we happen to see him?”
“Thats a very good idea, Piglet,” said Pooh. “Well practise it now as we go along. But its no good going home to practise it, because its a special Outdoor Song which Has To Be Sung In The Snow.”
“Are you sure?” asked Piglet anxiously.
“Well, youll see, Piglet, when you listen. Because this is how it begins. The more it snows, tiddely pom—”
“Tiddely what?” said Piglet.
“Pom,” said Pooh. “I put that in to make it more hummy. The more it goes, tiddely pom, the more—”
“Didnt you say snows?”
“Yes, but that was *before*.”
“Before the tiddely pom?”
“It was a *different* tiddely pom,” said Pooh, feeling rather muddled now. “Ill sing it to you properly and then youll see.”
So he sang it again.
> The more it
> **Snows**-tiddely-pom,
> The more it
> **Goes**-tiddely-pom
> The more it
> **Goes**-tiddely-pom
> On
> Snowing.
>
> And nobody
> **Knows**-tiddely-pom,
> How cold my
> **Toes**-tiddely-pom
> How cold my
> **Toes**-tiddely-pom
> Are
> Growing.
He sang it like that, which is much the best way of singing it, and when he had finished, he waited for Piglet to say that, of all the Outdoor Hums for Snowy Weather he had ever heard, this was the best. And, after thinking the matter out carefully, Piglet said:
“Pooh,” he said solemnly, “it isnt the *toes* so much as the *ears*.”
By this time they were getting near Eeyores Gloomy Place, which was where he lived, and as it was still very snowy behind Piglets ears, and he was getting tired of it, they turned into a little pine wood, and sat down on the gate which led into it. They were out of the snow now, but it was very cold, and to keep themselves warm they sang Poohs song right through six times, Piglet doing the tiddely-poms and Pooh doing the rest of it, and both of them thumping on the top of the gate with pieces of stick at the proper places. And in a little while they felt much warmer, and were able to talk again.
“Ive been thinking,” said Pooh, “and what Ive been thinking is this. Ive been thinking about Eeyore.”
“What about Eeyore?”
“Well, poor Eeyore has nowhere to live.”
“Nor he has,” said Piglet.
“*You* have a house, Piglet, and I have a house, and they are very good houses. And Christopher Robin has a house, and Owl and Kanga and Rabbit have houses, and even Rabbits friends and relations have houses or somethings, but poor Eeyore has nothing. So what Ive been thinking is: Lets build him a house.”
“That,” said Piglet, “is a Grand Idea. Where shall we build it?”
“We build it here,” said Pooh, “just by this wood, out of the wind, because this is where I thought of it. And we will call this Pooh Corner. And we will build an Eeyore House with sticks at Pooh Corner for Eeyore.”
“There was a heap of sticks on the other side of the wood,” said Piglet. “I saw them. Lots and lots. All piled up.”
“Thank you, Piglet,” said Pooh. “What you have just said will be a Great Help to us, and because of it I could call this place Poohanpiglet Corner if Pooh Corner didnt sound better, which it does, being smaller and more like a corner. Come along.”
So they got down off the gate and went round to the other side of the wood to fetch the sticks.
* * *
Christopher Robin had spent the morning indoors going to Africa and back, and he had just got off the boat and was wondering what it was like outside, when who should come knocking at the door but Eeyore.
“Hallo, Eeyore,” said Christopher Robin, as he opened the door and came out. “How are *you*?”
“Its snowing still,” said Eeyore gloomily.
“So it is.”
“*And* freezing.”
“Is it?”
“Yes,” said Eeyore. “However,” he said, brightening up a little, “we havent had an earthquake lately.”
“Whats the matter, Eeyore?”
“Nothing, Christopher Robin. Nothing important. I suppose you havent seen a house or whatnot anywhere about?”
“What sort of a house?”
“Just a house.”
“Who lives there?”
“I do. At least I thought I did. But I suppose I dont. After all, we cant all have houses.”
“But, Eeyore, I didnt know—I always thought—”
“I dont know how it is, Christopher Robin, but what with all this snow and one thing and another, not to mention icicles and suchlike, it isnt so Hot in my field about three oclock in the morning as some people think it is. It isnt Close, if you know what I mean—not so as to be uncomfortable. It isnt Stuffy. In fact, Christopher Robin,” he went on in a loud whisper, “quite-between-ourselves-and-dont-tell-anybody, its Cold.”
“Oh, Eeyore!”
“And I said to myself: The others will be sorry if Im getting myself all cold. They havent got Brains, any of them, only grey fluff thats blown into their heads by mistake, and they dont Think, but if it goes on snowing for another six weeks or so, one of them will begin to say to himself: Eeyore cant be so very much too Hot about three oclock in the morning. And then it will Get About. And theyll be Sorry.”
“Oh, Eeyore!” said Christopher Robin, feeling very sorry already.
“I dont mean you, Christopher Robin. Youre different. So what it all comes to is that I built myself a house down by my little wood.”
“Did you really? How exciting!”
“The really exciting part,” said Eeyore in his most melancholy voice, “is that when I left it this morning it was there, and when I came back it wasnt. Not at all, very natural, and it was only Eeyores house. But still I just wondered.”
Christopher Robin didnt stop to wonder. He was already back in *his* house, putting on his waterproof hat, his waterproof boots and his waterproof macintosh as fast as he could.
“Well go and look for it at once,” he called out to Eeyore.
“Sometimes,” said Eeyore, “when people have quite finished taking a persons house, there are one or two bits which they dont want and are rather glad for the person to take back, if you know what I mean. So I thought if we just went—”
“Come on,” said Christopher Robin, and off they hurried, and in a very little time they got to the corner of the field by the side of the pinewood, where Eeyores house wasnt any longer.
“There!” said Eeyore. “Not a stick of it left! Of course, Ive still got all this snow to do what I like with. One mustnt complain.”
But Christopher Robin wasnt listening to Eeyore, he was listening to something else.
“Cant you hear it?” he asked.
“What is it? Somebody laughing?”
“Listen.”
They both listened… and they heard a deep gruff voice saying in a singing voice that the more it snowed the more it went on snowing, and a small high voice tiddely-pomming in between.
“Its Pooh,” said Christopher Robin excitedly. …
“Possibly,” said Eeyore.
“*And* Piglet!” said Christopher Robin excitedly.
“Probably,” said Eeyore. “What we *want* is a Trained Bloodhound.”
The words of the song changed suddenly.
“Weve finished our **house**!” sang the gruff voice.
“Tiddely pom!” sang the squeaky one.
“Its a beautiful **house**. …”
“Tiddely pom. …”
“I wish it were **mine**. …”
“Tiddely pom. …”
“Pooh!” shouted Christopher Robin. …
The singers on the gate stopped suddenly.
“Its Christopher Robin!” said Pooh eagerly.
“Hes round by the place where we got all those sticks from,” said Piglet.
“Come on,” said Pooh.
They climbed down their gate and hurried round the corner of the wood, Pooh making welcoming noises all the way.
“Why, here *is* Eeyore,” said Pooh, when he had finished hugging Christopher Robin, and he nudged Piglet, and Piglet nudged him, and they thought to themselves what a lovely surprise they had got ready.
“Hallo, Eeyore.”
“Same to you, Pooh Bear, and twice on Thursdays,” said Eeyore gloomily.
Before Pooh could say: “Why Thursdays?” Christopher Robin began to explain the sad story of Eeyores Lost House. And Pooh and Piglet listened, and their eyes seemed to get bigger and bigger.
“*Where* did you say it was?” asked Pooh.
“Just here,” said Eeyore.
“Made of sticks?”
“Yes.”
“Oh!” said Piglet.
“What?” said Eeyore.
“I just said Oh!’ ” said Piglet nervously. And so as to seem quite at ease he hummed Tiddely-pom once or twice in a what-shall-we-do-now kind of way.
“Youre sure it *was* a house?” said Pooh. “I mean, youre sure the house was just here?”
“Of course I am,” said Eeyore. And he murmured to himself, “No brain at all some of them.”
“Why, whats the matter, Pooh?” asked Christopher Robin.
“Well,” said Pooh. … “The fact *is*,” said Pooh. … “Well, the fact *is*,” said Pooh. … “You see,” said Pooh. … “Its like this,” said Pooh, and something seemed to tell him that he wasnt explaining very well, and he nudged Piglet again.
“Its like this,” said Piglet quickly. … “Only warmer,” he added after deep thought.
“Whats warmer?”
“The other side of the wood, where Eeyores house is.”
“*My* house?” said Eeyore. “My house was here.”
“No,” said Piglet firmly. “The other side of the wood.”
“Because of being warmer,” said Pooh.
“But I ought to *know*—”
“Come and look,” said Piglet simply, and he led the way.
“There wouldnt be *two* houses,” said Pooh. “Not so close together.”
They came round the corner, and there was Eeyores house, looking as comfy as anything.
“There you are,” said Piglet.
“Inside as well as outside,” said Pooh proudly.
Eeyore went inside… and came out again.
“Its a remarkable thing,” he said. “It *is* my house, and I built it where I said I did, so the wind must have blown it here. And the wind blew it right over the wood, and blew it down here, and here it is as good as ever. In fact, better in places.”
“Much better,” said Pooh and Piglet together.
“It just shows what can be done by taking a little trouble,” said Eeyore. “Do you see, Pooh? Do you see, Piglet? Brains first and then Hard Work. Look at it! *Thats* the way to build a house,” said Eeyore proudly.
* * *
So they left him in it; and Christopher Robin went back to lunch with his friends Pooh and Piglet, and on the way they told him of the Awful Mistake they had made. And when he had finished laughing, they all sang the Outdoor Song for Snowy Weather the rest of the way home, Piglet, who was still not quite sure of his voice, putting in the tiddely-poms again.
“And I know it *seems* easy,” said Piglet to himself, “but it isnt *everyone* who could do it.”

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# X
Christopher Robin was going away. Nobody knew why he was going; nobody knew where he was going; indeed, nobody even knew why he knew that Christopher Robin *was* going away. But somehow or other everybody in the Forest felt that it was happening at last. Even Smallest-of-all, a friend-and-relation of Rabbits who thought he had once seen Christopher Robins foot, but couldnt be quite sure because perhaps it was something else, even S. of A. told himself that Things were going to be Different; and Late and Early, two other friends-and-relations, said, “Well, Early?” and “Well, Late?” to each other in such a hopeless sort of way that it really didnt seem any good waiting for the answer.
One day when he felt that he couldnt wait any longer, Rabbit brained out a Notice, and this is what it said:
“Notice a meeting of everybody will meet at the House at Pooh Corner to pass a Rissolution By Order Keep to the Left Signed Rabbit.”
He had to write this out two or three times before he could get the rissolution to look like what he thought it was going to when he began to spell it: but, when at last it was finished, he took it round to everybody and read it out to them. And they all said they would come.
“Well,” said Eeyore that afternoon, when he saw them all walking up to his house, “this *is* a surprise. Am *I* asked too?”
“Dont mind Eeyore,” whispered Rabbit to Pooh. “I told him all about it this morning.”
Everybody said “How-do-you-do” to Eeyore, and Eeyore said that he didnt, not to notice, and then they sat down; and as soon as they were all sitting down, Rabbit stood up again.
“We all know why were here,” he said, “but I have asked my friend Eeyore—”
“Thats Me,” said Eeyore. “Grand.”
“I have asked him to Propose a Rissolution.” And he sat down again. “Now then, Eeyore,” he said.
“Dont Bustle me,” said Eeyore, getting up slowly. “Dont now-then me.” He took a piece of paper from behind his ear, and unfolded it. “Nobody knows anything about this,” he went on. “This is a Surprise.” He coughed in an important way, and began again: “What-nots and Etceteras, before I begin, or perhaps I should say, before I end, I have a piece of Poetry to read to you. Hitherto—hitherto—a long word meaning—well, youll see what it means directly—hitherto, as I was saying, all the Poetry in the Forest has been written by Pooh, a Bear with a Pleasing Manner but a Positively Startling Lack of Brain. The Poem which I am now about to read to you was written by Eeyore, or Myself, in a Quiet Moment. If somebody will take Roos bulls-eye away from him, and wake up Owl, we shall all be able to enjoy it. I call it—**Poem**.”
This was it.
> Christopher Robin is going.
> At least I think he is.
> Where?
> Nobody knows.
> But he is going
> I mean he goes
> (To rhyme with “knows”)
> Do we care?
> (To rhyme with “where”)
> We do
> Very much.
> (I havent got a rhyme for that “is” in the second line yet. Bother.)
> (Now I havent got a rhyme for bother. Bother.)
> Those two bothers will have to rhyme with each other. Buther.
> The fact is this is more difficult than I thought,
> I ought
> (Very good indeed)
> I ought
> To begin again,
> But it is easier
> To stop.
> Christopher Robin, good-bye,
> I
> (Good)
> I
> And all your friends
> Sends
> I mean all your friend
> Send
> (Very awkward this, it keeps going wrong)
> Well, anyhow, we send
> Our love
> **End.**
“If anybody wants to clap,” said Eeyore when he had read this, “now is the time to do it.”
They all clapped.
“Thank you,” said Eeyore. “Unexpected and gratifying, if a little lacking in Smack.”
“Its much better than mine,” said Pooh admiringly, and he really thought it was.
“Well,” explained Eeyore modestly, “it was meant to be.”
“The rissolution,” said Rabbit, “is that we all sign it, and take it to Christopher Robin.”
So it was signed Pooh, Piglet, Wol, Eor, Rabbit, Kanga, Blot, Smudge, and they all went off to Christopher Robins house with it.
“Hallo, everybody,” said Christopher Robin—“Hallo, Pooh.”
They all said “Hallo,” and felt awkward and unhappy suddenly, because it was a sort of goodbye they were saying, and they didnt want to think about it. So they stood around, and waited for somebody else to speak, and they nudged each other, and said “Go on,” and gradually Eeyore was nudged to the front, and the others crowded behind him.
“What is it, Eeyore?” asked Christopher Robin. Eeyore swished his tail from side to side, so as to encourage himself, and began.
“Christopher Robin,” he said, “weve come to say—to give you—its called—written by—but weve all—because weve heard, I mean we all know—well, you see, its—we—you—well, that, to put it as shortly as possible, is what it is.” He turned round angrily on the others and said, “Everybody crowds round so in this Forest. Theres no Space. I never saw a more Spreading lot of animals in my life, and all in the wrong places. Cant you *see* that Christopher Robin wants to be alone? Im going.” And he humped off.
Not quite knowing why, the others began edging away, and when Christopher Robin had finished reading **Poem**, and was looking up to say, “Thank you,” only Pooh was left.
“Its a comforting sort of thing to have,” said Christopher Robin, folding up the paper, and putting it in his pocket. “Come on, Pooh,” and he walked off quickly.
“Where are we going?” said Pooh, hurrying after him, and wondering whether it was to be an Explore or a What-shall-I-do-about-you-know-what.
“Nowhere,” said Christopher Robin.
So they began going there, and after they had walked a little way Christopher Robin said:
“What do you like doing best in the world, Pooh?”
“Well,” said Pooh, “what I like best—” and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey *was* a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didnt know what it was called. And then he thought that being with Christopher Robin was a very good thing to do, and having Piglet near was a very friendly thing to have; and so, when he had thought it all out, he said, “What I like best in the whole world is Me and Piglet going to see You, and You saying What about a little something? and Me saying, Well, I shouldnt mind a little something, should you, Piglet, and it being a hummy sort of day outside, and birds singing.”
“I like that too,” said Christopher Robin, “but what I like *doing* best is Nothing.”
“How do you do Nothing?” asked Pooh, after he had wondered for a long time.
“Well, its when people call out at you just as youre going off to do it, What are you going to do, Christopher Robin, and you say, Oh, nothing, and then you go and do it.”
“Oh, I see,” said Pooh.
“This is a nothing sort of thing that were doing now.”
“Oh, I see,” said Pooh again.
“It means just going along, listening to all the things you cant hear, and not bothering.”
“Oh!” said Pooh.
They walked on, thinking of This and That, and by-and-by they came to an enchanted place on the very top of the Forest called Galleons Lap, which is sixty-something trees in a circle; and Christopher Robin knew that it was enchanted because nobody had ever been able to count whether it was sixty-three or sixty-four, not even when he tied a piece of string round each tree after he had counted it. Being enchanted, its floor was not like the floor of the Forest, gorse and bracken and heather, but close-set grass, quiet and smooth and green. It was the only place in the Forest where you could sit down carelessly, without getting up again almost at once and looking for somewhere else. Sitting there they could see the whole world spread out until it reached the sky, and whatever there was all the world over was with them in Galleons Lap.
Suddenly Christopher Robin began to tell Pooh about some of the things: People called Kings and Queens and something called Factors, and a place called Europe, and an island in the middle of the sea where no ships came, and how you make a Suction Pump (if you want to), and when Knights were Knighted, and what comes from Brazil. And Pooh, his back against one of the sixty-something trees, and his paws folded in front of him, said “Oh!” and “I didnt know,” and thought how wonderful it would be to have a Real Brain which could tell you things. And by-and-by Christopher Robin came to an end of the things, and was silent, and he sat there looking out over the world, and wishing it wouldnt stop.
But Pooh was thinking too, and he said suddenly to Christopher Robin:
“Is it a very Grand thing to be an Afternoon, what you said?”
“A what?” said Christopher Robin lazily, as he listened to something else.
“On a horse,” explained Pooh.
“A Knight?”
“Oh, was that it?” said Pooh. “I thought it was a—Is it as Grand as a King and Factors and all the other things you said?”
“Well, its not as grand as a King,” said Christopher Robin, and then, as Pooh seemed disappointed, he added quickly, “but its grander than Factors.”
“Could a Bear be one?”
“Of course he could!” said Christopher Robin. “Ill make you one.” And he took a stick and touched Pooh on the shoulder, and said, “Rise, Sir Pooh de Bear, most faithful of all my Knights.”
So Pooh rose and sat down and said “Thank you,” which is the proper thing to say when you have been made a Knight, and he went into a dream again, in which he and Sir Pomp and Sir Brazil and Factors lived together with a horse, and were faithful Knights (all except Factors, who looked after the horse) to Good King Christopher Robin… and every now and then he shook his head, and said to himself “Im not getting it right.” Then he began to think of all the things Christopher Robin would want to tell him when he came back from wherever he was going to, and how muddling it would be for a Bear of Very Little Brain to try and get them right in his mind. “So, perhaps,” he said sadly to himself, “Christopher Robin wont tell me any more,” and he wondered if being a Faithful Knight meant that you just went on being faithful without being told things.
Then, suddenly again, Christopher Robin, who was still looking at the world, with his chin in his hands, called out “Pooh!”
“Yes?” said Pooh.
“When Im—when—Pooh!”
“Yes, Christopher Robin?”
“Im not going to do Nothing any more.”
“Never again?”
“Well, not so much. They dont let you.”
Pooh waited for him to go on, but he was silent again.
“Yes, Christopher Robin?” said Pooh helpfully.
“Pooh, when Im—*you* know—when Im *not* doing Nothing, will you come up here sometimes?”
“Just Me?”
“Yes, Pooh.”
“Will you be here too?”
“Yes, Pooh, I will be, *really*. I *promise* I will be, Pooh.”
“Thats good,” said Pooh.
“Pooh, *promise* you wont forget about me, ever. Not even when Im a hundred.”
Pooh thought for a little.
“How old shall *I* be then?”
“Ninety-nine.”
Pooh nodded.
“I promise,” he said.
Still with his eyes on the world Christopher Robin put out a hand and felt for Poohs paw.
“Pooh,” said Christopher Robin earnestly, “if I—if Im not quite—” he stopped and tried again—“Pooh, *whatever* happens, you *will* understand, wont you?”
“Understand what?”
“Oh, nothing.” He laughed and jumped to his feet. “Come on!”
“Where?” said Pooh.
“Anywhere,” said Christopher Robin.
* * *
So they went off together. But wherever they go, and whatever happens to them on the way, in that enchanted place on the top of the Forest, a little boy and his Bear will always be playing.

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# II
Winnie-the-Pooh woke up suddenly in the middle of the night and listened. Then he got out of bed, and lit his candle, and stumped across the room to see if anybody was trying to get into his honey-cupboard, and they werent, so he stumped back again, blew out his candle, and got into bed. Then he heard the noise again.
“Is that you, Piglet?” he said.
But it wasnt.
“Come in, Christopher Robin,” he said.
But Christopher Robin didnt.
“Tell me about it tomorrow, Eeyore,” said Pooh sleepily.
But the noise went on.
“*Worraworraworraworraworra*,” said Whatever-it-was, and Pooh found that he wasnt asleep after all.
“What can it be?” he thought. “There are lots of noises in the Forest, but this is a different one. It isnt a growl, and it isnt a purr, and it isnt a bark, and it isnt the noise-you-make-before-beginning-a-piece-of-poetry, but its a noise of some kind, made by a strange animal. And hes making it outside my door. So I shall get up and ask him not to do it.”
He got out of bed and opened his front door.
“Hallo!” said Pooh, in case there was anything outside.
“Hallo!” said Whatever-it-was.
“Oh!” said Pooh. “Hallo!”
“Hallo!”
“Oh, *there* you are!” said Pooh. “Hallo!”
“Hallo!” said the Strange Animal, wondering how long this was going on.
Pooh was just going to say “Hallo!” for the fourth time when he thought that he wouldnt, so he said: “Who is it?” instead.
“Me,” said a voice.
“Oh!” said Pooh. “Well, come here.”
So Whatever-it-was came here, and in the light of the candle he and Pooh looked at each other.
“Im Pooh,” said Pooh.
“Im Tigger,” said Tigger.
“Oh!” said Pooh, for he had never seen an animal like this before. “Does Christopher Robin know about you?”
“Of course he does,” said Tigger.
“Well,” said Pooh, “its the middle of the night, which is a good time for going to sleep. And tomorrow morning well have some honey for breakfast. Do Tiggers like honey?”
“They like everything,” said Tigger cheerfully.
“Then if they like going to sleep on the floor, Ill go back to bed,” said Pooh, “and well do things in the morning. Good night.” And he got back into bed and went fast asleep.
When he awoke in the morning, the first thing he saw was Tigger, sitting in front of the glass and looking at himself.
“Hallo!” said Pooh.
“Hallo!” said Tigger. “Ive found somebody just like me. I thought I was the only one of them.”
Pooh got out of bed, and began to explain what a looking-glass was, but just as he was getting to the interesting part, Tigger said:
“Excuse me a moment, but theres something climbing up your table,” and with one loud *Worraworraworraworraworra* he jumped at the end of the tablecloth, pulled it to the ground, wrapped himself up in it three times, rolled to the other end of the room, and, after a terrible struggle, got his head into the daylight again, and said cheerfully: “Have I won?”
“Thats my tablecloth,” said Pooh, as he began to unwind Tigger.
“I wondered what it was,” said Tigger.
“It goes on the table and you put things on it.”
“Then why did it try to bite me when I wasnt looking?”
“I dont *think* it did,” said Pooh.
“It tried,” said Tigger, “but I was too quick for it.”
Pooh put the cloth back on the table, and he put a large honeypot on the cloth, and they sat down to breakfast. And as soon as they sat down, Tigger took a large mouthful of honey… and he looked up at the ceiling with his head on one side, and made exploring noises with his tongue and considering noises, and what-have-we-got-*here* noises… and then he said in a very decided voice:
“Tiggers dont like honey.”
“Oh!” said Pooh, and tried to make it sound Sad and Regretful. “I thought they liked everything.”
“Everything except honey,” said Tigger.
Pooh felt rather pleased about this, and said that, as soon as he had finished his own breakfast, he would take Tigger round to Piglets house, and Tigger could try some of Piglets haycorns.
“Thank you, Pooh,” said Tigger, “because haycorns is really what Tiggers like best.”
So after breakfast they went round to see Piglet, and Pooh explained as they went that Piglet was a Very Small Animal who didnt like bouncing, and asked Tigger not to be too Bouncy just at first. And Tigger, who had been hiding behind trees and jumping out on Poohs shadow when it wasnt looking, said that Tiggers were only bouncy before breakfast, and that as soon as they had had a few haycorns they became Quiet and Refined. So by and by they knocked at the door of Piglets house.
“Hallo, Pooh,” said Piglet.
“Hallo, Piglet. This is Tigger.”
“Oh, is it?” said Piglet, and he edged round to the other side of the table. “I thought Tiggers were smaller than that.”
“Not the big ones,” said Tigger.
“They like haycorns,” said Pooh, “so thats what weve come for, because poor Tigger hasnt had any breakfast yet.”
Piglet pushed the bowl of haycorns towards Tigger, and said: “Help yourself,” and then he got close up to Pooh and felt much braver, and said, “So youre Tigger? Well, well!” in a careless sort of voice. But Tigger said nothing because his mouth was full of haycorns. …
After a long munching noise he said:
“Ee-ers o i a-ors.”
And when Pooh and Piglet said “What?” he said “Skoos ee,” and went outside for a moment.
When he came back he said firmly:
“Tiggers dont like haycorns.”
“But you said they liked everything except honey,” said Pooh.
“Everything except honey and haycorns,” explained Tigger.
When he heard this Pooh said, “Oh, I see!” and Piglet, who was rather glad that Tiggers didnt like haycorns, said, “What about thistles?”
“Thistles,” said Tigger, “is what Tiggers like best.”
“Then lets go along and see Eeyore,” said Piglet.
So the three of them went; and after they had walked and walked and walked, they came to the part of the Forest where Eeyore was.
“Hallo, Eeyore!” said Pooh. “This is Tigger.”
“What is?” said Eeyore.
“This,” explained Pooh and Piglet together, and Tigger smiled his happiest smile and said nothing.
Eeyore walked all round Tigger one way, and then turned and walked all round him the other way.
“What did you say it was?” he asked.
“Tigger.”
“Ah!” said Eeyore.
“Hes just come,” explained Piglet.
“Ah!” said Eeyore again.
He thought for a long time and then said:
“When is he going?”
Pooh explained to Eeyore that Tigger was a great friend of Christopher Robins, who had come to stay in the Forest, and Piglet explained to Tigger that he mustnt mind what Eeyore said because he was *always* gloomy; and Eeyore explained to Piglet that, on the contrary, he was feeling particularly cheerful this morning; and Tigger explained to anybody who was listening that he hadnt had any breakfast yet.
“I knew there was something,” said Pooh. “Tiggers always eat thistles, so that was why we came to see you, Eeyore.”
“Dont mention it, Pooh.”
“Oh, Eeyore, I didnt mean that I didnt *want* to see you—”
“Quite—quite. But your new stripy friend—naturally, he wants his breakfast. What did you say his name was?”
“Tigger.”
“Then come this way, Tigger.”
Eeyore led the way to the most thistly-looking patch of thistles that ever was, and waved a hoof at it.
“A little patch I was keeping for my birthday,” he said; “but, after all, what *are* birthdays? Here today and gone tomorrow. Help yourself, Tigger.”
Tigger thanked him and looked a little anxiously at Pooh.
“Are these really thistles?” he whispered.
“Yes,” said Pooh.
“What Tiggers like best?”
“Thats right,” said Pooh.
“I see,” said Tigger.
So he took a large mouthful, and he gave a large crunch.
“*Ow!*” said Tigger.
He sat down and put his paw in his mouth.
“Whats the matter?” asked Pooh.
“*Hot!*” mumbled Tigger.
“Your friend,” said Eeyore, “appears to have bitten on a bee.”
Poohs friend stopped shaking his head to get the prickles out, and explained that Tiggers didnt like thistles.
“Then why bend a perfectly good one?” asked Eeyore.
“But you said,” began Pooh—“you *said* that Tiggers liked everything except honey and haycorns.”
“*And* thistles,” said Tigger, who was now running round in circles with his tongue hanging out.
Pooh looked at him sadly.
“What are we going to do?” he asked Piglet.
Piglet knew the answer to that, and he said at once that they must go and see Christopher Robin.
“Youll find him with Kanga,” said Eeyore. He came close to Pooh, and said in a loud whisper:
“*Could* you ask your friend to do his exercises somewhere else? I shall be having lunch directly, and dont want it bounced on just before I begin. A trifling matter, and fussy of me, but we all have our little ways.”
Pooh nodded solemnly and called to Tigger.
“Come along and well go and see Kanga. Shes sure to have lots of breakfast for you.”
Tigger finished his last circle and came up to Pooh and Piglet.
“Hot!” he explained with a large and friendly smile. “Come on!” and he rushed off.
Pooh and Piglet walked slowly after him. And as they walked Piglet said nothing, because he couldnt think of anything, and Pooh said nothing, because he was thinking of a poem. And when he had thought of it he began:
> What shall we do about poor little Tigger?
> If he never eats nothing hell never get bigger.
> He doesnt like honey and haycorns and thistles
> Because of the taste and because of the bristles.
> And all the good things which an animal likes
> Have the wrong sort of swallow or too many spikes.
“Hes quite big enough anyhow,” said Piglet.
“He isnt *really* very big.”
“Well, he *seems* so.”
Pooh was thoughtful when he heard this, and then he murmured to himself:
> But whatever his weight in pounds, shillings, and ounces,
> He always seems bigger because of his bounces.
“And thats the whole poem,” he said. “Do you like it, Piglet?”
“All except the shillings,” said Piglet. “I dont think they ought to be there.”
“They wanted to come in after the pounds,” explained Pooh, “so I let them. It is the best way to write poetry, letting things come.”
“Oh, I didnt know,” said Piglet.
* * *
Tigger had been bouncing in front of them all this time, turning round every now and then to ask, “Is this the way?”—and now at last they came in sight of Kangas house, and there was Christopher Robin. Tigger rushed up to him.
“Oh, there you are, Tigger!” said Christopher Robin. “I knew youd be somewhere.”
“Ive been finding things in the Forest,” said Tigger importantly. “Ive found a pooh and a piglet and an eeyore, but I cant find any breakfast.”
Pooh and Piglet came up and hugged Christopher Robin, and explained what had been happening.
“Dont *you* know what Tiggers like?” asked Pooh.
“I expect if I thought very hard I should,” said Christopher Robin, “but I *thought* Tigger knew.”
“I do,” said Tigger. “Everything there is in the world except honey and haycorns and—what were those hot things called?”
“Thistles.”
“Yes, and those.”
“Oh, well then, Kanga can give you some breakfast.”
So they went into Kangas house, and when Roo had said, “Hallo, Pooh,” and “Hallo, Piglet” once, and “Hallo, Tigger” twice, because he had never said it before and it sounded funny, they told Kanga what they wanted, and Kanga said very kindly, “Well, look in my cupboard, Tigger dear, and see what youd like.” Because she knew at once that, however big Tigger seemed to be, he wanted as much kindness as Roo.
“Shall I look, too?” said Pooh, who was beginning to feel a little eleven oclockish. And he found a small tin of condensed milk, and something seemed to tell him that Tiggers didnt like this, so he took it into a corner by itself, and went with it to see that nobody interrupted it.
But the more Tigger put his nose into this and his paw into that, the more things he found which Tiggers didnt like. And when he had found everything in the cupboard, and couldnt eat any of it, he said to Kanga, “What happens now?”
But Kanga and Christopher Robin and Piglet were all standing round Roo, watching him have his Extract of Malt. And Roo was saying, “Must I?” and Kanga was saying “Now, Roo dear, you remember what you promised.”
“What is it?” whispered Tigger to Piglet.
“His Strengthening Medicine,” said Piglet. “He hates it.”
So Tigger came closer, and he leant over the back of Roos chair, and suddenly he put out his tongue, and took one large golollop, and, with a sudden jump of surprise, Kanga said, “Oh!” and then clutched at the spoon again just as it was disappearing, and pulled it safely back out of Tiggers mouth. But the Extract of Malt had gone.
“Tigger *dear*!” said Kanga.
“Hes taken my medicine, hes taken my medicine, hes taken my medicine!” sang Roo happily, thinking it was a tremendous joke.
Then Tigger looked up at the ceiling, and closed his eyes, and his tongue went round and round his chops, in case he had left any outside, and a peaceful smile came over his face as he said, “So *thats* what Tiggers like!”
* * *
Which explains why he always lived at Kangas house afterwards, and had Extract of Malt for breakfast, dinner, and tea. And sometimes, when Kanga thought he wanted strengthening, he had a spoonful or two of Roos breakfast after meals as medicine.
“But *I* think,” said Piglet to Pooh, “that hes been strengthened quite enough.”

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# III
Pooh was sitting in his house one day, counting his pots of honey, when there came a knock on the door.
“Fourteen,” said Pooh. “Come in. Fourteen. Or was it fifteen? Bother. Thats muddled me.”
“Hallo, Pooh,” said Rabbit.
“Hallo, Rabbit. Fourteen, wasnt it?”
“What was?”
“My pots of honey what I was counting.”
“Fourteen, thats right.”
“Are you sure?”
“No,” said Rabbit. “Does it matter?”
“I just like to know,” said Pooh humbly. “So as I can say to myself: Ive got fourteen pots of honey left. Or fifteen, as the case may be. Its sort of comforting.”
“Well, lets call it sixteen,” said Rabbit. “What I came to say was: Have you seen Small anywhere about?”
“I dont think so,” said Pooh. And then, after thinking a little more, he said: “Who is Small?”
“One of my friends-and-relations,” said Rabbit carelessly.
This didnt help Pooh much, because Rabbit had so many friends-and-relations, and of such different sorts and sizes, that he didnt know whether he ought to be looking for Small at the top of an oak-tree or in the petal of a buttercup.
“I havent seen anybody today,” said Pooh, “not so as to say Hallo, Small, to. Did you want him for anything?”
“*I* dont *want* him,” said Rabbit. “But its always useful to know where a friend-and-relation *is*, whether you want him or whether you dont.”
“Oh, I see,” said Pooh. “Is he lost?”
“Well,” said Rabbit, “nobody has seen him for a long time, so I suppose he is. Anyhow,” he went on importantly, “I promised Christopher Robin Id Organize a Search for him, so come on.”
Pooh said goodbye affectionately to his fourteen pots of honey, and hoped they were fifteen; and he and Rabbit went out into the Forest.
“Now,” said Rabbit, “this is a Search, and Ive Organized it—”
“Done what to it?” said Pooh.
“Organized it. Which means—well, its what you do to a Search, when you dont all look in the same place at once. So I want *you*, Pooh, to search by the Six Pine Trees first, and then work your way towards Owls House, and look out for me there. Do you see?”
“No,” said Pooh. “What—”
“Then Ill see you at Owls House in about an hours time.”
“Is Piglet organdized too?”
“We all are,” said Rabbit, and off he went.
* * *
As soon as Rabbit was out of sight, Pooh remembered that he had forgotten to ask who Small was, and whether he was the sort of friend-and-relation who settled on ones nose, or the sort who got trodden on by mistake, and as it was Too Late Now, he thought he would begin the Hunt by looking for Piglet, and asking him what they were looking for before he looked for it.
“And its no good looking at the Six Pine Trees for Piglet,” said Pooh to himself, “because hes been organdized in a special place of his own. So I shall have to look for the Special Place first. I wonder where it is.” And he wrote it down in his head like this:
> Order of Looking for Things
>
> 1. Special Place. (To find Piglet.)
>
> 2. Piglet. (To find who Small is.)
>
> 3. Small. (To find Small.)
>
> 4. Rabbit. (To tell him Ive found Small.)
>
> 5. Small Again. (To tell him Ive found Rabbit.)
“Which makes it look like a bothering sort of day,” thought Pooh, as he stumped along.
The next moment the day became very bothering indeed, because Pooh was so busy not looking where he was going that he stepped on a piece of the Forest which had been left out by mistake; and he only just had time to think to himself: “Im flying. What Owl does. I wonder how you stop—” when he stopped.
*Bump!*
“Ow!” squeaked something.
“Thats funny,” thought Pooh. “I said Ow! without really ooing.”
“Help!” said a small, high voice.
“Thats me again,” thought Pooh. “Ive had an Accident, and fallen down a well, and my voice has gone all squeaky and works before Im ready for it, because Ive done something to myself inside. Bother!”
“Help—help!”
“There you are! I say things when Im not trying. So it must be a very bad Accident.” And then he thought that perhaps when he did try to say things he wouldnt be able to; so, to make sure, he said loudly: “A Very Bad Accident to Pooh Bear.”
“Pooh!” squeaked the voice.
“Its Piglet!” cried Pooh eagerly. “Where are you?”
“Underneath,” said Piglet in an underneath sort of way.
“Underneath what?”
“You,” squeaked Piglet. “Get up!”
“Oh!” said Pooh, and scrambled up as quickly as he could. “Did I fall on you, Piglet?”
“You fell on me,” said Piglet, feeling himself all over.
“I didnt mean to,” said Pooh sorrowfully.
“I didnt mean to be underneath,” said Piglet sadly. “But Im all right now, Pooh, and I *am* so glad it was you.”
“Whats happened?” said Pooh. “Where are we?”
“I think were in a sort of Pit. I was walking along, looking for somebody, and then suddenly I wasnt any more, and just when I got up to see where I was, something fell on me. And it was you.”
“So it was,” said Pooh.
“Yes,” said Piglet. “Pooh,” he went on nervously, and came a little closer, “do you think were in a Trap?”
Pooh hadnt thought about it at all, but now he nodded. For suddenly he remembered how he and Piglet had once made a Pooh Trap for Heffalumps, and he guessed what had happened. He and Piglet had fallen into a Heffalump Trap for Poohs! That was what it was.
“What happens when the Heffalump comes?” asked Piglet tremblingly, when he had heard the news.
“Perhaps he wont notice *you*, Piglet,” said Pooh encouragingly, “because youre a Very Small Animal.”
“But hell notice *you*, Pooh.”
“Hell notice *me*, and I shall notice *him*,” said Pooh, thinking it out. “Well notice each other for a long time, and then hell say: Ho-*ho*!’ ”
Piglet shivered a little at the thought of that “Ho-*ho*!” and his ears began to twitch.
“W-what will *you* say?” he asked.
Pooh tried to think of something he would say, but the more he thought, the more he felt that there *is* no real answer to “Ho-*ho*!” said by a Heffalump in the sort of voice this Heffalump was going to say it in.
“I shant say anything,” said Pooh at last. “I shall just hum to myself, as if I was waiting for something.”
“Then perhaps hell say, Ho-*ho*! again?” suggested Piglet anxiously.
“He will,” said Pooh.
Piglets ears twitched so quickly that he had to lean them against the side of the Trap to keep them quiet.
“He will say it again,” said Pooh, “and I shall go on humming. And that will Upset him. Because when you say Ho-*ho* twice, in a gloating sort of way, and the other person only hums, you suddenly find, just as you begin to say it the third time—that—well, you find—”
“What?”
“That it isnt,” said Pooh.
“Isnt what?”
Pooh knew what he meant, but, being a Bear of Very Little Brain, couldnt think of the words.
“Well, it just isnt,” he said again.
“You mean it isnt ho-*ho*-ish any more?” said Piglet hopefully.
Pooh looked at him admiringly and said that that was what he meant—if you went on humming all the time, because you couldnt go on saying “Ho-*ho*!” forever.
“But hell say something else,” said Piglet.
“Thats just it. Hell say: Whats all this? And then *I* shall say—and this is a very good idea, Piglet, which Ive just thought of—*I* shall say: Its a trap for a Heffalump which Ive made, and Im waiting for the Heffalump to fall in. And I shall go on humming. That will Unsettle him.”
“Pooh!” cried Piglet, and now it was *his* turn to be the admiring one. “Youve saved us!”
“Have I?” said Pooh, not feeling quite sure.
But Piglet was quite sure; and his mind ran on, and he saw Pooh and the Heffalump talking to each other, and he thought suddenly, and a little sadly, that it *would* have been rather nice if it had been Piglet and the Heffalump talking so grandly to each other, and not Pooh, much as he loved Pooh; because he really had more brain than Pooh, and the conversation would go better if he and not Pooh were doing one side of it, and it would be comforting afterwards in the evenings to look back on the day when he answered a Heffalump back as bravely as if the Heffalump wasnt there. It seemed so easy now. He knew just what he would say:
| Heffalump | *Gloatingly.* “Ho-*ho*!” |
| Piglet | *Carelessly.* “Tra-la-la, tra-la-la.” |
| Heffalump | *Surprised, and not quite so sure of himself.* “Ho-*ho*!” |
| Piglet | *More carelessly still.* “Tiddle-um-tum, tiddle-um-tum.” |
| Heffalump | *Beginning to say Ho-ho and turning it awkwardly into a cough.* “Hrm! Whats all this?” |
| Piglet | *Surprised.* “Hullo! This is a trap Ive made, and Im waiting for a **Heffalump** to fall into it.” |
| Heffalump | *Greatly disappointed.* “Oh!” *After a long silence.* “Are you sure?” |
| Piglet | “Yes.” |
| Piglet | “Oh!” *Nervously.* “I—I thought it was a trap *Id* made to catch Piglets.” |
| Piglet | *Surprised.* “Oh, no!” |
| Heffalump | “Oh!” *Apologetically.* “I—I must have got it wrong, then.” |
| Piglet | “Im afraid so.” *Politely.* “Im sorry.” *He goes on humming.* |
| Heffalump | “Well—well—I—well. I suppose Id better be getting back?” |
| Piglet | *Looking up carelessly.* “Must you? Well, if you see Christopher Robin anywhere, you might tell him I want him.” |
| Heffalump | *Eager to please.* “Certainly! Certainly!” *He hurries off.* |
| Pooh | *Who wasnt going to be there, but we find we cant do without him.* “Oh, Piglet, how brave and clever you are!” |
| Piglet | *Modestly.* “Not at all, Pooh.” *And then, when Christopher Robin comes, Pooh can tell him all about it.* |
While Piglet was dreaming this happy dream, and Pooh was wondering again whether it was fourteen or fifteen, the Search for Small was still going on all over the Forest. Smalls real name was Very Small Beetle, but he was called Small for short, when he was spoken to at all, which hardly ever happened except when somebody said: “*Really*, Small!” He had been staying with Christopher Robin for a few seconds, and he started round a gorse-bush for exercise, but instead of coming back the other way, as expected, he hadnt, so nobody knew where he was.
“I expect hes just gone home,” said Christopher Robin to Rabbit.
“Did he say Goodbye-and-thank-you-for-a-nice-time?” said Rabbit.
“Hed only just said how-do-you-do,” said Christopher Robin.
“Ha!” said Rabbit. After thinking a little, he went on: “Has he written a letter saying how much he enjoyed himself, and how sorry he was he had to go so suddenly?”
Christopher Robin didnt think he had.
“Ha!” said Rabbit again, and looked very important. “This is Serious. He is Lost. We must begin the Search at once.”
Christopher Robin, who was thinking of something else, said: “Wheres Pooh?”—but Rabbit had gone. So he went into his house and drew a picture of Pooh going on a long walk at about seven oclock in the morning, and then he climbed to the top of his tree and climbed down again, and then he wondered what Pooh was doing, and went across the Forest to see.
It was not long before he came to the Gravel Pit, and he looked down, and there were Pooh and Piglet, with their backs to him, dreaming happily.
“Ho-*ho*!” said Christopher Robin loudly and suddenly.
Piglet jumped six inches in the air with Surprise and Anxiety, but Pooh went on dreaming.
“Its the Heffalump!” thought Piglet nervously. “Now, then!” He hummed in his throat a little, so that none of the words should stick, and then, in the most delightfully easy way, he said: “Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,” as if he had just thought of it. But he didnt look round, because if you look round and see a Very Fierce Heffalump looking down at you, sometimes you forget what you were going to say. “Rum-tum-tum-tiddle-um,” said Christopher Robin in a voice like Poohs. Because Pooh had once invented a song which went:
> Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,
> Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,
> Rum-tum-tum-tiddle-um.
So whenever Christopher Robin sings it, he always sings it in a Pooh-voice, which seems to suit it better.
“Hes said the wrong thing,” thought Piglet anxiously. “He ought to have said, Ho-*ho*! again. Perhaps I had better say it for him.” And, as fiercely as he could, Piglet said: “Ho-*ho*!”
“How *did* you get there, Piglet?” said Christopher Robin in his ordinary voice.
“This is Terrible,” thought Piglet. “First he talks in Poohs voice, and then he talks in Christopher Robins voice, and hes doing it so as to Unsettle me.” And being now Completely Unsettled, he said very quickly and squeakily: “This is a trap for Poohs, and Im waiting to fall in it, ho-*ho*, whats all this, and then I say ho-*ho* again.”
“*What?*” said Christopher Robin.
“A trap for ho-hos,” said Piglet huskily. “Ive just made it, and Im waiting for the ho-ho to come-come.”
How long Piglet would have gone on like this I dont know, but at that moment Pooh woke up suddenly and decided that it was sixteen. So he got up; and as he turned his head so as to soothe himself in that awkward place in the middle of the back where something was tickling him, he saw Christopher Robin.
“Hallo!” he shouted joyfully.
“Hallo, Pooh.”
Piglet looked up, and looked away again. And he felt so Foolish and Uncomfortable that he had almost decided to run away to Sea and be a Sailor, when suddenly he saw something.
“Pooh!” he cried. “Theres something climbing up your back.”
“I thought there was,” said Pooh.
“Its Small!” cried Piglet.
“Oh, *thats* who it is, is it?” said Pooh.
“Christopher Robin, Ive found Small!” cried Piglet.
“Well done, Piglet,” said Christopher Robin.
And at these encouraging words Piglet felt quite happy again, and decided not to be a Sailor after all. So when Christopher Robin had helped them out of the Gravel Pit, they all went off together hand-in-hand.
And two days later Rabbit happened to meet Eeyore in the Forest.
“Hallo, Eeyore,” he said, “what are *you* looking for?”
“Small, of course,” said Eeyore. “Havent you any brain?”
“Oh, but didnt I tell you?” said Rabbit. “Small was found two days ago.”
There was a moments silence.
“Ha-ha,” said Eeyore bitterly. “Merriment and whatnot. Dont apologize. Its just what *would* happen.”

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# IV
One day when Pooh was thinking, he thought he would go and see Eeyore, because he hadnt seen him since yesterday. And as he walked through the heather, singing to himself, he suddenly remembered that he hadnt seen Owl since the day before yesterday, so he thought that he would just look in at the Hundred Acre Wood on the way and see if Owl was at home.
Well, he went on singing, until he came to the part of the stream where the stepping-stones were, and when he was in the middle of the third stone he began to wonder how Kanga and Roo and Tigger were getting on, because they all lived together in a different part of the Forest. And he thought, “I havent seen Roo for a long time, and if I dont see him today it will be a still longer time.” So he sat down on the stone in the middle of the stream, and sang another verse of his song, while he wondered what to do.
The other verse of the song was like this:
> I could spend a happy morning
> Seeing Roo,
> I could spend a happy morning
> Being Pooh.
> For it doesnt seem to matter,
> If I dont get any fatter
> (And I *dont* get any fatter),
> What I do.
The sun was so delightfully warm, and the stone, which had been sitting in it for a long time, was so warm, too, that Pooh had almost decided to go on being Pooh in the middle of the stream for the rest of the morning, when he remembered Rabbit.
“Rabbit,” said Pooh to himself. “I *like* talking to Rabbit. He talks about sensible things. He doesnt use long, difficult words, like Owl. He uses short, easy words, like What about lunch? and Help yourself, Pooh. I suppose *really*, I ought to go and see Rabbit.”
Which made him think of another verse:
> Oh, I like his way of talking,
> Yes, I do.
> Its the nicest way of talking
> Just for two.
> And a Help-yourself with Rabbit
> Though it may become a habit,
> Is a *pleasant* sort of habit
> For a Pooh.
So when he had sung this, he got up off his stone, walked back across the stream, and set off for Rabbits house.
But he hadnt got far before he began to say to himself:
“Yes, but suppose Rabbit is out?”
“Or suppose I get stuck in his front door again, coming out, as I did once when his front door wasnt big enough?”
“Because I *know* Im not getting fatter, but his front door may be getting thinner.”
“So wouldnt it be better if—”
And all the time he was saying things like this he was going more and more westerly, without thinking… until suddenly he found himself at his own front door again.
And it was eleven oclock.
Which was Time-for-a-little-something. …
Half an hour later he was doing what he had always really meant to do, he was stumping off to Piglets house. And as he walked, he wiped his mouth with the back of his paw, and sang rather a fluffy song through the fur. It went like this:
> I could spend a happy morning
> Seeing Piglet.
> And I couldnt spend a happy morning
> Not seeing Piglet.
> And it doesnt seem to matter
> If I dont see Owl and Eeyore
> (or any of the others),
> And Im not going to see Owl or Eeyore
> (or any of the others)
> Or Christopher Robin.
Written down, like this, it doesnt seem a very good song, but coming through pale fawn fluff at about half-past eleven on a very sunny morning, it seemed to Pooh to be one of the best songs he had ever sung. So he went on singing it.
Piglet was busy digging a small hole in the ground outside his house.
“Hallo, Piglet,” said Pooh.
“Hallo, Pooh,” said Piglet, giving a jump of surprise. “I knew it was you.”
“So did I,” said Pooh. “What are you doing?”
“Im planting a haycorn, Pooh, so that it can grow up into an oak-tree, and have lots of haycorns just outside the front door instead of having to walk miles and miles, do you see, Pooh?”
“Supposing it doesnt?” said Pooh.
“It will, because Christopher Robin says it will, so thats why Im planting it.”
“Well,” said Pooh, “if I plant a honeycomb outside my house, then it will grow up into a beehive.”
Piglet wasnt quite sure about this.
“Or a *piece* of a honeycomb,” said Pooh, “so as not to waste too much. Only then I might only get a piece of a beehive, and it might be the wrong piece, where the bees were buzzing and not hunnying. Bother.”
Piglet agreed that that would be rather bothering.
“Besides, Pooh, its a very difficult thing, planting unless you know how to do it,” he said; and he put the acorn in the hole he had made, and covered it up with earth, and jumped on it.
“I do know,” said Pooh, “because Christopher Robin gave me a mastershalum seed, and I planted it, and Im going to have mastershalums all over the front door.”
“I thought they were called nasturtiums,” said Piglet timidly, as he went on jumping.
“No,” said Pooh. “Not these. These are called mastershalums.”
When Piglet had finished jumping, he wiped his paws on his front, and said, “What shall we do now?” and Pooh said, “Lets go and see Kanga and Roo and Tigger,” and Piglet said, “Y-yes. L-lets”—because he was still a little anxious about Tigger, who was a Very Bouncy Animal, with a way of saying How-do-you-do, which always left your ears full of sand, even after Kanga had said, “Gently, Tigger dear,” and had helped you up again. So they set off for Kangas house.
* * *
Now it happened that Kanga had felt rather motherly that morning, and Wanting to Count Things—like Roos vests, and how many pieces of soap there were left, and the two clean spots in Tiggers feeder; so she had sent them out with a packet of watercress sandwiches for Roo and a packet of extract-of-malt sandwiches for Tigger, to have a nice long morning in the Forest not getting into mischief. And off they had gone.
And as they went, Tigger told Roo (who wanted to know) all about the things that Tiggers could do.
“Can they fly?” asked Roo.
“Yes,” said Tigger, “theyre very good flyers, Tiggers are. Stornry good flyers.”
“Oo!” said Roo. “Can they fly as well as Owl?”
“Yes,” said Tigger. “Only they dont want to.”
“Why dont they want to?”
“Well, they just dont like it, somehow.”
Roo couldnt understand this, because he thought it would be lovely to be able to fly, but Tigger said it was difficult to explain to anybody who wasnt a Tigger himself.
“Well,” said Roo, “can they jump as far as Kangas?”
“Yes,” said Tigger. “When they want to.”
“I *love* jumping,” said Roo. “Lets see who can jump farthest, you or me.”
“*I* can,” said Tigger. “But we mustnt stop now, or we shall be late.”
“Late for what?”
“For whatever we want to be in time for,” said Tigger, hurrying on.
In a little while they came to the Six Pine Trees.
“I can swim,” said Roo. “I fell into the river, and I swimmed. Can Tiggers swim?”
“Of course they can. Tiggers can do everything.”
“Can they climb trees better than Pooh?” asked Roo, stopping under the tallest Pine Tree, and looking up at it.
“Climbing trees is what they do best,” said Tigger. “Much better than Poohs.”
“Could they climb this one?”
“Theyre always climbing trees like that,” said Tigger. “Up and down all day.”
“Oo, Tigger, are they *really*?”
“Ill show you,” said Tigger bravely, “and you can sit on my back and watch me.” For of all the things which he had said Tiggers could do, the only one he felt really certain about suddenly was climbing trees.
“Oo, Tigger, oo, Tigger, oo, Tigger!” squeaked Roo excitedly.
So he sat on Tiggers back and up they went.
And for the first ten feet Tigger said happily to himself, “Up we go!”
And for the next ten feet he said:
“I always *said* Tiggers could climb trees.”
And for the next ten feet he said:
“Not that its easy, mind you.”
And for the next ten feet he said:
“Of course, theres the coming-down too. Backwards.”
And then he said:
“Which will be difficult…”
“Unless one fell…”
“When it would be…”
“**Easy**.”
And at the word “easy” the branch he was standing on broke suddenly, and he just managed to clutch at the one above him as he felt himself going… and then slowly he got his chin over it… and then one back paw… and then the other… until at last he was sitting on it, breathing very quickly, and wishing that he had gone in for swimming instead.
Roo climbed off, and sat down next to him.
“Oo, Tigger,” he said excitedly, “are we at the top?”
“No,” said Tigger.
“Are we going to the top?”
“No,” said Tigger.
“Oh!” said Roo rather sadly. And then he went on hopefully: “That was a lovely bit just now, when you pretended we were going to fall-bump-to-the-bottom, and we didnt. Will you do that bit again?”
“**No**,” said Tigger.
Roo was silent for a little while, and then he said, “Shall we eat our sandwiches, Tigger?” And Tigger said, “Yes, where are they?” And Roo said, “At the bottom of the tree.” And Tigger said, “I dont think wed better eat them just yet.” So they didnt.
* * *
By and by Pooh and Piglet came along. Pooh was telling Piglet in a singing voice that it didnt seem to matter, if he didnt get any fatter, and he didnt *think* he was getting any fatter, what he did; and Piglet was wondering how long it would be before his haycorn came up.
“Look, Pooh!” said Piglet suddenly. “Theres something in one of the Pine Trees.”
“So there is!” said Pooh, looking up wonderingly. “Theres an Animal.”
Piglet took Poohs arm, in case Pooh was frightened.
“Is it One of the Fiercer Animals?” he said, looking the other way.
Pooh nodded.
“Its a Jagular,” he said.
“What do Jagulars do?” asked Piglet, hoping that they wouldnt.
“They hide in the branches of trees, and drop on you as you go underneath,” said Pooh. “Christopher Robin told me.”
“Perhaps we better hadnt go underneath, Pooh. In case he dropped and hurt himself.”
“They dont hurt themselves,” said Pooh. “Theyre such very good droppers.”
Piglet still felt that to be underneath a Very Good Dropper would be a Mistake, and he was just going to hurry back for something which he had forgotten when the Jagular called out to them.
“Help! Help!” it called.
“Thats what Jagulars always do,” said Pooh, much interested. “They call Help! Help! and then when you look up, they drop on you.”
“Im looking *down*,” cried Piglet loudly, so as the Jagular shouldnt do the wrong thing by accident.
Something very excited next to the Jagular heard him, and squeaked:
“Pooh and Piglet! Pooh and Piglet!”
All of a sudden Piglet felt that it was a much nicer day than he had thought it was. All warm and sunny
“Pooh!” he cried. “I believe its Tigger and Roo!”
“So it is,” said Pooh. “I thought it was a Jagular and another Jagular.”
“Hallo, Roo!” called Piglet. “What are you doing?”
“We cant get down, we cant get down!” cried Roo. “Isnt it fun? Pooh, isnt it fun, Tigger and I are living in a tree, like Owl, and were going to stay here forever and ever. I can see Piglets house. Piglet, I can see your house from here. Arent we high? Is Owls house as high up as this?”
“How did you get there, Roo?” asked Piglet.
“On Tiggers back! And Tiggers cant climb downwards, because their tails get in the way, only upwards, and Tigger forgot about that when we started, and hes only just remembered. So weve got to stay here forever and ever—unless we go higher. What did you say, Tigger? Oh, Tigger says if we go higher we shant be able to see Piglets house so well, so were going to stop here.”
“Piglet,” said Pooh solemnly, when he had heard all this, “what shall we do?” And he began to eat Tiggers sandwiches.
“Are they stuck?” asked Piglet anxiously.
Pooh nodded.
“Couldnt you climb up to them?”
“I might, Piglet, and I might bring Roo down on my back, but I couldnt bring Tigger down. So we must think of something else.” And in a thoughtful way he began to eat Roos sandwiches, too.
* * *
Whether he would have thought of anything before he had finished the last sandwich, I dont know, but he had just got to the last but one when there was a crackling in the bracken, and Christopher Robin and Eeyore came strolling along together.
“I shouldnt be surprised if it hailed a good deal tomorrow,” Eeyore was saying. “Blizzards and whatnot. Being fine today doesnt Mean Anything. It has no sig—whats that word? Well, it has none of that. Its just a small piece of weather.”
“Theres Pooh!” said Christopher Robin, who didnt much mind *what* it did tomorrow, as long as he was out in it. “Hallo, Pooh!”
“Its Christopher Robin!” said Piglet. “*Hell* know what to do.”
They hurried up to him.
“Oh, Christopher Robin,” began Pooh.
“And Eeyore,” said Eeyore.
“Tigger and Roo are right up the Six Pine Trees, and they cant get down, and—”
“And I was just saying,” put in Piglet, “that if only Christopher Robin—”
“*And* Eeyore—”
“If only you were here, then we could think of something to do.”
Christopher Robin looked up at Tigger and Roo, and tried to think of something.
“*I* thought,” said Piglet earnestly, “that if Eeyore stood at the bottom of the tree, and if Pooh stood on Eeyores back, and if I stood on Poohs shoulders—”
“And if Eeyores back snapped suddenly, then we could all laugh. Ha ha! Amusing in a quiet way,” said Eeyore, “but not really helpful.”
“Well,” said Piglet meekly, “*I* thought—”
“Would it break your back, Eeyore?” asked Pooh, very much surprised.
“Thats what would be so interesting, Pooh. Not being quite sure till afterwards.”
Pooh said “Oh!” and they all began to think again.
“Ive got an idea!” cried Christopher Robin suddenly.
“Listen to this, Piglet,” said Eeyore, “and then youll know what were trying to do.”
“Ill take off my tunic and well each hold a corner, and then Roo and Tigger can jump into it, and it will be all soft and bouncy for them, and they wont hurt themselves.”
“*Getting Tigger down*,” said Eeyore, “and *Not hurting anybody*. Keep those two ideas in your head, Piglet, and youll be all right.”
But Piglet wasnt listening, he was so agog at the thought of seeing Christopher Robins blue braces again. He had only seen them once before, when he was much younger, and, being a little overexcited by them, had had to go to bed half an hour earlier than usual; and he had always wondered since if they were *really* as blue and as bracing as he had thought them. So when Christopher Robin took his tunic off, and they were, he felt quite friendly to Eeyore again, and held the corner of the tunic next to him and smiled happily at him. And Eeyore whispered back: “Im not saying there wont be an Accident *now*, mind you. Theyre funny things, Accidents. You never have them till youre having them.”
When Roo understood what he had to do, he was wildly excited, and cried out: “Tigger, Tigger, were going to jump! Look at me jumping, Tigger! Like flying, my jumping will be. Can Tiggers do it?” And he squeaked out: “Im coming, Christopher Robin!” and he jumped—straight into the middle of the tunic. And he was going so fast that he bounced up again almost as high as where he was before—and went on bouncing and saying, “Oo!” for quite a long time—and then at last he stopped and said, “Oo, lovely!” And they put him on the ground.
“Come on, Tigger,” he called out. “Its easy.”
But Tigger was holding on to the branch and saying to himself: “Its all very well for Jumping Animals like Kangas, but its quite different for Swimming Animals like Tiggers.” And he thought of himself floating on his back down a river, or striking out from one island to another, and he felt that that was really the life for a Tigger.
“Come along,” called Christopher Robin. “Youll be all right.”
“Just wait a moment,” said Tigger nervously. “Small piece of bark in my eye.” And he moved slowly along his branch.
“Come on, its easy!” squeaked Roo. And suddenly Tigger found how easy it was.
“Ow!” he shouted as the tree flew past him.
“Look out!” cried Christopher Robin to the others.
There was a crash, and a tearing noise, and a confused heap of everybody on the ground.
Christopher Robin and Pooh and Piglet picked themselves up first, and then they picked Tigger up, and underneath everybody else was Eeyore.
“Oh, Eeyore!” cried Christopher Robin. “Are you hurt?” And he felt him rather anxiously, and dusted him and helped him to stand up again.
Eeyore said nothing for a long time. And then he said: “Is Tigger there?”
Tigger was there, feeling Bouncy again already.
“Yes,” said Christopher Robin. “Tiggers here.”
“Well, just thank him for me,” said Eeyore.

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# V
It was going to be one of Rabbits busy days. As soon as he woke up he felt important, as if everything depended upon him. It was just the day for Organizing Something, or for Writing a Notice Signed Rabbit, or for Seeing What Everybody Else Thought About It. It was a perfect morning for hurrying round to Pooh, and saying, “Very well, then, Ill tell Piglet,” and then going to Piglet, and saying, “Pooh thinks—but perhaps Id better see Owl first.” It was a Captainish sort of day, when everybody said, “Yes, Rabbit” and “No, Rabbit,” and waited until he had told them.
He came out of his house and sniffed the warm spring morning as he wondered what he would do. Kangas house was nearest, and at Kangas house was Roo, who said “Yes, Rabbit” and “No, Rabbit” almost better than anybody else in the Forest; but there was another animal there nowadays, the strange and Bouncy Tigger; and he was the sort of Tigger who was always in front when you were showing him the way anywhere, and was generally out of sight when at last you came to the place and said proudly “Here we are!”
“No, not Kangas,” said Rabbit thoughtfully to himself, as he curled his whiskers in the sun; and, to make quite sure that he wasnt going there, he turned to the left and trotted off in the other direction, which was the way to Christopher Robins house.
“After all,” said Rabbit to himself, “Christopher Robin depends on Me. Hes fond of Pooh and Piglet and Eeyore, and so am I, but they havent any Brain. Not to notice. And he respects Owl, because you cant help respecting anybody who can spell **Tuesday**, even if he doesnt spell it right; but spelling isnt everything. There are days when spelling Tuesday simply doesnt count. And Kanga is too busy looking after Roo, and Roo is too young and Tigger is too bouncy to be any help, so theres really nobody but Me, when you come to look at it. Ill go and see if theres anything he wants doing, and then Ill do it for him. Its just the day for doing things.”
He trotted along happily, and by-and-by he crossed the stream and came to the place where his friends-and-relations lived. There seemed to be even more of them about than usual this morning, and having nodded to a hedgehog or two, with whom he was too busy to shake hands, and having said, “Good morning, good morning,” importantly to some of the others, and “Ah, there you are,” kindly, to the smaller ones, he waved a paw at them over his shoulder, and was gone; leaving such an air of excitement and I-dont-know-what behind him, that several members of the Beetle family, including Henry Rush, made their way at once to the Hundred Acre Wood and began climbing trees, in the hope of getting to the top before it happened, whatever it was, so that they might see it properly.
Rabbit hurried on by the edge of the Hundred Acre Wood, feeling more important every minute, and soon he came to the tree where Christopher Robin lived. He knocked at the door, and he called out once or twice, and then he walked back a little way and put his paw up to keep the sun out, and called to the top of the tree, and then he turned all round and shouted “Hallo!” and “I say!” “Its Rabbit!”—but nothing happened. Then he stopped and listened, and everything stopped and listened with him, and the Forest was very lone and still and peaceful in the sunshine, until suddenly a hundred miles above him a lark began to sing.
“Bother!” said Rabbit. “Hes gone out.”
He went back to the green front door, just to make sure, and he was turning away, feeling that his morning had got all spoilt, when he saw a piece of paper on the ground. And there was a pin in it, as if it had fallen off the door.
“Ha!” said Rabbit, feeling quite happy again. “Another notice!”
This is what it said:
> Gon out
> Backson
> Bisy
> Backson.
>
> C. R.
“Ha!” said Rabbit again. “I must tell the others.” And he hurried off importantly.
The nearest house was Owls, and to Owls House in the Hundred Acre Wood he made his way. He came to Owls door, and he knocked and he rang, and he rang and he knocked, and at last Owls head came out and said “Go away, Im thinking—oh its you?” which was how he always began.
“Owl,” said Rabbit shortly, “you and I have brains. The others have fluff. If there is any thinking to be done in this Forest—and when I say thinking I mean *thinking*—you and I must do it.”
“Yes,” said Owl. “I was.”
“Read that.”
Owl took Christopher Robins notice from Rabbit and looked at it nervously. He could spell his own name **Wol**, and he could spell Tuesday so that you knew it wasnt Wednesday, and he could read quite comfortably when you werent looking over his shoulder and saying “Well?” all the time, and he could
“Well?” said Rabbit.
“Yes,” said Owl, looking Wise and Thoughtful. “I see what you mean. Undoubtedly.”
“Well?”
“Exactly,” said Owl. “Precisely.” And he added, after a little thought, “If you had not come to me, I should have come to you.”
“Why?” asked Rabbit.
“For that very reason,” said Owl, hoping that something helpful would happen soon.
“Yesterday morning,” said Rabbit solemnly, “I went to see Christopher Robin. He was out. Pinned on his door was a notice.”
“The same notice?”
“A different one. But the meaning was the same. Its very odd.”
“Amazing,” said Owl, looking at the notice again, and getting, just for a moment, a curious sort of feeling that something had happened to Christopher Robins back. “What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“The best thing,” said Owl wisely.
“Well?” said Rabbit again, as Owl knew he was going to.
“Exactly,” said Owl.
For a little while he couldnt think of anything more; and then, all of a sudden, he had an idea.
“Tell me, Rabbit,” he said, “the *exact* words of the first notice. This is very important. Everything depends on this. The *exact* words of the *first* notice.”
“It was just the same as that one really.”
Owl looked at him, and wondered whether to push him off the tree; but, feeling that he could always do it afterwards, he tried once more to find out what they were talking about.
“The exact words, please,” he said, as if Rabbit hadnt spoken.
“It just said, Gon out. Backson. Same as this, only this says Bisy Backson too.”
Owl gave a great sigh of relief.
“Ah!” said Owl. “*Now* we know where we are.”
“Yes, but wheres Christopher Robin?” said Rabbit. “Thats the point.”
Owl looked at the notice again. To one of his education the reading of it was easy. “Gone out, Backson. Bisy, Backson”—just the sort of thing youd expect to see on a notice.
“It is quite clear what has happened, my dear Rabbit,” he said. “Christopher Robin has gone out somewhere with Backson. He and Backson are busy together. Have you seen a Backson anywhere about in the Forest lately?”
“I dont know,” said Rabbit. “Thats what I came to ask you. What are they like?”
“Well,” said Owl, “the Spotted or Herbaceous Backson is just a—”
“At least,” he said, “its really more of a—”
“Of course,” he said, “it depends on the—”
“Well,” said Owl, “the fact is,” he said, “I dont know *what* theyre like,” said Owl frankly.
“Thank you,” said Rabbit. And he hurried off to see Pooh.
Before he had gone very far he heard a noise. So he stopped and listened. This was the noise.
> Noise, by Pooh
>
> Oh, the butterflies are flying,
> Now the winter days are dying,
> And the primroses are trying
> To be seen.
>
> And the turtle-doves are cooing,
> And the woods are up and doing,
> For the violets are blue-ing
> In the green.
>
> Oh, the honey-bees are gumming
> On their little wings, and humming
> That the summer, which is coming,
> Will be fun.
>
> And the cows are almost cooing,
> And the turtle-doves are mooing,
> Which is why a Pooh is poohing
> In the sun.
>
> For the spring is really springing;
> You can see a skylark singing,
> And the blue-bells, which are ringing,
> Can be heard.
>
> And the cuckoo isnt cooing,
> But hes cucking and hes ooing,
> And a Pooh is simply poohing
> Like a bird.
“Hallo, Pooh,” said Rabbit.
“Hallo, Rabbit,” said Pooh dreamily.
“Did you make that song up?”
“Well, I sort of made it up,” said Pooh. “It isnt Brain,” he went on humbly, “because You Know Why, Rabbit; but it comes to me sometimes.”
“Ah!” said Rabbit, who never let things come to him, but always went and fetched them. “Well, the point is, have you seen a Spotted or Herbaceous Backson in the Forest, at all?”
“No,” said Pooh. “Not a—no,” said Pooh. “I saw Tigger just now.”
“Thats no good.”
“No,” said Pooh. “I thought it wasnt.”
“Have you seen Piglet?”
“Yes,” said Pooh. “I suppose *that* isnt any good either?” he asked meekly.
“Well, it depends if he saw anything.”
“He saw me,” said Pooh.
Rabbit sat down on the ground next to Pooh and, feeling much less important like that, stood up again.
“What it all comes to is this,” he said. “*What does Christopher Robin do in the morning nowadays?*”
“What sort of thing?”
“Well, can you tell me anything youve seen him do in the morning? These last few days.”
“Yes,” said Pooh. “We had breakfast together yesterday. By the Pine Trees. Id made up a little basket, just a little, fair-sized basket, an ordinary biggish sort of basket, full of—”
“Yes, yes,” said Rabbit, “but I mean later than that. Have you seen him between eleven and twelve?”
“Well,” said Pooh, “at eleven oclock—at eleven oclock—well, at eleven oclock, you see, I generally get home about then. Because I have One or Two Things to Do.”
“Quarter past eleven, then?”
“Well—” said Pooh.
“Half past.”
“Yes,” said Pooh. “At half past—or perhaps later—I might see him.”
And now that he did think of it, he began to remember that he *hadnt* seen Christopher Robin about so much lately. Not in the mornings. Afternoons, yes; evenings, yes; before breakfast, yes; just after breakfast, yes. And then, perhaps, “See you again, Pooh,” and off hed go.
“Thats just it,” said Rabbit. “Where?”
“Perhaps hes looking for something.”
“What?” asked Rabbit.
“Thats just what I was going to say,” said Pooh. And then he added, “Perhaps hes looking for a—for a—”
“A Spotted or Herbaceous Backson?”
“Yes,” said Pooh. “One of those. In case it isnt.”
Rabbit looked at him severely.
“I dont think youre helping,” he said.
“No,” said Pooh. “I do try,” he added humbly.
Rabbit thanked him for trying, and said that he would now go and see Eeyore, and Pooh could walk with him if he liked. But Pooh, who felt another verse of his song coming on him, said he would wait for Piglet, goodbye, Rabbit; so Rabbit went off.
But, as it happened, it was Rabbit who saw Piglet first. Piglet had got up early that morning to pick himself a bunch of violets; and when he had picked them and put them in a pot in the middle of his house, it suddenly came over him that nobody had ever picked Eeyore a bunch of violets, and the more he thought of this, the more he thought how sad it was to be an Animal who had never had a bunch of violets picked for him. So he hurried out again, saying to himself, “Eeyore, Violets,” and then “Violets, Eeyore,” in case he forgot, because it was that sort of day, and he picked a large bunch and trotted along, smelling them, and feeling very happy, until he came to the place where Eeyore was.
“Oh, Eeyore,” began Piglet a little nervously, because Eeyore was busy.
Eeyore put out a paw and waved him away.
“Tomorrow,” said Eeyore. “Or the next day.”
Piglet came a little closer to see what it was. Eeyore had three sticks on the ground, and was looking at them. Two of the sticks were touching at one end, but not at the other, and the third stick was laid across them. Piglet thought that perhaps it was a Trap of some kind.
“Oh, Eeyore,” he began again, “just—”
“Is that little Piglet?” said Eeyore, still looking hard at his sticks.
“Yes, Eeyore, and I—”
“Do you know what this is?”
“No,” said Piglet.
“Its an A.”
“Oh,” said Piglet.
“Not O, A,” said Eeyore severely. “Cant you *hear*, or do you think you have more education than Christopher Robin?”
“Yes,” said Piglet. “No,” said Piglet very quickly. And he came closer still.
“Christopher Robin said it was an A, and an A it is—until somebody treads on me,” Eeyore added sternly.
Piglet jumped backwards hurriedly, and smelt at his violets.
“Do you know what A means, little Piglet?”
“No, Eeyore, I dont.”
“It means Learning, it means Education, it means all the things that you and Pooh havent got. Thats what A means.”
“Oh,” said Piglet again. “I mean, does it?” he explained quickly.
“Im telling you. People come and go in this Forest, and they say, Its only Eeyore, so it doesnt count. They walk to and fro saying Ha ha! But do they know anything about A? They dont. Its just three sticks to *them*. But to the Educated—mark this, little Piglet—to the Educated, not meaning Poohs and Piglets, its a great and glorious A. Not,” he added, “just something that anybody can come and *breathe* on.”
Piglet stepped back nervously, and looked round for help.
“Heres Rabbit,” he said gladly. “Hallo, Rabbit.”
Rabbit came up importantly, nodded to Piglet, and said, “Ah, Eeyore,” in the voice of one who would be saying “Goodbye” in about two more minutes.
“Theres just one thing I wanted to ask you, Eeyore. What happens to Christopher Robin in the mornings nowadays?”
“Whats this that Im looking at?” said Eeyore, still looking at it.
“Three sticks,” said Rabbit promptly.
“You see?” said Eeyore to Piglet. He turned to Rabbit. “I will now answer your question,” he said solemnly.
“Thank you,” said Rabbit.
“What does Christopher Robin do in the mornings? He learns. He becomes Educated. He instigorates—I *think* that is the word he mentioned, but I may be referring to something else—he instigorates Knowledge. In my small way I also, if I have the word right, am—am doing what he does. That, for instance, is—”
“An A,” said Rabbit, “but not a very good one. Well, I must get back and tell the others.”
Eeyore looked at his sticks and then he looked at Piglet.
“What did Rabbit say it was?” he asked.
“An A,” said Piglet.
“Did you tell him?”
“No, Eeyore, I didnt. I expect he just knew.”
“He *knew*? You mean this A thing is a thing *Rabbit* knew?”
“Yes, Eeyore. Hes clever, Rabbit is.”
“Clever!” said Eeyore scornfully, putting a foot heavily on his three sticks. “Education!” said Eeyore bitterly, jumping on his six sticks. “What is Learning?” asked Eeyore as he kicked his twelve sticks into the air. “A thing *Rabbit* knows! Ha!”
“I think—” began Piglet nervously.
“Dont,” said Eeyore.
“I think *Violets* are rather nice,” said Piglet. And he laid his bunch in front of Eeyore and scampered off.
Next morning the notice on Christopher Robins door said:
> Gone out
> Back soon
>
> C. R.
Which is why all the animals in the Forest—except, of course, the Spotted and Herbaceous Backson—now know what Christopher Robin does in the mornings.

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# VI
By the time it came to the edge of the Forest the stream had grown up, so that it was almost a river, and, being grown-up, it did not run and jump and sparkle along as it used to do when it was younger, but moved more slowly. For it knew now where it was going, and it said to itself, “There is no hurry. We shall get there someday.” But all the little streams higher up in the Forest went this way and that, quickly, eagerly, having so much to find out before it was too late.
There was a broad track, almost as broad as a road, leading from the Outland to the Forest, but before it could come to the Forest, it had to cross this river. So, where it crossed, there was a wooden bridge, almost as broad as a road, with wooden rails on each side of it. Christopher Robin could just get his chin to the top rail, if he wanted to, but it was more fun to stand on the bottom rail, so that he could lean right over, and watch the river slipping slowly away beneath him. Pooh could get his chin on to the bottom rail if he wanted to, but it was more fun to lie down and get his head under it, and watch the river slipping slowly away beneath him. And this was the only way in which Piglet and Roo could watch the river at all, because they were too small to reach the bottom rail. So they would lie down and watch it… and it slipped away very slowly, being in no hurry to get there.
One day, when Pooh was walking towards this bridge, he was trying to make up a piece of poetry about fir-cones, because there they were, lying about on each side of him, and he felt singy. So he picked a fir-cone up, and looked at it, and said to himself, “This is a very good fir-cone, and something ought to rhyme to it.” But he couldnt think of anything. And then this came into his head suddenly:
> Here is a mystry
> About a little fir-tree.
> Owl says its *his* tree,
> And Kanga says its *her* tree.
“Which doesnt make sense,” said Pooh, “because Kanga doesnt live in a tree.”
He had just come to the bridge; and not looking where he was going, he tripped over something, and the fir-cone jerked out of his paw into the river.
“Bother,” said Pooh, as it floated slowly under the bridge, and he went back to get another fir-cone which had a rhyme to it. But then he thought that he would just look at the river instead, because it was a peaceful sort of day, so he lay down and looked at it, and it slipped slowly away beneath him… and suddenly, there was his fir-cone slipping away too.
“Thats funny,” said Pooh. “I dropped it on the other side,” said Pooh, “and it came out on this side! I wonder if it would do it again?” And he went back for some more fir-cones.
It did. It kept on doing it. Then he dropped two in at once, and leant over the bridge to see which of them would come out first; and one of them did; but as they were both the same size, he didnt know if it was the one which he wanted to win, or the other one. So the next time he dropped one big one and one little one, and the big one came out first, which was what he had said it would do, and the little one came out last, which was what he had said it would do, so he had won twice… and when he went home for tea, he had won thirty-six and lost twenty-eight, which meant that he was—that he had—well, you take twenty-eight from thirty-six, and *thats* what he was. Instead of the other way round.
And that was the beginning of the game called Poohsticks, which Pooh invented, and which he and his friends used to play on the edge of the Forest. But they played with sticks instead of fir-cones, because they were easier to mark.
Now one day Pooh and Piglet and Rabbit and Roo were all playing Poohsticks together. They had dropped their sticks in when Rabbit said “Go!” and then they had hurried across to the other side of the bridge, and now they were all leaning over the edge, waiting to see whose stick would come out first. But it was a long time coming, because the river was very lazy that day, and hardly seemed to mind if it didnt ever get there at all.
“I can see mine!” cried Roo. “No, I cant, its something else. Can you see yours, Piglet? I thought I could see mine, but I couldnt. There it is! No, it isnt. Can you see yours, Pooh?”
“No,” said Pooh.
“I expect my sticks stuck,” said Roo. “Rabbit, my sticks stuck. Is your stick stuck, Piglet?”
“They always take longer than you think,” said Rabbit.
“How long do you *think* theyll take?” asked Roo.
“I can see yours, Piglet,” said Pooh suddenly.
“Mines a sort of greyish one,” said Piglet, not daring to lean too far over in case he fell in.
“Yes, thats what I can see. Its coming over on to my side.”
Rabbit leant over further than ever, looking for his, and Roo wriggled up and down, calling out “Come on, stick! Stick, stick, stick!” and Piglet got very excited because his was the only one which had been seen, and that meant that he was winning.
“Its coming!” said Pooh.
“Are you *sure* its mine?” squeaked Piglet excitedly.
“Yes, because its grey. A big grey one. Here it comes! A very—big—grey—Oh, no, it isnt, its Eeyore.”
And out floated Eeyore.
“Eeyore!” cried everybody.
Looking very calm, very dignified, with his legs in the air, came Eeyore from beneath the bridge.
“Its Eeyore!” cried Roo, terribly excited.
“Is that so?” said Eeyore, getting caught up by a little eddy, and turning slowly round three times. “I wondered.”
“I didnt know you were playing,” said Roo.
“Im not,” said Eeyore.
“Eeyore, what *are* you doing there?” said Rabbit.
“Ill give you three guesses, Rabbit. Digging holes in the ground? Wrong. Leaping from branch to branch of a young oak tree? Wrong. Waiting for somebody to help me out of the river? Right. Give Rabbit time, and hell always get the answer.”
“But, Eeyore,” said Pooh in distress, “what can we—I mean, how shall we—do you think if we—”
“Yes,” said Eeyore. “One of those would be just the thing. Thank you, Pooh.”
“Hes going *round* and *round*,” said Roo, much impressed.
“And why not?” said Eeyore coldly.
“I can swim too,” said Roo proudly.
“Not round and round,” said Eeyore. “Its much more difficult. I didnt want to come swimming at all today,” he went on, revolving slowly. “But if, when in, I decide to practise a slight circular movement from right to left—or perhaps I should say,” he added, as he got into another eddy, “from left to right, just as it happens to occur to me, it is nobodys business but my own.”
There was a moments silence while everybody thought.
“Ive got a sort of idea,” said Pooh at last, “but I dont suppose its a very good one.”
“I dont suppose it is either,” said Eeyore.
“Go on, Pooh,” said Rabbit. “Lets have it.”
“Well, if we all threw stones and things into the river on *one* side of Eeyore, the stones would make waves, and the waves would wash him to the other side.”
“Thats a very good idea,” said Rabbit, and Pooh looked happy again.
“Very,” said Eeyore. “When I want to be washed, Pooh, Ill let you know.”
“Supposing we hit him by mistake?” said Piglet anxiously.
“Or supposing you missed him by mistake,” said Eeyore. “Think of all the possibilities, Piglet, before you settle down to enjoy yourselves.”
But Pooh had got the biggest stone he could carry, and was leaning over the bridge, holding it in his paws.
“Im not throwing it, Im dropping it, Eeyore,” he explained. “And then I cant miss—I mean I cant hit you. *Could* you stop turning round for a moment, because it muddles me rather?”
“No,” said Eeyore. “I *like* turning round.”
Rabbit began to feel that it was time he took command.
“Now, Pooh,” he said, “when I say Now! you can drop it. Eeyore, when I say Now! Pooh will drop his stone.”
“Thank you very much, Rabbit, but I expect I shall know.”
“Are you ready, Pooh? Piglet, give Pooh a little more room. Get back a bit there, Roo. Are you ready?”
“No,” said Eeyore.
“*Now!*” said Rabbit.
Pooh dropped his stone. There was a loud splash, and Eeyore disappeared. …
It was an anxious moment for the watchers on the bridge. They looked and looked… and even the sight of Piglets stick coming out a little in front of Rabbits didnt cheer them up as much as you would have expected. And then, just as Pooh was beginning to think that he must have chosen the wrong stone or the wrong river or the wrong day for his Idea, something grey showed for a moment by the river bank… and it got slowly bigger and bigger… and at last it was Eeyore coming out.
With a shout they rushed off the bridge, and pushed and pulled at him; and soon he was standing among them again on dry land.
“Oh, Eeyore, you *are* wet!” said Piglet, feeling him.
Eeyore shook himself, and asked somebody to explain to Piglet what happened when you had been inside a river for quite a long time.
“Well done, Pooh,” said Rabbit kindly. “That was a good idea of ours.”
“What was?” asked Eeyore.
“Hooshing you to the bank like that.”
“*Hooshing* me?” said Eeyore in surprise. “Hooshing *me*? You didnt think I was *hooshed*, did you? I dived. Pooh dropped a large stone on me, and so as not to be struck heavily on the chest, I dived and swam to the bank.”
“You didnt really,” whispered Piglet to Pooh, so as to comfort him.
“I didnt *think* I did,” said Pooh anxiously.
“Its just Eeyore,” said Piglet. “*I* thought your Idea was a very good Idea.”
Pooh began to feel a little more comfortable, because when you are a Bear of Very Little Brain, and you Think of Things, you find sometimes that a Thing which seemed very Thingish inside you is quite different when it gets out into the open and has other people looking at it. And, anyhow, Eeyore *was* in the river, and now he *wasnt*, so he hadnt done any harm.
“How did you fall in, Eeyore?” asked Rabbit, as he dried him with Piglets handkerchief.
“I didnt,” said Eeyore.
“But how—”
“I was **bounced**,” said Eeyore.
“Oo,” said Roo excitedly, “did somebody push you?”
“Somebody **bounced** me. I was just thinking by the side of the river—thinking, if any of you know what that means, when I received a loud **bounce**.”
“Oh, Eeyore!” said everybody.
“Are you sure you didnt slip?” asked Rabbit wisely.
“Of course I slipped. If youre standing on the slippery bank of a river, and somebody **bounces** you loudly from behind, you slip. What did you think I did?”
“But who did it?” asked Roo.
Eeyore didnt answer.
“I expect it was Tigger,” said Piglet nervously.
“But, Eeyore,” said Pooh, “was it a Joke, or an Accident? I mean—”
“I didnt stop to ask, Pooh. Even at the very bottom of the river I didnt stop to say to myself, *Is* this a Hearty Joke, or is it the Merest Accident? I just floated to the surface, and said to myself, Its wet. If you know what I mean.”
“And where was Tigger?” asked Rabbit.
Before Eeyore could answer, there was a loud noise behind them, and through the hedge came Tigger himself.
“Hallo, everybody,” said Tigger cheerfully.
“Hallo, Tigger,” said Roo.
Rabbit became very important suddenly.
“Tigger,” he said solemnly, “what happened just now?”
“Just when?” said Tigger a little uncomfortably.
“When you bounced Eeyore into the river.”
“I didnt bounce him.”
“You bounced me,” said Eeyore gruffly.
“I didnt really. I had a cough, and I happened to be behind Eeyore, and I said *Grrrr—oppp—ptschschschz*.’ ”
“Why?” said Rabbit, helping Piglet up, and dusting him. “Its all right, Piglet.”
“It took me by surprise,” said Piglet nervously.
“Thats what I call bouncing,” said Eeyore. “Taking people by surprise. Very unpleasant habit. I dont mind Tigger being in the Forest,” he went on, “because its a large Forest, and theres plenty of room to bounce in it. But I dont see why he should come into *my* little corner of it, and bounce there. It isnt as if there was anything very wonderful about my little corner. Of course for people who like cold, wet, ugly bits it *is* something rather special, but otherwise its just a corner, and if anybody feels bouncy—”
“I didnt bounce, I coughed,” said Tigger crossly.
“Bouncy or coffy, its all the same at the bottom of the river.”
“Well,” said Rabbit, “all I can say is—well, heres Christopher Robin, so *he* can say it.”
Christopher Robin came down from the Forest to the bridge, feeling all sunny and careless, and just as if twice nineteen didnt matter a bit, as it didnt on such a happy afternoon, and he thought that if he stood on the bottom rail of the bridge, and leant over, and watched the river slipping slowly away beneath him, then he would suddenly know everything that there was to be known, and he would be able to tell Pooh, who wasnt quite sure about some of it. But when he got to the bridge and saw all the animals there, then he knew that it wasnt that kind of afternoon, but the other kind, when you wanted to *do* something.
“Its like this, Christopher Robin,” began Rabbit. “Tigger—”
“No, I didnt,” said Tigger.
“Well, anyhow, there I was,” said Eeyore.
“But I dont think he meant to,” said Pooh.
“He just *is* bouncy,” said Piglet, “and he cant help it.”
“Try bouncing *me*, Tigger,” said Roo eagerly. “Eeyore, Tiggers going to try *me*. Piglet, do you think—”
“Yes, yes,” said Rabbit, “we dont all want to speak at once. The point is, what does Christopher Robin think about it?”
“All I did was I coughed,” said Tigger.
“He bounced,” said Eeyore.
“Well, I sort of boffed,” said Tigger.
“Hush!” said Rabbit, holding up his paw. “What does Christopher Robin think about it all? Thats the point.”
“Well,” said Christopher Robin, not quite sure what it was all about, “*I* think—”
“Yes?” said everybody.
“*I* think we all ought to play Poohsticks.”
So they did. And Eeyore, who had never played it before, won more times than anybody else; and Roo fell in twice, the first time by accident and the second time on purpose, because he suddenly saw Kanga coming from the Forest, and he knew hed have to go to bed anyhow. So then Rabbit said hed go with them; and Tigger and Eeyore went off together, because Eeyore wanted to tell Tigger How to Win at Poohsticks, which you do by letting your stick drop in a twitchy sort of way, if you understand what I mean, Tigger; and Christopher Robin and Pooh and Piglet were left on the bridge by themselves.
For a long time they looked at the river beneath them, saying nothing, and the river said nothing too, for it felt very quiet and peaceful on this summer afternoon.
“Tigger is all right *really*,” said Piglet lazily.
“Of course he is,” said Christopher Robin.
“Everybody is *really*,” said Pooh. “Thats what *I* think,” said Pooh. “But I dont suppose Im right,” he said.
“Of course you are,” said Christopher Robin.

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# VII
One day Rabbit and Piglet were sitting outside Poohs front door listening to Rabbit, and Pooh was sitting with them. It was a drowsy summer afternoon, and the Forest was full of gentle sounds, which all seemed to be saying to Pooh, “Dont listen to Rabbit, listen to me.” So he got into a comfortable position for not listening to Rabbit, and from time to time he opened his eyes to say “Ah!” and then closed them again to say “True,” and from time to time Rabbit said, “You see what I mean, Piglet” very earnestly, and Piglet nodded earnestly to show that he did.
“In fact,” said Rabbit, coming to the end of it at last, “Tiggers getting so Bouncy nowadays that its time we taught him a lesson. Dont you think so, Piglet?”
Piglet said that Tigger *was* very Bouncy, and that if they could think of a way of unbouncing him, it would be a Very Good Idea.
“Just what I feel,” said Rabbit. “What do *you* say, Pooh?”
Pooh opened his eyes with a jerk and said, “Extremely.”
“Extremely what?” asked Rabbit.
“What you were saying,” said Pooh. “Undoubtably.”
Piglet gave Pooh a stiffening sort of nudge, and Pooh, who felt more and more that he was somewhere else, got up slowly and began to look for himself.
“But how shall we do it?” asked Piglet. “What sort of a lesson, Rabbit?”
“Thats the point,” said Rabbit.
The word “lesson” came back to Pooh as one he had heard before somewhere.
“Theres a thing called Twy-stymes,” he said. “Christopher Robin tried to teach it to me once, but it didnt.”
“What didnt?” said Rabbit.
“Didnt what?” said Piglet.
Pooh shook his head.
“I dont know,” he said. “It just didnt. What are we talking about?”
“Pooh,” said Piglet reproachfully, “havent you been listening to what Rabbit was saying?”
“I listened, but I had a small piece of fluff in my ear. Could you say it again, please, Rabbit?”
Rabbit never minded saying things again, so he asked where he should begin from; and when Pooh had said from the moment when the fluff got in his ear, and Rabbit had asked when that was, and Pooh had said he didnt know because he hadnt heard properly, Piglet settled it all by saying that what they were trying to do was, they were just trying to think of a way to get the bounces out of Tigger, because however much you liked him, you couldnt deny it, he *did* bounce.
“Oh, I see,” said Pooh.
“Theres too much of him,” said Rabbit, “thats what it comes to.”
Pooh tried to think, and all he could think of was something which didnt help at all. So he hummed it very quietly to himself.
> If Rabbit
> Was bigger
> And fatter
> And stronger,
> Or bigger
> Than Tigger,
> If Tigger was smaller,
> Then Tiggers bad habit
> Of bouncing at Rabbit
> Would matter
> No longer,
> If Rabbit
> Was taller.
“What was Pooh saying?” asked Rabbit. “Any good?”
“No,” said Pooh sadly. “No good.”
“Well, Ive got an idea,” said Rabbit, “and here it is. We take Tigger for a long explore, somewhere where hes never been, and we lose him there, and next morning we find him again, and—mark my words—hell be a different Tigger altogether.”
“Why?” said Pooh.
“Because hell be a Humble Tigger. Because hell be a Sad Tigger, a Melancholy Tigger, a Small and Sorry Tigger, an Oh-Rabbit-I-*am*-glad-to-see-you Tigger. Thats why.”
“Will he be glad to see me and Piglet, too?”
“Of course.”
“Thats good,” said Pooh.
“I should hate him to go *on* being Sad,” said Piglet doubtfully.
“Tiggers never go on being Sad,” explained Rabbit. “They get over it with Astonishing Rapidity. I asked Owl, just to make sure, and he said that thats what they always get over it with. But if we can make Tigger feel Small and Sad just for five minutes, we shall have done a good deed.”
“Would Christopher Robin think so?” asked Piglet.
“Yes,” said Rabbit. “Hed say Youve done a good deed, Piglet. I would have done it myself, only I happened to be doing something else. Thank you, Piglet. And Pooh, of course.”
Piglet felt very glad about this, and he saw at once that what they were going to do to Tigger was a good thing to do, and as Pooh and Rabbit were doing it with him, it was a thing which even a Very Small Animal could wake up in the morning and be comfortable about doing. So the only question was, where should they lose Tigger?
“Well take him to the North Pole,” said Rabbit, “because it was a very long explore finding it, so it will be a very long explore for Tigger unfinding it again.”
It was now Poohs turn to feel very glad, because it was he who had first found the North Pole, and when they got there, Tigger would see a notice which said, “Discovered by Pooh, Pooh found it,” and then Tigger would know, which perhaps he didnt know, the sort of Bear Pooh was. *That* sort of Bear.
So it was arranged that they should start next morning, and that Rabbit, who lived near Kanga and Roo and Tigger, should now go home and ask Tigger what he was doing tomorrow, because if he wasnt doing anything, what about coming for an explore and getting Pooh and Piglet to come too? And if Tigger said “Yes” that would be all right, and if he said “No”
“He wont,” said Rabbit. “Leave it to me.” And he went off busily.
The next day was quite a different day. Instead of being hot and sunny, it was cold and misty. Pooh didnt mind for himself, but when he thought of all the honey the bees wouldnt be making, a cold and misty day always made him feel sorry for them. He said so to Piglet when Piglet came to fetch him, and Piglet said that he wasnt thinking of that so much, but of how cold and miserable it would be being lost all day and night on the top of the Forest. But when he and Pooh had got to Rabbits house, Rabbit said it was just the day for them, because Tigger always bounced on ahead of everybody, and as soon as he got out of sight, they would hurry away in the other direction, and he would never see them again.
“Not never?” said Piglet.
“Well, not until we find him again, Piglet. Tomorrow, or whenever it is. Come on. Hes waiting for us.”
When they got to Kangas house, they found that Roo was waiting too, being a great friend of Tiggers, which made it Awkward; but Rabbit whispered “Leave this to me” behind his paw to Pooh, and went up to Kanga.
“I dont think Roo had better come,” he said. “Not today.”
“Why not?” said Roo, who wasnt supposed to be listening.
“Nasty cold day,” said Rabbit, shaking his head. “And you were coughing this morning.”
“How do you know?” asked Roo indignantly.
“Oh, Roo, you never told me,” said Kanga reproachfully.
“It was a Biscuit Cough,” said Roo, “not one you tell about.”
“I think not today, dear. Another day.”
“Tomorrow?” said Roo hopefully.
“Well see,” said Kanga.
“Youre always seeing, and nothing ever happens,” said Roo sadly.
“Nobody could see on a day like this, Roo,” said Rabbit. “I dont expect we shall get very far, and then this afternoon well all—well all—well—ah, Tigger, there you are. Come on. Goodbye, Roo! This afternoon well—come on, Pooh! All ready? Thats right. Come on.”
So they went. At first Pooh and Rabbit and Piglet walked together, and Tigger ran round them in circles, and then, when the path got narrower, Rabbit, Piglet and Pooh walked one after another, and Tigger ran round them in oblongs, and by-and-by, when the gorse got very prickly on each side of the path, Tigger ran up and down in front of them, and sometimes he bounced into Rabbit and sometimes he didnt. And as they got higher, the mist got thicker, so that Tigger kept disappearing, and then when you thought he wasnt there, there he was again, saying “I say, come on,” and before you could say anything, there he wasnt.
Rabbit turned round and nudged Piglet.
“The next time,” he said. “Tell Pooh.”
“The next time,” said Piglet to Pooh.
“The next what?” said Pooh to Piglet.
Tigger appeared suddenly, bounced into Rabbit, and disappeared again. “Now!” said Rabbit. He jumped into a hollow by the side of the path, and Pooh and Piglet jumped after him. They crouched in the bracken, listening. The Forest was very silent when you stopped and listened to it. They could see nothing and hear nothing.
“Hsh!” said Rabbit.
“I am,” said Pooh.
There was a pattering noise… then silence again.
“Hallo!” said Tigger, and he sounded so close suddenly that Piglet would have jumped if Pooh hadnt accidentally been sitting on most of him.
“Where are you?” called Tigger.
Rabbit nudged Pooh, and Pooh looked about for Piglet to nudge, but couldnt find him, and Piglet went on breathing wet bracken as quietly as he could, and felt very brave and excited.
“Thats funny,” said Tigger.
There was a moments silence, and then they heard him pattering off again. For a little longer they waited, until the Forest had become so still that it almost frightened them, and then Rabbit got up and stretched himself.
“Well?” he whispered proudly. “There we are! Just as I said.”
“Ive been thinking,” said Pooh, “and I think—”
“No,” said Rabbit. “Dont. Run. Come on.” And they all hurried off, Rabbit leading the way.
“Now,” said Rabbit, after they had gone a little way, “we can talk. What were you going to say, Pooh?”
“Nothing much. Why are we going along here?”
“Because its the way home.”
“Oh!” said Pooh.
“I *think* its more to the right,” said Piglet nervously. “What do *you* think, Pooh?”
Pooh looked at his two paws. He knew that one of them was the right, and he knew that when you had decided which one of them was the right, then the other one was the left, but he never could remember how to begin.
“Well,” he said slowly
“Come on,” said Rabbit. “I know its this way.”
They went on. Ten minutes later they stopped again.
“Its very silly,” said Rabbit, “but just for the moment I—Ah, of course. Come on. …”
“Here we are,” said Rabbit ten minutes later. “No, were not. …”
“Now,” said Rabbit ten minutes later, “I think we ought to be getting—or are we a little bit more to the right than I thought? …”
“Its a funny thing,” said Rabbit ten minutes later, “how everything looks the same in a mist. Have you noticed it, Pooh?”
Pooh said that he had.
“Lucky we know the Forest so well, or we might get lost,” said Rabbit half an hour later, and he gave the careless laugh which you give when you know the Forest so well that you cant get lost.
Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind.
“Pooh!” he whispered.
“Yes, Piglet?”
“Nothing,” said Piglet, taking Poohs paw. “I just wanted to be sure of you.”
When Tigger had finished waiting for the others to catch him up, and they hadnt, and when he had got tired of having nobody to say, “I say, come on” to, he thought he would go home. So he trotted back; and the first thing Kanga said when she saw him was “Theres a good Tigger. Youre just in time for your Strengthening Medicine,” and she poured it out for him. Roo said proudly, “Ive *had* mine,” and Tigger swallowed his and said, “So have I,” and then he and Roo pushed each other about in a friendly way, and Tigger accidentally knocked over one or two chairs by accident, and Roo accidentally knocked over one on purpose, and Kanga said, “Now then, run along.”
“Where shall we run along to?” asked Roo.
“You can go and collect some fir-cones for me,” said Kanga, giving them a basket.
So they went to the Six Pine Trees, and threw fir-cones at each other until they had forgotten what they came for, and they left the basket under the trees and went back to dinner. And it was just as they were finishing dinner that Christopher Robin put his head in at the door.
“Wheres Pooh?” he asked.
“Tigger dear, wheres Pooh?” said Kanga. Tigger explained what had happened at the same time that Roo was explaining about his Biscuit Cough and Kanga was telling them not both to talk at once, so it was some time before Christopher Robin guessed that Pooh and Piglet and Rabbit were all lost in the mist on the top of the Forest.
“Its a funny thing about Tiggers,” whispered Tigger to Roo, “how Tiggers *never* get lost.”
“Why dont they, Tigger?”
“They just dont,” explained Tigger. “Thats how it is.”
“Well,” said Christopher Robin, “we shall have to go and find them, thats all. Come on, Tigger.”
“I shall have to go and find them,” explained Tigger to Roo.
“May I find them too?” asked Roo eagerly.
“I think not today, dear,” said Kanga. “Another day.”
“Well, if theyre lost tomorrow, may I find them?”
“Well see,” said Kanga, and Roo, who knew what *that* meant, went into a corner, and practised jumping out at himself, partly because he wanted to practise this, and partly because he didnt want Christopher Robin and Tigger to think that he minded when they went off without him.
* * *
“The fact is,” said Rabbit, “weve missed our way somehow.”
They were having a rest in a small sandpit on the top of the Forest. Pooh was getting rather tired of that sandpit, and suspected it of following them about, because whichever direction they started in, they always ended up at it, and each time, as it came through the mist at them, Rabbit said triumphantly, “Now I know where we are!” and Pooh said sadly, “So do I,” and Piglet said nothing. He had tried to think of something to say, but the only thing he could think of was, “Help, help!” and it seemed silly to say that, when he had Pooh and Rabbit with him.
“Well,” said Rabbit, after a long silence in which nobody thanked him for the nice walk they were having, “wed better get on, I suppose. Which way shall we try?”
“How would it be,” said Pooh slowly, “if, as soon as were out of sight of this Pit, we try to find it again?”
“Whats the good of that?” said Rabbit.
“Well,” said Pooh, “we keep looking for Home and not finding it, so I thought that if we looked for this Pit, wed be sure not to find it, which would be a Good Thing, because then we might find something that we *werent* looking for, which might be just what we *were* looking for, really.”
“I dont see much sense in that,” said Rabbit.
“No,” said Pooh humbly, “there isnt. But there was *going* to be when I began it. Its just that something happened to it on the way.”
“If I walked away from this Pit, and then walked back to it, of *course* I should find it.”
“Well, I thought perhaps you wouldnt,” said Pooh. “I just thought.”
“Try,” said Piglet suddenly. “Well wait here for you.”
Rabbit gave a laugh to show how silly Piglet was, and walked into the mist. After he had gone a hundred yards, he turned and walked back again… and after Pooh and Piglet had waited twenty minutes for him, Pooh got up.
“I just thought,” said Pooh. “Now then, Piglet, lets go home.”
“But, Pooh,” cried Piglet, all excited, “do you know the way?”
“No,” said Pooh. “But there are twelve pots of honey in my cupboard, and theyve been calling to me for hours. I couldnt hear them properly before, because Rabbit *would* talk, but if nobody says anything except those twelve pots, I *think*, Piglet, I shall know where theyre calling from. Come on.”
They walked off together; and for a long time Piglet said nothing, so as not to interrupt the pots; and then suddenly he made a squeaky noise… and an oo-noise… because now he began to know where he was; but he still didnt dare to say so out loud, in case he wasnt. And just when he was getting so sure of himself that it didnt matter whether the pots went on calling or not, there was a shout from in front of them, and out of the mist came Christopher Robin.
“Oh, there you are,” said Christopher Robin carelessly, trying to pretend that he hadnt been Anxious.
“Here we are,” said Pooh.
“Wheres Rabbit?”
“I dont know,” said Pooh.
“Oh—well, I expect Tigger will find him. Hes sort of looking for you all.”
“Well,” said Pooh, “Ive got to go home for something, and so has Piglet, because we havent had it yet, and—”
“Ill come and watch you,” said Christopher Robin.
So he went home with Pooh, and watched him for quite a long time… and all the time he was watching, Tigger was tearing round the Forest making loud yapping noises for Rabbit. And at last a very Small and Sorry Rabbit heard him. And the Small and Sorry Rabbit rushed through the mist at the noise, and it suddenly turned into Tigger; a Friendly Tigger, a Grand Tigger, a Large and Helpful Tigger, a Tigger who bounced, if he bounced at all, in just the beautiful way a Tigger ought to bounce.
“Oh, Tigger, I *am* glad to see you,” cried Rabbit.

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# VIII
Halfway between Poohs house and Piglets house was a Thoughtful Spot where they met sometimes when they had decided to go and see each other, and as it was warm and out of the wind they would sit down there for a little and wonder what they would do now that they *had* seen each other. One day when they had decided not to do anything, Pooh made up a verse about it, so that everybody should know what the place was for.
> This warm and sunny Spot
> Belongs to Pooh.
> And here he wonders what
> Hes going to do.
> Oh, bother, I forgot
> Its Piglets too.
Now one autumn morning when the wind had blown all the leaves off the trees in the night, and was trying to blow the branches off, Pooh and Piglet were sitting in the Thoughtful Spot and wondering.
“What *I* think,” said Pooh, “is I think well go to Pooh Corner and see Eeyore, because perhaps his house has been blown down, and perhaps hed like us to build it again.”
“What *I* think,” said Piglet, “is I think well go and see Christopher Robin, only he wont be there, so we cant.”
“Lets go and see *everybody*,” said Pooh. “Because when youve been walking in the wind for miles, and you suddenly go into somebodys house, and he says, Hallo, Pooh, youre just in time for a little smackerel of something, and you are, then its what I call a Friendly Day.”
Piglet thought that they ought to have a Reason for going to see everybody, like Looking for Small or Organizing an Expotition, if Pooh could think of something.
Pooh could.
“Well go because its Thursday,” he said, “and well go to wish everybody a Very Happy Thursday. Come on, Piglet.”
They got up; and when Piglet had sat down again, because he didnt know the wind was so strong, and had been helped up by Pooh, they started off. They went to Poohs house first, and luckily Pooh was at home just as they got there, so he asked them in, and they had some, and then they went on to Kangas house, holding on to each other, and shouting “Isnt it?” and “What?” and “I cant hear.” By the time they got to Kangas house they were so buffeted that they stayed to lunch. Just at first it seemed rather cold outside afterwards, so they pushed on to Rabbits as quickly as they could.
“Weve come to wish you a Very Happy Thursday,” said Pooh, when he had gone in and out once or twice just to make sure that he *could* get out again.
“Why, whats going to happen on Thursday?” asked Rabbit, and when Pooh had explained, and Rabbit, whose life was made up of Important Things, said, “Oh, I thought youd really come about something,” they sat down for a little… and by-and-by Pooh and Piglet went on again. The wind was behind them now, so they didnt have to shout.
“Rabbits clever,” said Pooh thoughtfully.
“Yes,” said Piglet, “Rabbits clever.”
“And he has Brain.”
“Yes,” said Piglet, “Rabbit has Brain.”
There was a long silence.
“I suppose,” said Pooh, “that thats why he never understands anything.”
Christopher Robin was at home by this time, because it was the afternoon, and he was so glad to see them that they stayed there until very nearly teatime, and then they had a Very Nearly tea, which is one you forget about afterwards, and hurried on to Pooh Corner, so as to see Eeyore before it was too late to have a Proper Tea with Owl.
“Hallo, Eeyore,” they called out cheerfully.
“Ah!” said Eeyore. “Lost your way?”
“We just came to see you,” said Piglet. “And to see how your house was. Look, Pooh, its still standing!”
“I know,” said Eeyore. “Very odd. Somebody ought to have come down and pushed it over.”
“We wondered whether the wind would blow it down,” said Pooh.
“Ah, thats why nobodys bothered, I suppose. I thought perhaps theyd forgotten.”
“Well, were very glad to see you, Eeyore, and now were going on to see Owl.”
“Thats right. Youll like Owl. He flew past a day or two ago and noticed me. He didnt actually say anything, mind you, but he knew it was me. Very friendly of him, I thought. Encouraging.”
Pooh and Piglet shuffled about a little and said, “Well, goodbye, Eeyore” as lingeringly as they could, but they had a long way to go, and wanted to be getting on.
“Goodbye,” said Eeyore. “Mind you dont get blown away, little Piglet. Youd be missed. People would say Wheres little Piglet been blown to?—really wanting to know. Well, goodbye. And thank you for happening to pass me.”
“Goodbye,” said Pooh and Piglet for the last time, and they pushed on to Owls house.
The wind was against them now, and Piglets ears streamed behind him like banners as he fought his way along, and it seemed hours before he got them into the shelter of the Hundred Acre Wood and they stood up straight again, to listen, a little nervously, to the roaring of the gale among the treetops.
“Supposing a tree fell down, Pooh, when we were underneath it?”
“Supposing it didnt,” said Pooh after careful thought.
Piglet was comforted by this, and in a little while they were knocking and ringing very cheerfully at Owls door.
“Hallo, Owl,” said Pooh. “I hope were not too late for—I mean, how are you, Owl? Piglet and I just came to see how you were, because its Thursday.”
“Sit down, Pooh, sit down, Piglet,” said Owl kindly. “Make yourselves comfortable.”
They thanked him, and made themselves as comfortable as they could.
“Because, you see, Owl,” said Pooh, “weve been hurrying, so as to be in time for—so as to see you before we went away again.”
Owl nodded solemnly.
“Correct me if I am wrong,” he said, “but am I right in supposing that it is a very Blusterous day outside?”
“Very,” said Piglet, who was quietly thawing his ears, and wishing that he was safely back in his own house.
“I thought so,” said Owl. “It was on just such a blusterous day as this that my Uncle Robert, a portrait of whom you see upon the wall on your right, Piglet, while returning in the late forenoon from a—Whats that?”
There was a loud cracking noise.
“Look out!” cried Pooh. “Mind the clock! Out of the way, Piglet! Piglet, Im falling on you!”
“Help!” cried Piglet.
Poohs side of the room was slowly tilting upwards and his chair began sliding down on Piglets. The clock slithered gently along the mantelpiece, collecting vases on the way, until they all crashed together on to what had once been the floor, but was now trying to see what it looked like as a wall. Uncle Robert, who was going to be the new hearthrug, and was bringing the rest of his wall with him as carpet, met Piglets chair just as Piglet was expecting to leave it, and for a little while it became very difficult to remember which was really the north. Then there was another loud crack… Owls room collected itself feverishly… and there was silence.
* * *
In a corner of the room, the tablecloth began to wriggle.
Then it wrapped itself into a ball and rolled across the room.
Then it jumped up and down once or twice, and put out two ears. It rolled across the room again, and unwound itself.
“Pooh,” said Piglet nervously.
“Yes?” said one of the chairs.
“Where are we?”
“Im not quite sure,” said the chair.
“Are we—are we in Owls House?”
“I think so, because we were just going to have tea, and we hadnt had it.”
“Oh!” said Piglet. “Well, did Owl *always* have a letterbox in his ceiling?”
“Has he?”
“Yes, look.”
“I cant,” said Pooh. “Im face downwards under something, and that, Piglet, is a very bad position for looking at ceilings.”
“Well, he has, Pooh.”
“Perhaps hes changed it,” said Pooh. “Just for a change.”
There was a disturbance behind the table in the other corner of the room, and Owl was with them again.
“Ah, Piglet,” said Owl, looking very much annoyed; “wheres Pooh?”
“Im not quite sure,” said Pooh.
Owl turned at his voice, and frowned at as much of Pooh as he could see.
“Pooh,” said Owl severely, “did *you* do that?”
“No,” said Pooh humbly. “I dont *think* so.”
“Then who did?”
“I think it was the wind,” said Piglet. “I think your house has blown down.”
“Oh, is that it? I thought it was Pooh.”
“No,” said Pooh.
“If it was the wind,” said Owl, considering the matter, “then it wasnt Poohs fault. No blame can be attached to him.” With these kind words he flew up to look at his new ceiling.
“Piglet!” called Pooh in a loud whisper.
Piglet leant down to him.
“Yes, Pooh?”
“*What* did he say was attached to me?”
“He said he didnt blame you.”
“Oh! I thought he meant—Oh, I see.”
“Owl,” said Piglet, “come down and help Pooh.”
Owl, who was admiring his letterbox, flew down again. Together they pushed and pulled at the armchair, and in a little while Pooh came out from underneath, and was able to look round him again.
“Well!” said Owl. “This is a nice state of things!”
“What are we going to do, Pooh? Can you think of anything?” asked Piglet.
“Well, I *had* just thought of something,” said Pooh. “It was just a little thing I thought of.” And he began to sing:
> I lay on my chest
> And I thought it best
> To pretend I was having an evening rest;
> I lay on my tum
> And I tried to hum
> But nothing particular seemed to come.
> My face was flat
> On the floor, and that
> Is all very well for an acrobat;
> But it doesnt seem fair
> To a Friendly Bear
> To stiffen him out with a basket-chair.
> And a sort of sqoze
> Which grows and grows
> Is not too nice for his poor old nose,
> And a sort of squch
> Is much too much
> For his neck and his mouth and his ears and such.
“That was all,” said Pooh.
Owl coughed in an unadmiring sort of way, and said that, if Pooh was sure that *was* all, they could now give their minds to the Problem of Escape.
“Because,” said Owl, “we cant go out by what used to be the front door. Somethings fallen on it.”
“But how else *can* you go out?” asked Piglet anxiously.
“That is the Problem, Piglet, to which I am asking Pooh to give his mind.”
Pooh sat on the floor which had once been a wall, and gazed up at the ceiling which had once been another wall, with a front door in it which had once been a front door, and tried to give his mind to it.
“Could you fly up to the letterbox with Piglet on your back?” he asked.
“No,” said Piglet quickly. “He couldnt.”
Owl explained about the Necessary Dorsal Muscles. He had explained this to Pooh and Christopher Robin once before, and had been waiting ever since for a chance to do it again, because it is a thing which you can easily explain twice before anybody knows what you are talking about.
“Because you see, Owl, if we could get Piglet into the letterbox, he might squeeze through the place where the letters come, and climb down the tree and run for help.”
Piglet said hurriedly that he had been getting bigger lately, and couldnt *possibly*, much as he would like to, and Owl said that he had had his letterbox made bigger lately in case he got bigger letters, so perhaps Piglet *might*, and Piglet said, “But you said the necessary you-know-whats *wouldnt*,” and Owl said, “No, they *wont*, so its no good thinking about it,” and Piglet said “Then wed better think of something else,” and began to at once.
But Poohs mind had gone back to the day when he had saved Piglet from the flood, and everybody had admired him so much; and as that didnt often happen he thought he would like it to happen again. And suddenly, just as it had come before, an idea came to him.
“Owl,” said Pooh, “I have thought of something.”
“Astute and Helpful Bear,” said Owl.
Pooh looked proud at being called a stout and helpful bear, and said modestly that he just happened to think of it. You tied a piece of string to Piglet, and you flew up to the letterbox with the other end in your beak, and you pushed it through the wire and brought it down to the floor, and you and Pooh pulled hard at this end, and Piglet went slowly up at the other end. And there you were.
“And there Piglet is,” said Owl. “If the string doesnt break.”
“Supposing it does?” asked Piglet, wanting to know.
“Then we try another piece of string.”
This was not very comforting to Piglet, because however many pieces of string they tried pulling up with, it would always be the same him coming down; but still, it did seem the only thing to do. So with one last look back in his mind at all the happy hours he had spent in the Forest *not* being pulled up to the ceiling by a piece of string, Piglet nodded bravely at Pooh and said that it was a Very Clever pup-pup-pup Clever pup-pup Plan.
“It wont break,” whispered Pooh comfortingly, “because youre a Small Animal, and Ill stand underneath, and if you save us all, it will be a Very Grand Thing to talk about afterwards, and perhaps Ill make up a Song, and people will say It was so grand what Piglet did that a Respectful Pooh Song was made about it.’ ”
Piglet felt much better after this, and when everything was ready, and he found himself slowly going up to the ceiling, he was so proud that he would have called out “Look at *me*!” if he hadnt been afraid that Pooh and Owl would let go of their end of the string and look at him.
“Up we go!” said Pooh cheerfully.
“The ascent is proceeding as expected,” said Owl helpfully. Soon it was over. Piglet opened the letterbox and climbed in. Then, having untied himself, he began to squeeze into the slit, through which in the old days when front doors *were* front doors, many an unexpected letter that **Wol** had written to himself, had come slipping.
He squeezed and he squoze, and then with one last sqooze he was out. Happy and excited he turned round to squeak a last message to the prisoners.
“Its all right,” he called through the letterbox. “Your tree is blown right over, Owl, and theres a branch across the door, but Christopher Robin and I can move it, and well bring a rope for Pooh, and Ill go and tell him now, and I can climb down quite easily, I mean its dangerous but I can do it all right, and Christopher Robin and I will be back in about half-an-hour. Goodbye, Pooh!” And without waiting to hear Poohs answering “Goodbye, and thank you, Piglet,” he was off.
“Half-an-hour,” said Owl, settling himself comfortably. “That will just give me time to finish that story I was telling you about my Uncle Robert—a portrait of whom you see underneath you. Now let me see, where was I? Oh, yes. It was on just such a blusterous day as this that my Uncle Robert—”
Pooh closed his eyes.

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# IX
Pooh had wandered into the Hundred Acre Wood, and was standing in front of what had once been Owls House. It didnt look at all like a house now; it looked like a tree which had been blown down; and as soon as a house looks like that, it is time you tried to find another one. Pooh had had a Mysterious Missage underneath his front door that morning, saying, “I am scerching for a new house for Owl so had you Rabbit,” and while he was wondering what it meant, Rabbit had come in and read it for him.
“Im leaving one for all the others,” said Rabbit, “and telling them what it means, and theyll all search too. Im in a hurry, goodbye.” And he had run off.
Pooh followed slowly. He had something better to do than to find a new house for Owl; he had to make up a Pooh song about the old one. Because he had promised Piglet days and days ago that he would, and whenever he and Piglet had met since, Piglet didnt actually say anything, but you knew at once why he didnt; and if anybody mentioned Hums or Trees or String or Storms-in-the-Night, Piglets nose went all pink at the tip and he talked about something quite different in a hurried sort of way.
“But it isnt Easy,” said Pooh to himself, as he looked at what had once been Owls House. “Because Poetry and Hums arent things which you get, theyre things which get *you*. And all you can do is to go where they can find you.”
He waited hopefully. …
“Well,” said Pooh after a long wait, “I shall begin Here lies a tree because it does, and then Ill see what happens.”
This is what happened.
> Here lies a tree which Owl (a bird)
> Was fond of when it stood on end,
> And Owl was talking to a friend
> Called Me (in case you hadnt heard)
> When something Oo occurred.
>
> For lo! the wind was blusterous
> And flattened out his favourite tree;
> And things looked bad for him and we
> Looked bad, I mean, for he and us
> Ive never known them wuss.
>
> Then Piglet (**Piglet**) thought a thing:
> “Courage!” he said. “Theres always hope.
> I want a thinnish piece of rope.
> Or, if there isnt any bring
> A thickish piece of string.”
>
> So to the letterbox he rose,
> While Pooh and Owl said “Oh!” and “Hum!”
> And where the letters always come
> (Called “**Letters Only**”) Piglet sqoze
> His head and then his toes.
>
> O gallant Piglet (**Piglet**)! Ho!
> Did Piglet tremble? Did he blinch?
> No, No, he struggled inch by inch
> Through **letters only**, as I know
> Because I saw him go.
>
> He ran and ran, and then he stood
> And shouted, “Help for Owl, a bird
> And Pooh, a bear!” until he heard
> The others coming through the wood
> As quickly as they could.
>
> “Help-help and Rescue!” Piglet cried
> And showed the others where to go.
> Sing ho! for Piglet (**Piglet**) ho
> And soon the door was opened wide
> And we were both outside!
>
> Sing ho! for Piglet, ho!
> Ho!
“So there it is,” said Pooh, when he had sung this to himself three times. “Its come different from what I thought it would, but its come. Now I must go and sing it to Piglet.”
> I am scerching for a new house for Owl so had you Rabbit.
“Whats all this?” said Eeyore.
Rabbit explained.
“Whats the matter with his old house?” asked Eeyore.
Rabbit explained.
“Nobody tells me,” said Eeyore. “Nobody keeps me Informed. I make it seventeen days come Friday since anybody spoke to me.”
“It certainly isnt seventeen days—”
“Come Friday,” explained Eeyore.
“And todays Saturday,” said Rabbit. “So that would make it eleven days. And I was here myself a week ago.”
“Not conversing,” said Eeyore. “Not first one and then the other. You said Hallo and Flashed Past. I saw your tail in the distance as I was meditating my reply. I *had* thought of saying What?—but, of course, it was then too late.”
“Well, I was in a hurry.”
“No Give and Take,” Eeyore went on. “No Exchange of Thought: *Hallo—What*—I mean, it gets you nowhere, particularly if the other persons tail is only just in sight for the second half of the conversation.”
“Its your fault, Eeyore. Youve never been to see any of us. You just stay here in this one corner of the Forest waiting for the others to come to *you*. Why dont you go to *them* sometimes?”
Eeyore was silent for a little while, thinking.
“There may be something in what you say, Rabbit,” he said at last. “I must move about more. I must come and go.”
“Thats right, Eeyore. Drop in on any of us at any time, when you feel like it.”
“Thank-you, Rabbit. And if anybody says in a Loud Voice Bother, its Eeyore, I can drop out again.”
Rabbit stood on one leg for a moment.
“Well,” he said, “I must be going.”
“Goodbye,” said Eeyore.
“What? Oh, goodbye. And if you do come across a house for Owl, you must let us know.”
“I will give my mind to it,” said Eeyore.
Rabbit went.
* * *
Pooh had found Piglet, and they were walking back to the Hundred Acre Wood together.
“Piglet,” said Pooh a little shyly, after they had walked for some time without saying anything.
“Yes, Pooh?”
“Do you remember when I said that a Respectful Pooh Song might be written about You Know What?”
“Did you, Pooh?” said Piglet, getting a little pink round the nose. “Oh, yes, I believe you did.”
“Its been written, Piglet.”
The pink went slowly up Piglets nose to his ears, and settled there.
“Has it, Pooh?” he asked huskily. “About—about—That Time When?—Do you mean really written?”
“Yes, Piglet.”
The tips of Piglets ears glowed suddenly, and he tried to say something; but even after he had husked once or twice, nothing came out. So Pooh went on.
“There are seven verses in it.”
“Seven?” said Piglet as carelessly as he could. “You dont often get *seven* verses in a Hum, do you, Pooh?”
“Never,” said Pooh, “I dont suppose its *ever* been heard of before.”
“Do the Others know yet?” asked Piglet, stopping for a moment to pick up a stick and throw it away.
“No,” said Pooh. “And I wondered which you would like best. For me to hum it now, or to wait till we find the others, and then hum it to all of you.”
Piglet thought for a little.
“I think what Id like best, Pooh, is Id like you to hum it to me *now*—and—and *then* to hum it to all of us. Because then Everybody would hear it, but I could say Oh, yes, Poohs told me, and pretend not to be listening.”
So Pooh hummed it to him, all the seven verses and Piglet said nothing, but just stood and glowed. Never before had anyone sung ho for Piglet (**Piglet**) ho all by himself. When it was over, he wanted to ask for one of the verses over again, but didnt quite like to. It was the verse beginning “O gallant Piglet,” and it seemed to him a very thoughtful way of beginning a piece of poetry.
“Did I really do all that?” he said at last.
“Well,” said Pooh, “in poetry—in a piece of poetry—well, you *did* it, Piglet, because the poetry says you did. And thats how people know.”
“Oh!” said Piglet. “Because I—I thought I did blinch a little. Just at first. And it says, Did he blinch no no. Thats why.”
“You only blinched inside,” said Pooh, “and thats the bravest way for a Very Small Animal not to blinch that there is.”
Piglet sighed with happiness, and began to think about himself. He was **brave**. …
When they got to Owls old house, they found everybody else there except Eeyore. Christopher Robin was telling them what to do, and Rabbit was telling them again directly afterwards, in case they hadnt heard, and then they were all doing it. They had got a rope and were pulling Owls chairs and pictures and things out of his old house so as to be ready to put them into his new one. Kanga was down below tying the things on, and calling out to Owl, “You wont want this dirty old dishcloth any more, will you, and what about this carpet, its all in holes,” and Owl was calling back indignantly, “Of course I do! Its just a question of arranging the furniture properly, and it isnt a dishcloth, its my shawl.” Every now and then Roo fell in and came back on the rope with the next article, which flustered Kanga a little because she never knew where to look for him. So she got cross with Owl and said that his house was a Disgrace, all damp and dirty, and it was quite time it did tumble down. Look at that horrid bunch of toadstools growing out of the floor there! So Owl looked down, a little surprised because he didnt know about this, and then gave a short sarcastic laugh, and explained that that was his sponge, and that if people didnt know a perfectly ordinary bath-sponge when they saw it, things were coming to a pretty pass. “*Well!*” said Kanga, and Roo fell in quickly, crying, “I *must* see Owls sponge! Oh, there it is! Oh, Owl! Owl, it isnt a sponge, its a spudge! Do you know what a spudge is, Owl? Its when your sponge gets all—” and Kanga said, “Roo, dear!” very quickly, because thats *not* the way to talk to anybody who can spell **Tuesday**.
But they were all quite happy when Pooh and Piglet came along, and they stopped working in order to have a little rest and listen to Poohs new song. So then they all told Pooh how good it was, and Piglet said carelessly, “It *is* good, isnt it? I mean as a song.”
“And what about the new house?” asked Pooh. “Have you found it, Owl?”
“Hes found a name for it,” said Christopher Robin, lazily nibbling at a piece of grass, “so now all he wants is the house.”
“I am calling it this,” said Owl importantly, and he showed them what he had been making. It was a square piece of board with the name of the house painted on it.
> The Wolery
It was at this exciting moment that something came through the trees, and bumped into Owl. The board fell to the ground, and Piglet and Roo bent over it eagerly.
“Oh, its you,” said Owl crossly.
“Hallo, Eeyore!” said Rabbit. “*There* you are! Where have *you* been?” Eeyore took no notice of them.
“Good morning, Christopher Robin,” he said, brushing away Roo and Piglet, and sitting down on **The Wolery**. “Are we alone?”
“Yes,” said Christopher Robin, smiling to himself.
“I have been told—the news has worked through to my corner of the Forest—the damp bit down on the right which nobody wants—that a certain Person is looking for a house. I have found one for him.”
“Ah, well done,” said Rabbit kindly.
Eeyore looked round slowly at him, and then turned back to Christopher Robin.
“We have been joined by something,” he said in a loud whisper. “But no matter. We can leave it behind. If you will come with me, Christopher Robin, I will show you the house.”
Christopher Robin jumped up.
“Come on, Pooh,” he said.
“Come on, Tigger!” cried Roo.
“Shall we go, Owl?” said Rabbit.
“Wait a moment,” said Owl, picking up his notice-board, which had just come into sight again.
Eeyore waved them back.
“Christopher Robin and I are going for a Short Walk,” he said, “not a Jostle. If he likes to bring Pooh and Piglet with him, I shall be glad of their company, but one must be able to Breathe.”
“Thats all right,” said Rabbit, rather glad to be left in charge of something. “Well go on getting the things out. Now then, Tigger, wheres that rope? Whats the matter, Owl?”
Owl, who had just discovered that his new address was **The Smudge**, coughed at Eeyore sternly, but said nothing, and Eeyore, with most of **The Wolery** behind him, marched off with his friends.
So, in a little while, they came to the house which Eeyore had found, and for some minutes before they came to it, Piglet was nudging Pooh, and Pooh was nudging Piglet, and they were saying, “It is!” and “It cant be!” and “It is, *really*!” to each other.
And when they got there, it really was.
“There!” said Eeyore proudly, stopping them outside Piglets house. “And the name on it, and everything!”
“Oh!” cried Christopher Robin, wondering whether to laugh or what.
“Just the house for Owl. Dont you think so, little Piglet?”
And then Piglet did a Noble Thing, and he did it in a sort of dream, while he was thinking of all the wonderful words Pooh had hummed about him.
“Yes, its just the house for Owl,” he said grandly. “And I hope hell be very happy in it.” And then he gulped twice, because he had been very happy in it himself.
“What do *you* think, Christopher Robin?” asked Eeyore a little anxiously, feeling that something wasnt quite right.
Christopher Robin had a question to ask first, and he was wondering how to ask it.
“Well,” he said at last, “its a very nice house, and if your own house is blown down, you *must* go somewhere else, mustnt you, Piglet? What would *you* do, if *your* house was blown down?”
Before Piglet could think, Pooh answered for him.
“Hed come and live with me,” said Pooh, “wouldnt you, Piglet?”
Piglet squeezed his paw.
“Thank you, Pooh,” he said, “I should love to.”

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# Colophon
![The Standard Ebooks logo.](../images/logo.png)
*The House at Pooh Corner*
was published in 1928 by
**A. A. Milne**.
This ebook was produced for
[Standard Ebooks](https://standardebooks.org/)
by
**Jack Baldikoski**,
and is based on a transcription produced in 2024 by
**Greg Weeks**, **Mary Meehan**, and [Distributed Proofreaders](https://www.pgdp.net/)
for
[Project Gutenberg](https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/73011)
and on digital scans from the
[Internet Archive](https://archive.org/details/the-house-at-pooh-corner).
The cover page is adapted from
*The Old Footbridge Over the River Cole at Yardley*,
a painting completed in 1890 by
[Frederick Henry Henshaw](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frederick_Henry_Henshaw).
The cover and title pages feature the
**League Spartan** and **Sorts Mill Goudy**
typefaces created in 2014 and 2009 by
[The League of Moveable Type](https://www.theleagueofmoveabletype.com/).
This edition was released on
**October 17, 2025, 5:13 p.m.**
and is based on
**revision ce896db**.
The first edition of this ebook was released on
October 17, 2025, 5:13 p.m.
You can check for updates to this ebook, view its revision history, or download it for different ereading systems at
[standardebooks.org/ebooks/a-a-milne/the-house-at-pooh-corner](https://standardebooks.org/ebooks/a-a-milne/the-house-at-pooh-corner).
The volunteer-driven Standard Ebooks project relies on readers like you to submit typos, corrections, and other improvements. Anyone can contribute at [standardebooks.org](https://standardebooks.org/).

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# Dedication
You gave me Christopher Robin, and then
You breathed new life in Pooh.
Whatever of each has left my pen
Goes homing back to you.
My book is ready, and comes to greet
The mother it longs to see
It would be my present to you, my sweet,
If it werent your gift to me.

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# The House at Pooh Corner

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# Imprint
![The Standard Ebooks logo.](../images/logo.png)
This ebook is the product of many hours of hard work by volunteers for [Standard Ebooks](https://standardebooks.org/), and builds on the hard work of other literature lovers made possible by the public domain.
This particular ebook is based on a transcription from [Project Gutenberg](https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/73011) and on digital scans from the [Internet Archive](https://archive.org/details/the-house-at-pooh-corner).
The source text and artwork in this ebook are believed to be in the United States public domain; that is, they are believed to be free of copyright restrictions in the United States. They may still be copyrighted in other countries, so users located outside of the United States must check their local laws before using this ebook. The creators of, and contributors to, this ebook dedicate their contributions to the worldwide public domain via the terms in the [CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication](https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). For full license information, see the [Uncopyright](uncopyright.md) at the end of this ebook.
Standard Ebooks is a volunteer-driven project that produces ebook editions of public domain literature using modern typography, technology, and editorial standards, and distributes them free of cost. You can download this and other ebooks carefully produced for true book lovers at [standardebooks.org](https://standardebooks.org/).

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# Contradiction
An introduction is to introduce people, but Christopher Robin and his friends, who have already been introduced to you, are now going to say Goodbye. So this is the opposite. When we asked Pooh what the opposite of an Introduction was, he said “The what of a what?” which didnt help us as much as we had hoped, but luckily Owl kept his head and told us that the opposite of an Introduction, my dear Pooh, was a Contradiction; and, as he is very good at long words, I am sure that thats what it is.
Why we are having a Contradiction is because last week when Christopher Robin said to me, “What about that story you were going to tell me about what happened to Pooh when—” I happened to say very quickly, “What about nine times a hundred and seven?” And when we had done that one, we had one about cows going through a gate at two a minute, and there are three hundred in the field, so how many are left after an hour and a half? We find these very exciting, and when we have been excited quite enough, we curl up and go to sleep… and Pooh, sitting wakeful a little longer on his chair by our pillow, thinks Grand Thoughts to himself about Nothing, until he, too, closes his eyes and nods his head, and follows us on tiptoe into the Forest. There, still, we have magic adventures, more wonderful than any I have told you about; but now, when we wake up in the morning, they are gone before we can catch hold of them. How did the last one begin? “One day when Pooh was walking in the Forest, there were one hundred and seven cows on a gate. …” No, you see, we have lost it. It was the best, I think. Well, here are some of the other ones, all that we shall remember now. But, of course, it isnt really Goodbye, because the Forest will always be there… and anybody who is Friendly with Bears can find it.
A. A. M.

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![](../images/titlepage.png)

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# Uncopyright
> May you do good and not evil.
> May you find forgiveness for yourself and forgive others.
> May you share freely, never taking more than you give.
Copyright pages exist to tell you that you *cant* do something. Unlike them, this Uncopyright page exists to tell you that the writing and artwork in this ebook are believed to be in the United States public domain; that is, they are believed to be free of copyright restrictions in the United States. The United States public domain represents our collective cultural heritage, and items in it are free for anyone in the United States to do almost anything at all with, without having to get permission.
Copyright laws are different all over the world, and the source text or artwork in this ebook may still be copyrighted in other countries. If youre not located in the United States, you must check your local laws before using this ebook. Standard Ebooks makes no representations regarding the copyright status of the source text or artwork in this ebook in any country other than the United States.
Non-authorship activities performed on items that are in the public domain—so-called “sweat of the brow” work—dont create a new copyright. That means that nobody can claim a new copyright on an item that is in the public domain for, among other things, work like digitization, markup, or typography. Regardless, the contributors to this ebook release their contributions under the terms in the [CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication](https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/), thus dedicating to the worldwide public domain all of the work theyve done on this ebook, including but not limited to metadata, the titlepage, imprint, colophon, this Uncopyright, and any changes or enhancements to, or markup on, the original text and artwork. This dedication doesnt change the copyright status of the source text or artwork. We make this dedication in the interest of enriching our global cultural heritage, to promote free and libre culture around the world, and to give back to the unrestricted culture that has given all of us so much.

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# Table of Contents
1. [Titlepage](text/titlepage.md)
2. [Imprint](text/imprint.md)
3. [Dedication](text/dedication.md)
4. [Contradiction](text/introduction.md)
5. [The House at Pooh Corner](text/halftitlepage.md)
1. [I: In Which a House Is Built at Pooh Corner for Eeyore](text/chapter-1.md)
2. [II: In Which Tigger Comes to the Forest and Has Breakfast](text/chapter-2.md)
3. [III: In Which a Search Is Organdized, and Piglet Nearly Meets the Heffalump Again](text/chapter-3.md)
4. [IV: In Which It Is Shown That Tiggers Dont Climb Trees](text/chapter-4.md)
5. [V: In Which Rabbit Has a Busy Day, and We Learn What Christopher Robin Does in the Mornings](text/chapter-5.md)
6. [VI: In Which Pooh Invents a New Game and Eeyore Joins In](text/chapter-6.md)
7. [VII: In Which Tigger Is Unbounced](text/chapter-7.md)
8. [VIII: In Which Piglet Does a Very Grand Thing](text/chapter-8.md)
9. [IX: In Which Eeyore Finds the Wolery and Owl Moves Into It](text/chapter-9.md)
10. [X: In Which Christopher Robin and Pooh Come to an Enchanted Place, and We Leave Them There](text/chapter-10.md)
6. [Colophon](text/colophon.md)
7. [Uncopyright](text/uncopyright.md)
# Landmarks
1. [The House at Pooh Corner](text/chapter-1.md)

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