Alan Alexander Miln. Winnie-The-Pooh and All, All, All
Original of this document is at http://www.machaon.ru/pooh/
To her
Hand in hand we come
Christopher Robin and I
To lay this book in your lap.
Say you're surprised?
Say it's just what you wanted?
Because it's yours -
because we love you.
Introduction
IF you happen to have read another book about
Christopher Robin, you may remember that he once had a swan (or
the swan had Christopher Robin, I don't know which) and that he
used to call this swan Pooh. That was a long time ago, and when
we said good-bye, we took the name with us, as we didn't think
the swan would want it any more. Well, when Edward Bear said
that he would like an exciting name all to himself, Christopher
Robin said at once, without stopping to think, that he was
Winnie-the-Pooh. And he was. So, as I have explained the Pooh
part, I will now explain the rest of it.
You can't be in London for long without going to the
Zoo. There are some people who begin the Zoo at the beginning,
called WAYIN, and walk as quickly as they can past every cage
until they get to the one called WAYOUT, but the nicest people
go straight to the animal they love the most, and stay there.
So when Christopher Robin goes to the Zoo, he goes to where the
Polar Bears are, and he whispers something to the third keeper
from the left, and doors are unlocked, and we wander through
dark passages and up steep stairs, until at last we come to the
special cage, and the cage is opened, and out trots something
brown and furry, and with a happy cry of "Oh, Bear!"
Christopher Robin rushes into its arms. Now this bear's name is
Winnie, which shows what a good name for bears it is, but the
funny thing is that we can't remember whether Winnie is called
after Pooh, or Pooh after Winnie. We did know once, but we have
forgotten. . . .
I had written as far as this when Piglet looked up and
said in his squeaky voice, "What about Me?" "My dear Piglet," I
said, "the whole book is about you." "So it is about Pooh," he
squeaked. You see what it is. He is jealous because he thinks
Pooh is having a Grand Introduction all to himself. Pooh is the
favourite, of course, there's no denying it, but Piglet comes
in for a good many things which Pooh misses; because you can't
take Pooh to school without everybody knowing it, but Piglet is
so small that he slips into a pocket, where it is very
comforting to feel him when you are not quite sure whether
twice seven is twelve or twenty-two. Sometimes he slips out and
has a good look in the ink-pot, and in this way he has got more
education than Pooh, but Pooh doesn't mind. Some have brains,
and some haven't, he says, and there it is.
And now all the others are saying, "What about Us?" So
perhaps the best thing to do is to stop writing Introductions
and get on with the book.
A. A. M.
* PART 1 *
Chapter 1
...in which we are introduced to
Winnie-the-Pooh and some bees, and the stories begin
HERE is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now, bump, bump,
bump, on the back of his head, behind Christopher Robin. It is,
as far as he knows, the only way of coming downstairs, but
sometimes he feels that there really is another way, if only he
could stop bumping for a moment and think of it.
And then he feels that perhaps there isn't. Anyhow,
here he is at the bottom, and ready to be introduced to you.
Winnie-the-Pooh.
When I first heard his name, I said, just as you are
going to say, "But I thought he was a boy?"
"So did I," said Christopher Robin.
"Then you can't call him Winnie?"
"I don't."
"But you said -- "
"He's Winnie-ther-Pooh. Don't you know what 'ther'
means?"
"Ah, yes, now I do," I said quickly; and I hope you do
too, because it is all the explanation you are going to get.
Sometimes Winnie-the-Pooh likes a game of some sort
when he comes downstairs, and sometimes he likes to sit quietly
in front of the fire and listen to a story. This evening --
"What about a story?" said Christopher Robin.
"What about a story?" I said.
"Could you very sweetly tell Winnie-the-Pooh one?"
"I suppose I could," I said. "What sort of stories does
he like?"
"About himself. Because he's that sort of Bear."
"Oh, I see."
"So could you very sweetly?"
"I'll try," I said.
So I tried.
Once upon a time, a very long time ago now, about last
Friday, Winnie-the-Pooh lived in a forest all by himself under
the name of Sanders.
("What does 'under the name' mean?" asked Christopher
Robin. "It means he had the name over the door in gold letters,
and lived under it."
"Winnie-the-Pooh wasn't quite sure," said Christopher
Robin.
"Now I am," said a growly voice.
"Then I will go on," said I.)
One day when he was out walking, he came to an open
place in the middle of the forest, and in the middle of this
place was a large oak-tree, and, from the top of the tree,
there came a loud buzzing-noise.
Winnie-the-Pooh sat down at the foot of the tree, put
his head between his paws and began to think.
First of all he said to himself: "That buzzing-noise
means something. You don't get a buzzing-noise like that, just
buzzing and buzzing, without its meaning something. If there's
a buzzing-noise, somebody's making a buzzing-noise, and the
only reason for making a buzzing-noise that I know of is
because you're a bee."
Then he thought another long time, and said: "And the
only reason for being a bee that I know of is making honey."
And then he got up, and said: "And the only reason for
making honey is so as I can eat it." So he began to climb the
tree
He climbed and he climbed and he climbed and as he
climbed he sang a little song to himself. It went like this:
Isn't it funny
How a bear likes honey?
Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
I wonder why he does?
Then he climbed a little further. . . and a little
further . . . and then just a little further. By that time he
had thought of another song.
It's a very funny thought that, if Bears were Bees,
They'd build their nests at the bottom of trees.
And that being so (if the Bees were Bears),
We shouldn't have to climb up all these stairs.
He was getting rather tired by this time, so that is
why he sang a Complaining Song. He was nearly there now, and if
he just s t o o d o n t h a t branch . . .
Crack !
"Oh, help!" said Pooh, as he dropped ten feet on the
branch below him.
"If only I hadn't -- " he said, as he bounced twenty
feet on to the next branch.
"You see, what I meant to do," he explained, as he
turned head-over-heels, and crashed on to another branch thirty
feet below, "what I meant to do -- "
"Of course, it was rather -- " he admitted, as he
slithered very quickly through the next six branches.
"It all comes, I suppose," he decided, as he said
good-bye to the last branch, spun round three times, and flew
gracefully into a gorse-bush, "it all comes of liking honey so
much. Oh, help!"
He crawled out of the gorse-bush, brushed the prickles
from his nose, and began to think again. And the first person
he thought of was Christopher Robin.
("Was that me?" said Christopher Robin in an awed
voice, hardly daring to believe it.
"That was you."
Christopher Robin said nothing, but his eyes got larger
and larger, and his face got pinker and pinker.)
So Winnie-the-Pooh went round to his friend Christopher
Robin, who lived behind a green door in another part of the
Forest.
"Good morning, Christopher Robin," he said.
"Good morning, Winnie-ther-Pooh," said you.
"I wonder if you've got such a thing as a balloon about
you?"
"A balloon?"
"Yes, I just said to myself coming along: 'I wonder if
Christopher Robin has such a thing as a balloon about him?' I
just said it to myself, thinking of balloons, and wondering."
"What do you want a balloon for?" you said.
Winnie-the-Pooh looked round to see that nobody was
listening, put his paw to his mouth, and said in a deep
whisper: "Honey!"
"But you don't get honey with balloons!"
"I do," said Pooh.
Well, it just happened that you had been to a party the
day before at the house of your friend Piglet, and you had
balloons at the party. You had had a big green balloon; and one
of Rabbit's relations had had a big blue one, and had left it
behind, being really too young to go to a party at all; and so
you had brought the green one and the blue one home with you.
"Which one would you like?" you asked Pooh. He put his
head between his paws and thought very carefully.
"It's like this," he said. "When you go after honey
with a balloon, the great thing is not to let the bees know
you're coming. Now, if you have a green balloon, they might
think you were only part of the tree, and not notice you, and
if you have a blue balloon, they might think you were only part
of the sky, and not notice you, and the question is: Which is
most likely?"
"Wouldn't they notice you underneath the balloon?" you
asked.
"They might or they might not," said Winnie-the-Pooh.
"You never can tell with bees." He thought for a moment and
said: "I shall try to look like a small black cloud. That will
deceive them."
"Then you had better have the blue balloon," you said;
and so it was decided.
Well, you both went out with the blue balloon, and you
took your gun with you, just in case, as you always did, and
Winnie-the-Pooh went to a very muddy place that he knew of, and
rolled and rolled until he was black all over; and then, when
the balloon was blown up as big as big, and you and Pooh were
both holding on to the string, you let go suddenly, and Pooh
Bear floated gracefully up into the sky, and stayed there --
level with the top of the tree and about twenty feet away from
it.
"Hooray!" you shouted.
"Isn't that fine?" shouted Winnie-the-Pooh down to you.
"What do I look like?"
"You look like a Bear holding on to a balloon," you
said.
"Not," said Pooh anxiously, " -- not like a small black
cloud in a blue sky?"
"Not very much."
"Ah, well, perhaps from up here it looks different.
And, as I say, you never can tell with bees."
There was no wind to blow him nearer to the tree, so
there he stayed. He could see the honey, he could smell the
honey, but he couldn't quite reach the honey.
After a little while he called down to you.
"Christopher Robin!" he said in a loud whisper.
"Hallo!"
"I think the bees suspect something!"
"What sort of thing?"
"I don't know. But something tells me that they're
suspicious!"
"Perhaps they think that you're after their honey?"
"It may be that. You never can tell with bees."
There was another little silence, and then he called
down to you again.
"Christopher Robin!"
"Yes?"
"Have you an umbrella in your house?"
"I think so."
"I wish you would bring it out here, and walk up and
down with it, and look up at me every now and then, and say
'Tut-tut, it looks like rain.' I think, if you did that, it
would help the deception which we are practising on these
bees."
Well, you laughed to yourself, "Silly old Bear !" but
you didn't say it aloud because you were so fond of him, and
you went home for your umbrella.
"Oh, there you are!" called down Winnie-the-Pooh, as
soon as you got back to the tree. "I was beginning to get
anxious. I have discovered that the bees are now definitely
Suspicious."
"Shall I put my umbrella up?" you said.
"Yes, but wait a moment. We must be practical. The
important bee to deceive is the Queen Bee. Can you see which is
the Queen Bee from down there?"
"No."
"A pity. Well, now, if you walk up and down with your
umbrella, saying, 'Tut-tut, it looks like rain,' I shall do
what I can by singing a little Cloud Song, such as a cloud
might sing. . . . Go!"
So, while you walked up and down and wondered if it
would rain, Winnie-the-Pooh sang this song:
How sweet to be a Cloud
Floating in the Blue!
Every little cloud
Always sings aloud.
"How sweet to be a Cloud
Floating in the Blue!"
It makes him very proud
To be a little cloud.
The bees were still buzzing as suspiciously as ever.
Some of them, indeed, left their nests and flew all round the
cloud as it began the second verse of this song, and one bee
sat down on the nose of the cloud for a moment, and then got up
again.
"Christopher -- ow! -- Robin," called out the cloud.
"Yes?"
"I have just been thinking, and I have come to a very
important decision. These are the wrong sort of bees."
"Are they?"
"Quite the wrong sort. So I should think they would
make the wrong sort of honey, shouldn't you?"
"Would they?"
"Yes. So I think I shall come down."
"How?" asked you.
Winnie-the-Pooh hadn't thought about this. If he let go
of the string, he would fall -- bump -- and he didn't like the
idea of that. So he thought for a long time, and then he said:
"Christopher Robin, you must shoot the balloon with
your gun. Have you got your gun?"
"Of course I have," you said. "But if I do that, it
will spoil the balloon," you said. But if you don't" said Pooh,
"I shall have to let go, and that would spoil me."
When he put it like this, you saw how it was, and you
aimed very carefully at the balloon, and fired.
"Ow!" said Pooh.
"Did I miss?" you asked.
"You didn't exactly miss," said Pooh, "but you missed
the balloon."
"I'm so sorry," you said, and you fired again, and this
time you hit the balloon and the air came slowly out, and
Winnie-the-Pooh floated down to the ground.
But his arms were so stiff from holding on to the
string of the balloon all that time that they stayed up
straight in the air for more than a week, and whenever a fly
came and settled on his nose he had to blow it off. And I think
-- but I am not sure -- that that is why he was always called
Pooh.
"Is that the end of the story?" asked Christopher
Robin.
"That's the end of that one. There are others."
"About Pooh and Me?"
"And Piglet and Rabbit and all of you. Don't you
remember?"
"I do remember, and then when I try to remember, I
forget."
"That day when Pooh and Piglet tried to catch the
Heffalump -- "
"They didn't catch it, did they?"
"No."
"Pooh couldn't, because he hasn't any brain. Did I
catch it?"
"Well, that comes into the story."
Christopher Robin nodded.
"I do remember," he said, "only Pooh doesn't very well,
so that's why he likes having it told to him again. Because
then it's a real story and not just a remembering."
"That's just how I feel," I said.
Christopher Robin gave a deep sigh, picked his Bear up
by the leg, and walked off to the door, trailing Pooh behind
him. At the door he turned and said, "Coming to see me have my
bath?" "I didn't hurt him when I shot him, did I?" "Not a bit."
He nodded and went out, and in a moment I heard Winnie-the-Pooh
-- bump, bump, bump -- going up the stairs behind him.
Chapter 2
...in which Pooh goes visiting and gets
into a tight place
EDWARD BEAR, known to his friends as Winnie-the-Pooh,
or Pooh for short, was walking through the forest one day,
humming proudly to himself. He had made up a little hum that
very morning, as he was doing his Stoutness Exercises in front
of the glass: Tra-la-la, tra-la-la, as he stretched up as high
as he could go, and then Tra-la-la, tra-la -- oh, help! -- la,
as he tried to reach his toes. After breakfast he had said it
over and over to himself until he had learnt it off by heart,
and now he was humming it right through, properly. It went like
this:
Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,
Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,
Rum-tum-tiddle-um-tum.
Tiddle-iddle, tiddle-iddle,
Tiddle-iddle, tiddle-iddle,
Rum-tum-tum-tiddle-um.
Well, he was humming this hum to himself, and walking
along gaily, wondering what everybody else was doing, and what
it felt like, being somebody else, when suddenly he came to a
sandy bank, and in the bank was a large hole.
"Aha !" said Pooh. (Rum-tum-tiddle-um-tum.) "If I know
anything about anything, that hole means Rabbit," he said, "and
Rabbit means Company," he said, "and Company means Food and
Listening-to-Me-Humming and such like. Rum-tum-tum-tiddle-um.
So he bent down, put his head into the hole, and called
out:
"Is anybody at home?"
There was a sudden scuffling noise from inside the
hole, and then silence.
"What I said was, 'Is anybody at home?'" called out
Pooh very loudly.
"No!" said a voice; and then added, "You needn't shout
so loud. I heard you quite well the first time."
"Bother!" said Pooh. "Isn't there anybody here at all?"
"Nobody."
Winnie-the-Pooh took his head out of the hole, and
thought for a little, and he thought to himself, "There must be
somebody there, because somebody must have said 'Nobody.'" So
he put his head back in the hole, and said: "Hallo, Rabbit,
isn't that you?"
"No," said Rabbit, in a different sort of voice this
time.
"But isn't that Rabbit's voice?"
"I don't think so," said Rabbit. "It isn't meant to
be."
"Oh!" said Pooh.
He took his head out of the hole, and had another
think, and then he put it back, and said:
"Well, could you very kindly tell me where Rabbit is?"
"He has gone to see his friend Pooh Bear, who is a
great friend of his."
"But this is Me!" said Bear, very much surprised.
"What sort of Me?"
"Pooh Bear."
"Are you sure?" said Rabbit, still more surprised.
"Quite, quite sure," said Pooh.
"Oh, well, then, come in."
So Pooh pushed and pushed and pushed his way through
the hole, and at last he got in.
"You were quite right," said Rabbit, looking at him all
over. "It is you. Glad to see you."
"Who did you think it was?"
"Well, I wasn't sure. You know how it is in the Forest.
One can't have anybody coming into one's house. One has to be
careful. What about a mouthful of something?"
Pooh always liked a little something at eleven o'clock
in the morning, and he was very glad to see Rabbit getting out
the plates and mugs; and when Rabbit said, "Honey or condensed
milk with your bread?" he was so excited that he said, "Both,"
and then, so as not to seem greedy, he added, "But don't bother
about the bread, please." And for a long time after that he
said nothing . . . until at last, humming to himself in a
rather sticky voice, he got up, shook Rabbit lovingly by the
paw, and said that he must be going on.
"Must you?" said Rabbit politely
"Well," said Pooh, "I could stay a little longer if it
-- if you -- " and he tried very hard to look in the direction
of the larder.
"As a matter of fact," said Rabbit, "I was going out
myself directly."
"Oh well, then, I'll be going on. Good-bye."
"Well, good-bye, if you're sure you won't have any
more."
"Is there any more?" asked Pooh quickly.
Rabbit took the covers off the dishes, and said, "No,
there wasn't."
"I thought not," said Pooh, nodding to himself "Well,
good-bye. I must be going on."
So he started to climb out of the hole. He pulled with
his front paws, and pushed with his back paws, and in a little
while his nose was out in the open again . . . and then his
ears . . . and then his front paws . . . and then his shoulders
. . . and then --
"Oh, help!" said Pooh. "I'd better go back."
"Oh, bother!" said Pooh. "I shall have to go on."
"I can't do either!" said Pooh. "Oh, help and bother!"
Now, by this time Rabbit wanted to go for a walk too,
and finding the front door full, he went out by the back door,
and came round to Pooh, and looked at him.
"Hallo, are you stuck?" he asked.
"N-no," said Pooh carelessly. "Just resting and
thinking and humming to myself."
"Here, give us a paw."
Pooh Bear stretched out a paw, and Rabbit pulled and
pulled and pulled....
"0w!" cried Pooh. "You're hurting!"
"The fact is," said Rabbit, "you're stuck."
"It all comes," said Pooh crossly, "of not having front
doors big enough."
"It all comes," said Rabbit sternly, "of eating too
much. I thought at the time," said Rabbit, "only I didn't like
to say anything," said Rabbit, "that one of us has eating too
much," said Rabbit, "and I knew it wasn't me," he said. "Well,
well, I shall go and fetch Christopher Robin."
Christopher Robin lived at the other end of the Forest,
and when he came back with Rabbit, and saw the front half of
Pooh, he said, "Silly old Bear," in such a loving voice that
everybody felt quite hopeful again.
"I was just beginning to think," said Bear, sniffing
slightly, "that Rabbit might never be able to use his front
door again. And I should hate that," he said.
"So should I," said Rabbit.
"Use his front door again?" said Christopher Robin. "Of
course he'll use his front door again. "Good," said Rabbit.
"If we can't pull you out, Pooh, we might push you
back."
Rabbit scratched his whiskers thoughtfully, and pointed
out that, when once Pooh was pushed back, he was back, and of
course nobody was more glad to see Pooh than he was, still
there it was, some lived in trees and some lived underground,
and --
"You mean I'd never get out?" said Pooh.
"I mean," said Rabbit, "that having got so far, it
seems a pity to waste it."
Christopher Robin nodded.
"Then there's only one thing to be done," he said. "We
shall have to wait for you to get thin again."
"How long does getting thin take?" asked Pooh
anxiously.
"About a week, I should think."
"But I can't stay here for a week!"
"You can stay here all right, silly old Bear. It's
getting you out which is so difficult."
"We'll read to you," said Rabbit cheerfully. "And I
hope it won't snow," he added. "And I say, old fellow, you're
taking up a good deal of room in my house -- do you mind if I
use your back legs as a towel-horse? Because, I mean, there
they are -- doing nothing -- and it would be very convenient
just to hang the towels on them."
"A week!" said Pooh gloomily. "What about meals?"
"I'm afraid no meals," said Christopher Robin, "because
of getting thin quicker. But we will read to you."
Bear began to sigh, and then found he couldn't because
he was so tightly stuck; and a tear rolled down his eye, as he
said:
"Then would you read a Sustaining Book, such as would
help and comfort a Wedged Bear in Great Tightness?" So for a
week Christopher
Robin read that sort of book at the North end of Pooh,
and Rabbit hung his washing on the South end . . . and in
between Bear felt himself getting slenderer and slenderer. And
at the end of the week Christopher Robin said, "Now!"
So he took hold of Pooh's front paws and Rabbit took
hold of Christopher Robin, and all Rabbit's friends and
relations took hold of Rabbit, and they all pulled together....
And for a long time Pooh only said "Ow!" . . .
And "Oh!" . . .
And then, all of a sudden, he said "Pop!" just as if a
cork were coming out of bottle.
And Christopher Robin and Rabbit and all Rabbit's
friends and relations went head-over-heels backwards . . . and
on the top of them came Winnie-the-Pooh -- free!
So, with a nod of thanks to his friends, he went on
with his walk through the forest, humming proudly to himself.
But, Christopher Robin looked after him lovingly, and said to
himself, "Silly old Bear!"
Chapter 3
...in which Pooh and piglet go hunting
and nearly catch a woozle
THE Piglet lived in a very grand house in the middle of
a beech-tree, and the beech-tree was in the middle of the
forest, and the Piglet lived in the middle of the house. Next
to his house was a piece of broken board which had:
"TRESPASSERS W" on it. When Christopher Robin asked the Piglet
what it meant, he said it was his grandfather's name, and had
been in the family for a long time. Christopher Robin said you
couldn't be called Trespassers W, and Piglet said yes, you
could, because his grandfather was, and it was short for
Trespassers Will, which was short for Trespassers William. And
his grandfather had had two names in case he lost one --
Trespassers after an uncle, and William after Trespassers.
"I've got two names," said Christopher Robin
carelessly.
"Well, there you are, that proves it," said Piglet.
One fine winter's day when Piglet was brushing away the
snow in front of his house, he happened to look up, and there
was Winnie-the-Pooh. Pooh was walking round and round in a
circle, thinking of something else, and when Piglet called to
him, he just went on walking.
"Hallo!" said Piglet, "what are you doing?"
"Hunting," said Pooh.
"Hunting what?"
"Tracking something," said Winnie-the-Pooh very
mysteriously.
"Tracking what?" said Piglet, coming closer
"That's just what I ask myself. I ask myself, What?"