Winnie-the-Pooh

Well, it’s funny.

He had murmured this to himself three times in a singing sort of way, when suddenly he remembered. He had put it into the Cunning Trap to catch the Heffalump.

‘Bother!’ said Pooh. ‘It all comes of trying to be kind to Heffalumps.’ And he got back into bed.

But he couldn’t sleep. The more he tried to sleep, the more he couldn’t. He tried Counting Sheep, which is sometimes a good way of getting to sleep, and, as that was no good, he tried counting Heffalumps. And that was worse. Because every Heffalump that he counted was making straight for a pot of Pooh’s honey, and eating it all. For some minutes he lay there miserably, but when the five hundred and eighty-seventh Heffalump was licking its jaws, and saying to itself, ‘Very good honey this, I don’t know when I’ve tasted better,’ Pooh could bear it no longer. He jumped out of bed, he ran out of the house, and he ran straight to the Six Pine Trees.

The Sun was still in bed, but there was a lightness in the sky over the Hundred Acre Wood which seemed to show that it was waking up and would soon be kicking off the clothes. In the half-light the Pine Trees looked cold and lonely, and the Very Deep Pit seemed deeper than it was, and Pooh’s jar of honey at the bottom was something mysterious, a shape and no more. But as he got nearer to it his nose told him that it was indeed honey, and his tongue came out and began to polish up his mouth, ready for it.

‘Bother!’ said Pooh, as he got his nose inside the jar. ‘A Heffalump has been eating it!’ And then he thought a little and said, ‘Oh, no, I did. I forgot.’

Indeed, he had eaten most of it. But there was a little left at the very bottom of the jar, and he pushed his head right in, and began to lick. …

By and by Piglet woke up. As soon as he woke he said to himself, ‘Oh!’ Then he said bravely, ‘Yes,’ and then, still more bravely, ‘Quite so.’ But he didn’t feel very brave, for the word which was really jiggeting about in his brain was ‘Heffalumps.’

What was a Heffalump like?

Was it Fierce?

Did it come when you whistled? And how did it come?

Was it Fond of Pigs at all?

If it was Fond of Pigs, did it make any difference what sort of Pig?

Supposing it was Fierce with Pigs, would it make any difference if the Pig had a grandfather called TRESPASSERS WILLIAM?

He didn’t know the answer to any of these questions … and he was going to see his first Heffalump in about an hour from now!

Of course Pooh would be with him, and it was much more Friendly with two. But suppose Heffalumps were Very Fierce with Pigs and Bears? Wouldn’t it be better to pretend that he had a headache, and couldn’t go up to the Six Pine Trees this morning? But then suppose that it was a very fine day, and there was no Heffalump in the trap, here he would be, in bed all the morning, simply wasting his time for nothing. What should he do?

And then he had a Clever Idea. He would go up very quietly to the Six Pine Trees now, peep very cautiously into the Trap, and see if there was a Heffalump there. And if there was, he would go back to bed, and if there wasn’t, he wouldn’t.

So off he went. At first he thought that there wouldn’t be a Heffalump in the Trap, and then he thought that there would, and as he got nearer he was sure that there would, because he could hear it heffalumping about like anything.

‘Oh, dear, oh, dear, oh, dear!’ said Piglet to himself. And he wanted to run away. But somehow, having got so near, he felt that he must just see what a Heffalump was like. So he crept to the side of the Trap and looked in. …

And all the time Winnie-the-Pooh had been trying to get the honey-jar off his head. The more he shook it, the more tightly it stuck. ‘Bother!’ he said, inside the jar, and ‘Oh, help! ’ and, mostly, ‘Ow!’ And he tried bumping it against things, but as he couldn’t see what he was bumping it against, it didn’t help him; and he tried to climb out of the Trap, but as he could see nothing but jar, and not much of that, he couldn’t find his way. So at last he lifted up his head, jar and all, and made a loud, roaring noise of Sadness and Despair … and it was at that moment that Piglet looked down.

‘Help, help!’ cried Piglet, ‘a Heffalump, a Horrible Heffalump!’ and he scampered off as hard as he could, still crying out, ‘Help, help, a Herrible Hoffalump! Hoff, Hoff, a Hellible Horralump! Holl, Holl, a Hoffable Hellerump!’ And he didn’t stop crying and scampering until he got to Christopher Robin’s house.

‘Whatever’s the matter, Piglet?’ said Christopher Robin, who was just getting up.

‘Heff,’ said Piglet, breathing so hard that he could hardly speak, ‘A Heff – a Heff – a Heffalump.’

‘Where?’

‘Up there,’ said Piglet, waving his paw.

‘What did it look like?’

‘Like – like – It had the biggest head you ever saw, Christopher Robin. A great enormous thing, like – like nothing. A huge big – well, like a – I don’t know – like an enormous big nothing. Like a jar.’

‘Well,’ said Christopher Robin, putting on his shoes, ‘I shall go and look at it. Come on.’

Piglet wasn’t afraid if he had Christopher Robin with him, so off they went. …

‘I can hear it, can’t you?’ said Piglet anxiously, as they got near.

‘I can hear something,’ said Christopher Robin.

It was Pooh bumping his head against a tree-root he had found.

‘There!’ said Piglet. ‘Isn’t it awful?’ And he held on tight to Christopher Robin’s hand.

Suddenly Christopher Robin began to laugh … and he laughed … and he laughed … and he laughed. And while he was still laughing – Crash went the Heffalump’s head against the tree-root, Smash went the jar, and out came Pooh’s head again. …

Then Piglet saw what a Foolish Piglet he had been, and he was so ashamed of himself that he ran straight off home and went to bed with a headache. But Christopher Robin and Pooh went home to breakfast together.

‘Oh, Bear!’ said Christopher Robin. ‘How I do love you!’

‘So do I,’ said Pooh.

CHAPTER SIX

in which Eeyore has a birthday and gets two presents

Eeyore, the old grey Donkey, stood by the side of the stream, and looked at himself in the water.

‘Pathetic,’ he said. ‘That’s what it is. Pathetic.’

He turned and walked slowly down the stream for twenty yards, splashed across it, and walked slowly back on the other side. Then he looked at himself in the water again.

‘As I thought,’ he said. ‘No better from this side. But nobody minds. Nobody cares.