“Only dust，” said Uncle Andrew. “Fine， dry dust. Nothing much to look at. Not much to show for a lifetime of toil， you might say. Ah， but when I looked at that dust （I took jolly good care not to touch it） and thought that every grain had once been in another world.I don‘t mean another planet， you know； they’re part of our world and you could get to them if you went far enough.but a really Other World.another Nature.another universe.somewhere you would never reach even if you travelled through the space of this universe for ever and ever.a world that could be reached only by Magic.well！” Here Uncle Andrew rubbed his hands till his knuckles cracked like fireworks.
“I knew，” he went on， “that if only you could get it into the right form， that dust would draw you back to the place it had come from. But the difficulty was to get it into the right form. My earlier experiments were all failures. I tried them on guinea.pigs. Some of them only died. Some exploded like little bombs.”
“It was a jolly cruel thing to do，” said Digory， who had once had a guinea.pig of his own.
