The house at Pooh Corner
Alan Alexander Miln
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 weren't your gift to me.
An Introduction is to introduce people, but Christopher Robin and his friends, who have already been introduced to you, are now going to say Good-bye. So this is the opposite. When we asked Pooh what the opposite of an Introduction was, he said “The what of a what?” which didn't 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 that's 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 pil low, thinks Grand Thoughts to himself about Nothing, until he, too, closes his eyes and nods his head, and follows us on tip- toe 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 walk ing 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 isn't really Good-bye, because the Forest will always be there... and anybody who is Friendly with Bears can find it.
IN WHICH A HOUSE IS BUILT AT POOH CORNER FOR EEYORE
ONE day when Pooh Bear had nothing else to do, he thought he would do something, so he went round to Piglet's 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 wasn't there.
“He's out,” said Pooh sadly. “That's what it is. He's 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
The more it goes
The more it goes
And nobody knows
How cold my toes
How cold my toes
“So what I'll do,” said Pooh, “is I'll do this. I'll just go home first and see what the time is, and perhaps I'll put a muffler round my neck, and then I'll 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 arm-chair, 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, “it's 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 o'clock,” said Pooh happily. “You're just in time for a little smackerel of something,” and he put his head into the cupboard. “And then we'll go out, Piglet, and sing my song to Eeyore.”
“Which song, Pooh?”
“The one we're 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 Pooh's nose and sometimes it wasn't, 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 didn't 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 to-morrow—or—or the next day, when we happen to see him?”
“That's a very good idea, Piglet,” said Pooh. “We'll practise it now as we go along. But it's no good going home to practise it, because it's a special Outdoor Song which Has To Be Sung In The Snow.”
“Are you sure?” asked Piglet anxiously.
“Well, you'll 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—”
“Didn't you say snows?”
“Yes, but that was before.”
“Before the tiddely pom?”
“It was a different tiddely pom,” said Pooh, feeling rather muddled now. “I'll sing it to you properly and then you'll see.”
So he sang it again.
The more it
The more it
The more it
How cold my
How cold my
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 isn't the toes so much as the ears.”
By this time they were getting near Eeyore's Gloomy Place, which was where he lived, and as it was still very snowy behind Piglet's 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 Pooh's 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.
“I've been thinking,” said Pooh, “and what I've been thinking is this. I've 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 Rabbit's friends and relations have houses or somethings, but poor Eeyore has nothing. So what I've been thinking is: Let's build him a house.”
“That,” said Piglet, “is a Grand Idea. Where shall we build it?”
“We will 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 didn't 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?”
“It's snowing still,” said Eeyore gloomily.
“So it is.”
“Yes,” said Eeyore. “However,” he said, brightening up a little, “we haven't had an earthquake lately.”
“What's the matter, Eeyore?”
“Nothing, Christopher Robin. Nothing important. I suppose you haven't seen a house or what-not 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 don't. After all, we can't all have houses.”
“But, Eeyore, I didn't know—I always thought—”
“I don't know how it is, Christopher Robin, but what with all this snow and one thing and another, not to mention icicles and such-like, it isn't so Hot in my field about three o'clock in the morning as some people think it is. It isn't Close, if you know what I mean—not so as to be uncomfortable. It isn't Stuffy. In fact, Christopher Robin,” he went on in a loud whisper, “quite-between-ourselves-and- don't-tell-anybody, it's Cold.”
“And I said to myself: The others will be sorry if I'm getting myself all cold. They haven't got Brains, any of them, only grey fluff that's blown into their heads by mistake, and they don't Think, but if it goes on snowing for another six weeks or so, one of them will begin to say to himself: 'Eeyore can't be so very much too Hot about three o'clock in the morning. ' And then it will Get About. And they'll be Sorry.”
“Oh, Eeyore!” said Christopher Robin, feeling very sorry already.
“I don't mean you, Christopher Robin. You're 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 wasn't. Not at all, very natural, and it was only Eeyore's house. But still I just wondered.”
Christopher Robin didn't 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.
“We'll go and look for it at once,” he called out to Eeyore.
“Sometimes,” said Eeyore, “when people have quite finished taking a person's house, there are one or two bits which they don't 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 pine-wood, where Eeyore's house wasn't any longer.
“There!” said Eeyore. “Not a stick of it left! Of course, I've still got all this snow to do what I like with. One mustn't complain.”
But Christopher Robin wasn't listening to Eeyore, he was listening to something else.
“Can't you hear it?” he asked.
“What is it? Somebody laughing?”
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.
“It's 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.
“We've finished our HOUSE!” sang the gruff voice.
“Tiddely pom!” sang the squeaky one.
“It's a beautiful HOUSE...”
“I wish it were MINE..,”
“Pooh!” shouted Christopher Robin...
The singers on the gate stopped suddenly.
“It's Christopher Robin!” said Pooh eagerly.
“He's 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.
“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 Eeyore's 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?”
“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.
“You're sure it was a house?” said Pooh. “I mean, you're 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, what's the matter, Pooh?” asked Christopher Robin.
“Well,” said Pooh... “The fact is,” said Pooh... “Well, the fact is,” said Pooh... “You see,” said Pooh... “It's like this,” said Pooh, and something seemed to tell him that he wasn't explaining very well, and he nudged Piglet again.
“It's like this,” said Piglet quickly... “Only warmer,” he added after deep thought.
“The other side of the wood, where Eeyore's 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 wouldn't be two houses,” said Pooh. “Not so close together.”
They came round the corner, and there was Eeyore's 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.
“It's 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! That's 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 isn't every one who could do it.”
IN WHICH TIGGER COMES TO THE FOREST AND HAS BREAKFAST
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 weren't, 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 wasn't.
“Come in, Christopher Robin,” he said.
But Christopher Robin didn't.
“Tell me about it to-morrow, Eeyore,” said Pooh sleepily.
But the noise went on.
“Worraworraworraworraworra,” said Whatever-it-was, and Pooh found that he wasn't asleep after all.
“What can it be?” he thought. “There are lots of noises in the Forest, but this is a different one. It isn't a growl, and it isn't a purr, and it isn't a bark, and it isn't the noise-you-make-before- beginning-a-piece-of-poetry, but it's a noise of some kind, made by a strange animal. And he's 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!”
“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 wouldn't, 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.
“I'm Pooh,” said Pooh.
“I'm 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, “it's the middle of the night, which is a good time for going to sleep. And to-morrow morning we'll 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, I'll go back to bed,” said Pooh, “and we'll 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. “I've 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 there's 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?”
“That's 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 wasn't looking?”
“I don't 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 honey-pot 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 don't 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 Piglet's house, and Tigger could try some of Piglet's 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 didn't 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 Pooh's shadow when it wasn't 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 Piglet's 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.
|A long time ago, there was a poor old woman who lived in a small house in the country. Near her house was a wood|
|На перекрёстке (down on the corner)|
|Dangerous corner by John Boynton Priestley||Документы|
1. /Corner baffle/djvuso1.djvu
|The little house”||Юха Йокела Фундаменталистка|
Надзор за соблюдением специальных прав на эту пьесу осуществляет Näytelmäkulma – Nordic Drama Corner Oy Meritullinkatu 33 E, 00170...
|Chapter 4 The White Rabbit's House||My freedom is best Whole country's on house arrest|