这是一个发生在很久远的过去的故事。［故事发生在很久以前，当你爷爷还是个孩子的时候］。这个故事很重要，因为它解释了我们这个世界所有的事物是怎么来的和通往何处，以及Narnia这片大陆一开始的情况。［我们自己的世界和纳尼亚王国之间所有的事情最初是如何发生的］。
当时夏洛克·福尔摩斯还仍住在贝克街，Bastables［巴斯塔布尔］一家还住在Lewisham［路易斯罕大道］寻找着宝物。在当时，如果你是一个男孩，你就要［不得不］每天穿戴呆板的伊顿衣领，［硬邦邦的伊顿领子］，学校也总是比现在更流氓。［学校通常比现在糟糕］。但是伙食比现在更好。出于善意，我不会告诉你伙食有多便宜和美味，［要说糖果，我不想告诉多么便宜和好吃］，因为那只会让你徒劳流口水。那些日子在伦敦住着一个女孩叫做波丽·普卢默。
她住在一条全是房子的长街上。［她家的房子和其他房子连成长长的一排］。一天早上她出门到了［在］后花园，看见当一个男孩从花园的下一个门口攀登过来，［隔壁花园爬上墙头］将他的脸露出墙来。波丽十分惊讶因为直到现在那边房子里［除了老单身汉凯特利先生和老处女凯特利小姐这对兄妹外］，还没有出现任何一个孩子，只有一对兄妹，Ketterley先生和Ketterley女士，一个老单身汉和老单身妇女住在一起。所以波丽充满了好奇心［地］在观察男孩。那陌生的男孩［的脸］十分肮脏。如果他第一次将［就算］他的双手［先］在土里摩擦，之后他大哭，［再］用手擦干了脸，那就［也］不能更脏了。事实上，这里距离他正在做事的地方十分近。［这差不多就是他刚刚干的事］。
“你好。”波丽说。
“你好。”男孩说，“你叫什么名字？”
“波丽。”波丽回答，“你呢？”
“迪格雷。”男孩说。
“我说，你的名字好搞笑！”波丽说。
“它没有波丽这个名字的一半搞笑。［波丽好笑得多呢］。”迪格雷反驳。
“你的名字的确好笑。”波丽说。
“不好笑。”迪格雷说。
“不管怎么说，我的脸是干净的。”波丽说，“而你需要去洗干净你的脸。特别是在——”她停顿了一下，她本来是打算说“在你哭过之后”，但是她认为那样不礼貌。
“好吧，我一会就去洗。［对极了，我刚哭过］。”迪戈奥大声地说，像一个不在乎没人知道他哭过的悲伤的男孩，［一个悲伤过度的男孩不在乎谁知道他哭过一样］。“你也是［你也会哭的］”，他继续说，“你将会一辈子生活在这个城市，拥有小的东西，在花园的底端有一条河流，然后带来像这样存在在令人恶心的洞穴里的东西。［要是你原来住在乡下，有匹小马，花园尽头还有条小河，然后却被弄到这么糟糕透顶的窝里来住的话］。”
“伦敦不是一个山洞。［伦敦不是一个糟糕透顶的窝］。”波丽愤慨地说。但是男孩太伤心了［激动了］，以至于没有听进她的话，他继续说，“如果你的爸爸总是住在印度——你不得不来到这里和你疯癫（谁会喜欢那样？）的姨妈和［疯癫的］舅舅住——并且如果他们的理由是他们可以［正在］照看你的妈妈——而如果你的妈妈生病了，即将、即将死去。”然后他的脸上出现一种当你努力让你的眼泪回去［忍着不哭］的扭曲的表情。
“我很抱歉，我不知道。”波丽恭顺地说。接着，因为她不知道说什么，同时又想转移迪格雷的思绪，让他想些高兴的事，她就问：
“凯特利先生真的疯了吗？”
“好吧，他也许［要么］疯了。”迪格雷回答，“或者他有一些其他的秘密。他在顶楼房间有一项研究，［一间书房］，莱蒂姨母告诉我绝对不能上去看。好吧，那里一开始就看着可疑。［这让人觉得可疑］。还有，［他从不和莱蒂姨母交谈］，［而每当］他随时都会在吃饭的时候试图和我说一些事情——他从未试图和莱蒂伯母说的——莱蒂姨母总是叫他闭嘴。她会说，‘安德鲁，不要担心［别去烦］这个男孩’，或者‘我相信迪格雷不想听到那些事’，还有就是‘迪格雷，现在，你不想出去到花园里玩耍吗？’。”
“你叔叔想对你说什么事情？”
“我不知道。他从来没有足够的时间和我待一起。［不多说］。但是那也足够多了。一天晚上，实际上是昨晚，当我走上阁楼楼梯回到房间的床上时（我也没有太关注他们的脚步声），［我经过阁楼楼梯下面去睡觉时（我不喜欢从那儿走过），我确定我听到了一声尖叫。”
原文：
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?"
"Digory," said the boy.
"I say, what a funny name!" said Polly.
"It isn't half so funny as Polly," said Digory.
"Yes it is," said Polly.
"No, it isn't," said Digory.
"At any rate I do wash my face," said Polly, "Which is what you need to do; especially after--"and then she stopped. She had been going to say "After you've been blubbing," but she thought that wouldn't be polite.
"Alright, I have then," said Digory in a much louder voice, like a boy who was so miserable that he didn't care who knew he had been crying. "And so would you," he went on, "if you'd lived all your life in the country and had a pony, and a river at the bottom of the garden, and then been brought to live in a beastly Hole like this."
"London isn't a Hole," said Polly indignantly. But the boy was too wound up to take any notice of her, and he went on "And if your father was away in India - and you had to come and live with an Aunt and an Uncle who's mad (who would like that?) - and if the reason was that they were looking after your Mother - and if your Mother was ill and was goingto - going to - die." Then his face went the wrong sort of shape as it does if you're trying to keep back your tears.
"I didn't know. I'm sorry," said Polly humbly. And then, because she hardly knew what to say, and also to turn Digory's mind to cheerful subjects, she asked:
"Is Mr Ketterley really mad?"
"Well either he's mad," said Digory, "or there's some other mystery. He has a study on the top floor and Aunt Letty says I must never go up there. Well, that looks fishy to begin with. And then there's another thing. Whenever he tries to say anything to me at meal times - he never even tries to talk to her - she always shuts him up. She says, "Don't worry the boy, Andrew" or "I'm sure Digory doesn't want to hear about that" or else "Now, Digory, wouldn't you like to go out and play in the garden?"
"What sort of things does he try to say?"
"I don't know. He never gets far enough. But there's more than that. One night - it was last night in fact - as I was going past the foot of the attic-stairs on my way to bed(and I don't much care for going past them either) I'm sure I heard a yell."
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