Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      Copyright

      The Magician’s Nephew

      Chapter One - The Wrong Door

      Chapter Two - Digory and his Uncle

      Chapter Three - The Wood between the Worlds

      Chapter Four - The Bell and the Hammer

      Chapter Five - The Deplorable Word

      Chapter Six - The Beginning of Uncle Andrew’s Troubles

      Chapter Seven - What Happened at the Front Door

      Chapter Eight - The Fight at the Lamp-post

      Chapter Nine - The Founding of Narnia

      Chapter Ten - The First Joke and Other Matters

      Chapter Eleven - Digory and his Uncle are Both in Trouble

      Chapter Twelve - Strawberry’s Adventure

      Chapter Thirteen - An Unexpected Meeting

      Chapter Fourteen - The Planting of the Tree

      Chapter Fifteen - The End of this Story and the Beginning of all the Others

       The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

       Keep Reading

      About the Author

      Also by Author

       About the Publisher

      THE MAGICIAN’S NEPHEW

       The secret passage to the house next door leads to a brand new world.

      NARNIA . . . where horses sometimes grow wings and Talking Beasts are called to life ... a new world full of magic, where the adventures begin.

      Digory and Polly meet and become friends one cold, wet summer in London. Their lives burst into adventure when Uncle Andrew, who thinks he is a magician, sends them hurtling to . . . somewhere else. They find their way to a new land – Narnia! But when they awaken an evil sorceress, Polly and Digory are sent on a quest to stop her before she destroys the world they’ve just discovered!

      Chapter One

       The Wrong Door

      This is a story about something that happened long ago when your grandfather was a child. It is a very important story because it shows how all the comings and goings between our own world and the land of Narnia first began.

      In those days Mr Sherlock Holmes was still living in Baker Street and the Bastables were looking for treasure in the Lewisham Road. In those days, if you were a boy you had to wear a stiff Eton collar every day, and schools were usually nastier than now. But meals were nicer; and as for sweets, I won’t tell you how cheap and good they were, because it would only make your mouth water in vain. And in those days there lived in London a girl called Polly Plummer.

      She lived in one of a long row of houses which were all joined together. One morning she was out in the back garden when a boy scrambled up from the garden next door and put his face over the wall. Polly was very surprised because up till now there had never been any children in that house, but only Mr Ketterley and Miss Ketterley, a brother and sister, old bachelor and old maid, living together. So she looked up, full of curiosity. The face of the strange boy was very grubby. It could hardly have been grubbier if he had first rubbed his hands in the earth, and then had a good cry, and then dried his face with his hands. As a matter of fact, this was very nearly what he had been doing.

      “Hullo,” said Polly.

      “Hullo,” said the boy. “What’s your name?”

      “Polly,” said Polly. “What’s yours?”