The house at Pooh Corner
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 isn't cooing,
But he's cucking and he's 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 isn't 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."
"That's no good."
"No," said Pooh. "I thought it wasn't."
"Have you seen Piglet?"
"Yes," said Pooh. "I suppose _that_ isn't 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 you've seen him do in the morning?
These last few days."
"Yes," said Pooh. "We had breakfast together yesterday. By the Pine
Trees. I'd 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 o'clock--at eleven o'clock--well, at
eleven o'clock, 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 _hadn't_
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 he'd
go.
"That's just it," said Rabbit, "Where?"
"Perhaps he's looking for something."
"What?" asked Rabbit.
"That's just what I was going to say," said Pooh. And then he added,
"Perhaps he's looking for a--for a----"
"A Spotted or Herbaceous Backson?"
"Yes," said Pooh. "One of those. In case it isn't."
Rabbit looked at him severely.
"I don't think you're 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,
good-bye, 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.
"It's an A."
"Oh," said Piglet.
"Not O, A," said Eeyore severely. "Can't 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 don't."
"It means Learning, it means Education, it means all the things that
you and Pooh haven't got. That's what A means."
"Oh," said Piglet again. "I mean, does it?" he explained quickly.
"I'm telling you. People come and go in this Forest, and they say,
'It's only Eeyore, so it doesn't count.' They walk to and fro saying
'Ha ha!' But do they know anything about A? They don't. It's just three
sticks to _them_. But to the Educated--mark this, little Piglet--to the
Educated, not meaning Poohs and Piglets, it's 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.
"Here's 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 "Good-bye" in about two more
minutes.
"There's just one thing I wanted to ask you, Eeyore. What happens to
Christopher Robin in the mornings nowadays?"
"What's this that I'm 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 didn't. I expect he just knew."
"He _knew_? You mean this A thing is a thing _Rabbit_ knew?"
"Yes, Eeyore. He's 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.
"Don't," 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 Robin's 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.
CHAPTER VI
IN WHICH _Pooh Invents a New Game and Eeyore Joins In_
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 some day." 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 couldn't
think of anything. And then this came into his head suddenly:
Here is a myst'ry
About a little fir-tree.
Owl says it's _his_ tree,
And Kanga says it's _her_ tree.
"Which doesn't make sense," said Pooh, "because Kanga doesn't 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.
"That's 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 didn't 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 _that's_ 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 didn't ever get
there at all.
"I can see mine!" cried Roo. "No, I can't, it's something else. Can you
see yours, Piglet? I thought I could see mine, but I couldn't. There it