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The War of the WorldsH. G. WellsThis eBook was designed and published by Planet PDF. For morefree eBooks visit our Web site at http://www.planetpdf.com/. To hearabout our latest releases subscribe to the Planet PDF Newsletter.

The War of the WorldsBut who shall dwell in these worlds if they beinhabited? . . . Are we or they Lords of the World? . . .And how are all things made for man?—KEPLER (quoted in The Anatomy of Melancholy)2 of 293

eBook brought to you byCreate, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version.The War of the WorldsBOOK ONETHE COMING OF THEMARTIANS3 of 293

The War of the WorldsCHAPTER ONETHE EVE OF THE WARNo one would have believed in the last years of thenineteenth century that this world was being watchedkeenly and closely by intelligences greater than man’s andyet as mortal as his own; that as men busied themselvesabout their various concerns they were scrutinised andstudied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with amicroscope might scrutinise the transient creatures thatswarm and multiply in a drop of water. With infinitecomplacency men went to and fro over this globe abouttheir little affairs, serene in their assurance of their empireover matter. It is possible that the infusoria under themicroscope do the same. No one gave a thought to theolder worlds of space as sources of human danger, orthought of them only to dismiss the idea of life upon themas impossible or improbable. It is curious to recall someof the mental habits of those departed days. At mostterrestrial men fancied there might be other men uponMars, perhaps inferior to themselves and ready towelcome a missionary enterprise. Yet across the gulf ofspace, minds that are to our minds as ours are to those of4 of 293

The War of the Worldsthe beasts that perish, intellects vast and cool andunsympathetic, regarded this earth with envious eyes, andslowly and surely drew their plans against us. And earlyin the twentieth century came the great disillusionment.The planet Mars, I scarcely need remind the reader,revolves about the sun at a mean distance of 140,000,000miles, and the light and heat it receives from the sun isbarely half of that received by this world. It must be, if thenebular hypothesis has any truth, older than our world;and long before this earth ceased to be molten, life uponits surface must have begun its course. The fact that it isscarcely one seventh of the volume of the earth must haveaccelerated its cooling to the temperature at which lifecould begin. It has air and water and all that is necessaryfor the support of animated existence.Yet so vain is man, and so blinded by his vanity, thatno writer, up to the very end of the nineteenth century, expressed any idea that intelligent life might have developedthere far, or indeed at all, beyond its earthly level. Norwas it generally understood that since Mars is older thanour earth, with scarcely a quarter of the superficial areaand remoter from the sun, it necessarily follows that it isnot only more distant from time’s beginning but nearer itsend.5 of 293

The War of the WorldsThe secular cooling that must someday overtake ourplanet has already gone far indeed with our neighbour. Itsphysical condition is still largely a mystery, but we knownow that even in its equatorial region the middaytemperature barely approaches that of our coldest winter.Its air is much more attenuated than ours, its oceans haveshrunk until they cover but a third of its surface, and as itsslow seasons change huge snowcaps gather and meltabout either pole and periodically inundate its temperatezones. That last stage of exhaustion, which to us is stillincredibly remote, has become a present-day problem forthe inhabitants of Mars. The immediate pressure ofnecessity has brightened their intellects, enlarged theirpowers, and hardened their hearts. And looking acrossspace with instruments, and intelligences such as we havescarcely dreamed of, they see, at its nearest distance only35,000,000 of miles sunward of them, a morning star ofhope, our own warmer planet, green with vegetation andgrey with water, with a cloudy atmosphere eloquent offertility, with glimpses through its drifting cloud wisps ofbroad stretches of populous country and narrow, navycrowded seas.And we men, the creatures who inhabit this earth, mustbe to them at least as alien and lowly as are the monkeys6 of 293

The War of the Worldsand lemurs to us. The intellectual side of man alreadyadmits that life is an incessant struggle for existence, andit would seem that this too is the belief of the minds uponMars. Their world is far gone in its cooling and this worldis still crowded with life, but crowded only with whatthey regard as inferior animals. To carry warfare sunwardis, indeed, their only escape from the destruction that,generation after generation, creeps upon them.And before we judge of them too harshly we mustremember what ruthless and utter destruction our ownspecies has wrought, not only upon animals, such as thevanished bison and the dodo, but upon its inferior races.The Tasmanians, in spite of their human likeness, wereentirely swept out of existence in a war of exterminationwaged by European immigrants, in the space of fiftyyears. Are we such apostles of mercy as to complain if theMartians warred in the same spirit?The Martians seem to have calculated their descentwith amazing subtlety—their mathematical learning isevidently far in excess of ours—and to have carried outtheir preparations with a well-nigh perfect unanimity. Hadour instruments permitted it, we might have seen thegathering trouble far back in the nineteenth century. Menlike Schiaparelli watched the red planet—it is odd, by7 of 293

The War of the Worldsthe-bye, that for count- less centuries Mars has been thestar of war—but failed to interpret the fluctuatingappearances of the markings they mapped so well. Allthat time the Martians must have been getting ready.During the opposition of 1894 a great light was seenon the illuminated part of the disk, first at the LickObservatory, then by Perrotin of Nice, and then by otherobservers. English readers heard of it first in the issue ofNATURE dated August 2. I am inclined to think that thisblaze may have been the casting of the huge gun, in thevast pit sunk into their planet, from which their shots werefired at us. Peculiar markings, as yet unexplained, wereseen near the site of that outbreak during the next twooppositions.The storm burst upon us six years ago now. As Marsapproached opposition, Lavelle of Java set the wires ofthe astronomical exchange palpitating with the amazingintelligence of a huge outbreak of incandescent gas uponthe planet. It had occurred towards midnight of thetwelfth; and the spectroscope, to which he had at onceresorted, indicated a mass of flaming gas, chieflyhydrogen, moving with an enormous velocity towards thisearth. This jet of fire had become invisible about a quarterpast twelve. He compared it to a colossal puff of flame8 of 293

The War of the Worldssuddenly and violently squirted out of the planet, ‘asflaming gases rushed out of a gun.’A singularly appropriate phrase it proved. Yet the nextday there was nothing of this in the papers except a littlenote in the DAILY TELEGRAPH, and the world went inignorance of one of the gravest dangers that everthreatened the human race. I might not have heard of theeruption at all had I not met Ogilvy, the well-knownastronomer, at Ottershaw. He was immensely excited atthe news, and in the excess of his feelings invited me upto take a turn with him that night in a scrutiny of the redplanet.In spite of all that has happened since, I still rememberthat vigil very distinctly: the black and silent observatory,the shadowed lantern throwing a feeble glow upon thefloor in the corner, the steady ticking of the clockwork ofthe telescope, the little slit in the roof—an oblongprofundity with the stardust streaked across it. Ogilvymoved about, invisible but audible. Looking through thetelescope, one saw a circle of deep blue and the littleround planet swimming in the field. It seemed such a littlething, so bright and small and still, faintly marked withtransverse stripes, and slightly flattened from the perfectround. But so little it was, so silvery warm—a pin’s-head9 of 293

The War of the Worldsof light! It was as if it quivered, but really this was thetelescope vibrating with the activity of the clockwork thatkept the planet in view.As I watched, the planet seemed to grow larger andsmaller and to advance and recede, but that was simplythat my eye was tired. Forty millions of miles it was fromus—more than forty millions of miles of void. Few peoplerealise the immensity of vacancy in which the dust of thematerial universe swims.Near it in the field, I remember, were three faint pointsof light, three telescopic stars infinitely remote, and allaround it was the unfathomable darkness of empty space.You know how that blackness looks on a frosty starlightnight. In a telescope it seems far profounder. Andinvisible to me because it was so remote and small, flyingswiftly and steadily towards me across that incredibledistance, drawing nearer every minute by so manythousands of miles, came the Thing they were sending us,the Thing that was to bring so much struggle and calamityand death to the earth. I never dreamed of it then as Iwatched; no one on earth dreamed of that unerringmissile.That night, too, there was another jetting out of gasfrom the distant planet. I saw it. A reddish flash at the10 of 293

The War of the Worldsedge, the slightest projection of the outline just as thechronometer struck midnight; and at that I told Ogilvyand he took my place. The night was warm and I wasthirsty, and I went stretching my legs clumsily and feelingmy way in the darkness, to the little table where thesiphon stood, while Ogilvy exclaimed at the streamer ofgas that came out towards us.That night another invisible missile started on its wayto the earth from Mars, just a second or so under twentyfour hours after the first one. I remember how I sat on thetable there in the blackness, with patches of green andcrimson swimming before my eyes. I wished I had a lightto smoke by, little suspecting the meaning of the minutegleam I had seen and all that it would presently bring me.Ogilvy watched till one, and then gave it up; and we litthe lantern and walked over to his house. Down below inthe darkness were Ottershaw and Chertsey and all theirhundreds of people, sleeping in peace.He was full of speculation that night about thecondition of Mars, and scoffed at the vulgar idea of itshaving in- habitants who were signalling us. His idea wasthat meteorites might be falling in a heavy shower uponthe planet, or that a huge volcanic explosion was inprogress. He pointed out to me how unlikely it was that11 of 293

The War of the Worldsorganic evolution had taken the same direction in the twoadjacent planets.‘The chances against anything manlike on Mars are amillion to one,’ he said.Hundreds of observers saw the flame that night and thenight after about midnight, and again the night after; andso for ten nights, a flame each night. Why the shotsceased after the tenth no one on earth has attempted toexplain. It may be the gases of the firing caused theMartians in- convenience. Dense clouds of smoke or dust,visible through a powerful telescope on earth as littlegrey, fluctuating patches, spread through the clearness ofthe planet’s atmosphere and obscured its more familiarfeatures.Even the daily papers woke up to the disturbances atlast, and popular notes appeared here, there, andeverywhere concerning the volcanoes upon Mars. Theseriocomic periodical PUNCH, I remember, made ahappy use of it in the political cartoon. And, allunsuspected, those missiles the Martians had fired at usdrew earthward, rushing now at a pace of many miles asecond through the empty gulf of space, hour by hour andday by day, nearer and nearer. It seems to me now almostincredibly wonderful that, with that swift fate hanging12 of 293

The War of the Worldsover us, men could go about their petty concerns as theydid. I remember how jubilant Markham was at securing anew photograph of the planet for the illustrated paper heedited in those days. People in these latter times scarcelyrealise the abundance and enterprise of our nineteenthcentury papers. For my own part, I was much occupied inlearning to ride the bicycle, and busy upon a series ofpapers discussing the probable developments of moralideas as civilisation progressed.One night (the first missile then could scarcely havebeen 10,000,000 miles away) I went for a walk with mywife. It was starlight and I explained the Signs of theZodiac to her, and pointed out Mars, a bright dot of lightcreeping zenithward, towards which so many telescopeswere pointed. It was a warm night. Coming home, a partyof excursionists from Chertsey or Isleworth passed ussinging and playing music. There were lights in the upperwindows of the houses as the people went to bed. Fromthe railway station in the distance came the sound ofshunting trains, ringing and rumbling, softened almostinto melody by the distance. My wife pointed out to methe brightness of the red, green, and yellow signal lightshanging in a framework against the sky. It seemed so safeand tranquil.13 of 293

The War of the WorldsCHAPTER TWOTHE FALLING STARThen came the night of the first falling star. It was seenearly in the morning, rushing over Winchester eastward, aline of flame high in the atmosphere. Hundreds must haveseen it, and taken it for an ordinary falling star. Albindescribed it as leaving a greenish streak behind it thatglowed for some seconds. Denning, our greatest authorityon meteor- ites, stated that the height of its firstappearance was about ninety or one hundred miles. Itseemed to him that it fell to earth about one hundred mileseast of him.I was at home at that hour and writing in my study; andalthough my French windows face towards Ottershaw andthe blind was up (for I loved in those days to look up atthe night sky), I saw nothing of it. Yet this strangest of allthings that ever came to earth from outer space must havefallen while I was sitting there, visible to me had I onlylooked up as it passed. Some of those who saw its flightsay it travelled with a hissing sound. I myself heardnothing of that. Many people in Berkshire, Surrey, and14 of 293

eBook brought to you byCreate, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version.The War of the WorldsMiddlesex must have seen the fall of it, and, at most, havethought that another meteorite had descended. No oneseems to have troubled to look for the fallen mass thatnight.But very early in the morning poor Ogilvy, who hadseen the shooting star and who was persuaded that ameteorite lay somewhere on the common betweenHorsell, Ottershaw, and Woking, rose early with the ideaof finding it. Find it he did, soon after dawn, and not farfrom the sand pits. An enormous hole had been made bythe impact of the projectile, and the sand and gravel hadbeen flung violently in every direction over the heath,forming heaps visible a mile and a half away. The heatherwas on fire eastward, and a thin blue smoke rose againstthe dawn.The Thing itself lay almost entirely buried in sand,amidst the scattered splinters of a fir tree it had shiveredto fragments in its descent. The uncovered part had theappearance of a huge cylinder, caked over and its outlinesoftened by a thick scaly dun-coloured incrustation. It hada diameter of about thirty yards. He approached the mass,surprised at the size and more so at the shape, since mostmeteorites are rounded more or less completely. It was,however, still so hot from its flight through the air as to15 of 293

The War of the Worldsforbid his near approach. A stirring noise within itscylinder he ascribed to the unequal cooling of its surface;for at that time it had not occurred to him that it might behollow.He remained standing at the edge of the pit that theThing had made for itself, staring at its strangeappearance, astonished chiefly at its unusual shape andcolour, and dimly perceiving even then some evidence ofdesign in its arrival. The early morning was wonderfullystill, and the sun, just clearing the pine trees towardsWeybridge, was already warm. He did not rememberhearing any birds that morning, there was certainly nobreeze stirring, and the only sounds were the faintmovements from within the cindery cylinder. He was allalone on the common.Then suddenly he noticed with a start that some of thegrey clinker, the ashy incrustation that covered themeteorite, was falling off the circular edge of the end. Itwas dropping off in flakes and raining down upon thesand. A large piece suddenly came off and fell with asharp noise that brought his heart into his mouth.For a minute he scarcely realised what this meant, and,although the heat was excessive, he clambered down intothe pit close to the bulk to see the Thing more clearly. He16 of 293

The War of the Worldsfancied even then that the cooling of the body mightaccount for this, but what disturbed that idea was the factthat the ash was falling only from the end of the cylinder.And then he perceived that, very slowly, the circulartop of the cylinder was rotating on its body. It was such agradual movement that he discovered it only throughnoticing that a black mark that had been near him fiveminutes ago was now at the other side of thecircumference. Even then he scarcely understood whatthis indicated, until he heard a muffled grating sound andsaw the black mark jerk forward an inch or so. Then thething came upon him in a flash. The cylinder wasartificial—hollow—with an end that screwed out!Something within the cylinder was unscrewing the top!‘Good heavens!’ said Ogilvy. ‘There’s a man in it—men in it! Half roasted to death! Trying to escape!’At once, with a quick mental leap, he linked the Thingwith the flash upon Mars.The thought of the confined creature was so dreadful tohim that he forgot the heat and went forward to thecylinder to help turn. But luckily the dull radiationarrested him before he could burn his hands on the stillglowing metal. At that he stood irresolute for a moment,then turned, scrambled out of the pit, and set off running17 of 293

The War of the Worldswildly into Woking. The time then must have beensomewhere about six o’clock. He met a waggoner andtried to make him understand, but the tale he told and hisappearance were so wild—his hat had fallen off in thepit—that the man simply drove on. He was equallyunsuccessful with the potman who was just unlocking thedoors of the public-house by Horsell Bridge. The fellowthought he was a lunatic at large and made anunsuccessful attempt to shut him into the taproom. Thatsobered him a little; and when he saw Henderson, theLondon journalist, in his garden, he called over thepalings and made himself understood.‘Henderson,’ he called, ‘you saw that shooting star lastnight?’‘Well?’ said Henderson.‘It’s out on Horsell Common now.’‘Good Lord!’ said Henderson. ‘Fallen meteorite!That’s good.’‘But it’s something more than a meteorite. It’s acylinder —an artificial cylinder, man! And there’ssomething inside.’Henderson stood up with his spade in his hand.‘What’s that?’ he said. He was deaf in one ear.18 of 293

The War of the WorldsOgilvy told him all that he had seen. Henderson was aminute or so taking it in. Then he dropped his spade,snatched up his jacket, and came out into the road. Thetwo men hurried back at once to the common, and foundthe cylinder still lying in the same position. But now thesounds inside had ceased, and a thin circle of bright metalshowed between the top and the body of the cylinder. Airwas either entering or escaping at the rim with a thin,sizzling sound.They listened, rapped on the scaly burnt metal with astick, and, meeting with no response, they both concludedthe man or men inside must be insensible or dead.Of course the two were quite unable to do anything.They shouted consolation and promises, and went offback to the town again to get help. One can imagine them,covered with sand, excited and disordered, running up thelittle street in the bright sunlight just as the shop folkswere taking down their shutters and people were openingtheir bedroom windows. Henderson went into the railwaystation at once, in order to telegraph the news to London.The newspaper articles had prepared men’s minds for thereception of the idea.By eight o’clock a number of boys and unemployedmen had already started for the common to see the ‘dead19 of 293

The War of the Worldsmen from Mars.’ That was the form the story took. Iheard of it first from my newspaper boy about a quarter tonine when I went out to get my DAILY CHRONICLE. Iwas naturally startled, and lost no time in going out andacross the Ottershaw bridge to the sand pits.20 of 293

The War of the WorldsCHAPTER THREEON HORSELL COMMONI found a little crowd of perhaps twenty peoplesurrounding the huge hole in which the cylinder lay. Ihave already described the appearance of that colossalbulk, embedded in the ground. The turf and gravel aboutit seemed charred as if by a sudden explosion. No doubtits impact had caused a flash of fire. Henderson andOgilvy were not there. I think they perceived that nothingwas to be done for the present, and had gone away tobreakfast at Henderson’s house.There were four or five boys sitting on the edge of thePit, with their feet dangling, and amusing themselves—until I stopped them—by throwing stones at the giantmass. After I had spoken to them about it, they beganplaying at ‘touch’ in and out of the group of bystanders.Among these were a couple of cyclists, a jobbinggardener I employed sometimes, a girl carrying a baby,Gregg the butcher and his little boy, and two or threeloafers and golf caddies who were accustomed to hangabout the railway station. There was very little talking.21 of 293

The War of the WorldsFew of the common people in England had anything butthe vaguest astronomical ideas in those days. Most ofthem were staring quietly at the big tablelike end of thecylinder, which was still as Ogilvy and Henderson hadleft it. I fancy the popular expectation of a heap of charredcorpses was disappointed at this inanimate bulk. Somewent away while I was there, and other people came. Iclambered into the pit and fancied I heard a faintmovement under my feet. The top had certainly ceased torotate.It was only when I got thus close to it that thestrangeness of this object was at all evident to me. At thefirst glance it was really no more exciting than anoverturned carriage or a tree blown across the road. Notso much so, indeed. It looked like a rusty gas float. Itrequired a certain amount of scientific education toperceive that the grey scale of the Thing was no commonoxide, that the yellowish-white metal that gleamed in thecrack between the lid and the cylinder had an unfamiliarhue. ‘Extra-terrestrial’ had no meaning for most of theonlookers.At that time it was quite clear in my own mind that theThing had come from the planet Mars, but I judged itimprobable that it contained any living creature. I thought22 of 293

The War of the Worldsthe unscrewing might be automatic. In spite of Ogilvy, Istill believed that there were men in Mars. My mind ranfancifully on the possibilities of its containing manuscript,on the difficulties in translation that might arise, whetherwe should find coins and models in it, and so forth. Yet itwas a little too large for assurance on this idea. I felt animpatience to see it opened. About eleven, as nothingseemed happening, I walked back, full of such thought, tomy home in Maybury. But I found it difficult to get towork upon my abstract investigations.In the afternoon the appearance of the common hadaltered very much. The early editions of the eveningpapers had startled London with enormous headlines:‘A MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM MARS.’‘REMARKABLE STORY FROM WOKING,’and so forth. In addition, Ogilvy’s wire to theAstronomical Exchange had roused every observatory inthe three kingdoms.There were half a dozen flies or more from the Wokingstation standing in the road by the sand pits, a basketchaise from Chobham, and a rather lordly carriage.Besides that, there was quite a heap of bicycles. Inaddition, a large number of people must have walked, inspite of the heat of the day, from Woking and Chertsey,23 of 293

The War of the Worldsso that there was altogether quite a considerable crowd—one or two gaily dressed ladies among the others. It wasglaringly hot, not a cloud in the sky nor a breath of wind,and the only shadow was that of the few scattered pinetrees. The burning heather had been extinguished, but thelevel ground towards Ottershaw was blackened as far asone could see, and still giving off vertical streamers ofsmoke. An enterprising sweet-stuff dealer in the ChobhamRoad had sent up his son with a barrow-load of greenapples and ginger beer.Going to the edge of the pit, I found it occupied by agroup of about half a dozen men—Henderson, Ogilvy,and a tall, fair-haired man that I afterwards learned wasStent, the Astronomer Royal, with several workmenwielding spades and pickaxes. Stent was giving directionsin a clear, high- pitched voice. He was standing on thecylinder, which was now evidently much cooler; his facewas crimson and streaming with perspiration, andsomething seemed to have irritated him.A large portion of the cylinder had been uncovered,though its lower end was still embedded. As soon asOgilvy saw me among the staring crowd on the edge ofthe pit he called to me to come down, and asked me if I24 of 293

The War of the Worldswould mind going over to see Lord Hilton, the lord of themanor.The growing crowd, he said, was becoming a seriousimpediment to their excavations, especially the boys.They wanted a light railing put up, and help to keep thepeople back. He told me that a faint stirring wasoccasionally still audible within the case, but that theworkmen had failed to unscrew the top, as it afforded nogrip to them. The case appeared to be enormously thick,and it was possible that the faint sounds we heardrepresented a noisy tumult in the interior.I was very glad to do as he asked, and so become oneof the privileged spectators within the contemplatedenclosure. I failed to find Lord Hilton at his house, but Iwas told he was expected from London by the six o’clocktrain from Waterloo; and as it was then about a quarterpast five, I went home, had some tea, and walked up tothe station to waylay him.25 of 293

The War of the WorldsCHAPTER FOURTHE CYLINDER OPENSWhen I returned to the common the sun was setting.Scattered groups were hurrying from the direction ofWoking, and one or two persons were returning. Thecrowd about the pit had increased, and stood out blackagainst the lemon yellow of the sky—a couple of hundredpeople, perhaps. There were raised voices, and some sortof struggle appeared to be going on about the pit. Strangeimaginings passed through my mind. As I drew nearer Iheard Stent’s voice:‘Keep back! Keep back!’A boy came running towards me.‘It’s a-movin’,’ he said to me as he passed; ‘a-screwin’and a-screwin’ out. I don’t like it. I’m a-goin’ ‘ome, Iam.’I went on to the crowd. There were really, I shouldthink, two or three hundred people elbowing and jostlingone an- other, the one or two ladies there being by nomeans the least active.‘He’s fallen in the pit!’ cried some one.26 of 293

eBook brought to you byCreate, view, and edit PDF. Download the free trial version.The War of the Worlds‘Keep back!’ said several.The crowd swayed a little, and I elbowed my waythrough. Every one seemed greatly excited. I heard apeculiar humming sound from the pit.‘I say!’ said Ogilvy; ‘help keep these idiots back. Wedon’t know what’s in the confounded thing, you know!’I saw a young man, a shop assistant in Woking Ibelieve he was, standing on the cylinder and trying toscramble out of the hole again. The crowd had pushedhim in.The end of the cylinder was being screwed out fromwithin. Nearly two feet of shining screw projected.Somebody blundered against me, and I narrowly missedbeing pitched onto the top of the screw. I turned, and as Idid so the screw must have come out, for the lid of thecylinder fell upon the gravel with a ringing concussion. Istuck my elbow into the person behind me, and turned myhead towards the Thing again. For a moment that circularcavity seemed perfectly black. I had the sunset in myeyes.I think everyone expected to see a man emerge—possibly something a little unlike us terrestrial men, but inall essentials a man. I know I did. But, looking, Ipresently saw some- thing stirring within the shadow:27 of 293

The War of the Worldsgreyish billowy movements, one above another, and thentwo luminous disks—like eyes. Then somethingresembling a little grey snake, about the thickness of awalking stick, coiled up out of the writhing middle, andwriggled in the air towards me—and then another.A sudden chill came over me. There was a loud shriekfrom a woman behind. I half turned, keeping my eyesfixed upon the cylinder still, from which other tentacleswere now projecting, and began pushing my way backfrom the edge of the pit. I saw astonishment giving placeto horror on the faces of the people about me. I heardinarticulate exclamations on all sides. There was a generalmovement backwards. I saw the shopman struggling stillon the edge of the pit. I found myself alone, and saw thepeople on the other side of the pit running off, Stentamong them. I looked again at the cylinder, andungovernable terror gripped me. I stood petrified andstaring.A big greyish rounded bulk, the size, perhaps, of abear, was rising slowly and painfully out of the cylinder.As it bulged up and caught the light, it glistened like wetleather.Two large dark-coloured eyes were regarding mesteadfastly

NATURE dated August 2. I am inclined to think that this blaze may have been the casting of the huge gun, in the vast pit sunk into their planet, from which their shots were fired at us. Peculiar markings, as yet unexplained, were seen near the site of that outbreak during the next two opposi

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