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The War of the Worlds
by H(erbert) G(eorge) Wells

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Then came the night of the first falling star. It was seen

early in the morning, rushing over Winchester eastward, a

line of flame high in the atmosphere. Hundreds must have

seen it, and taken it for an ordinary falling star. Albin de-

scribed it as leaving a greenish streak behind it that glowed

for some seconds. Denning, our greatest authority on meteor-

ites, stated that the height of its first appearance was about

ninety or one hundred miles. It seemed to him that it fell

to earth about one hundred miles east of him.

I was at home at that hour and writing in my study; and

although my French windows face towards Ottershaw and

the blind was up (for I loved in those days to look up at

the night sky), I saw nothing of it. Yet this strangest of all

things that ever came to earth from outer space must have

fallen while I was sitting there, visible to me had I only

looked up as it passed. Some of those who saw its flight say

it travelled with a hissing sound. I myself heard nothing

of that. Many people in Berkshire, Surrey, and Middlesex

must have seen the fall of it, and, at most, have thought

that another meteorite had descended. No one seems to have

troubled to look for the fallen mass that night.

But very early in the morning poor Ogilvy, who had seen

the shooting star and who was persuaded that a meteorite lay

somewhere on the common between Horsell, Ottershaw, and

Woking, rose early with the idea of finding it. Find it he did,

soon after dawn, and not far from the sand pits. An enormous

hole had been made by the impact of the projectile, and the

sand and gravel had been flung violently in every direction

over the heath, forming heaps visible a mile and a half away.

The heather was on fire eastward, and a thin blue smoke

rose against the dawn.

The Thing itself lay almost entirely buried in sand, amidst

the scattered splinters of a fir tree it had shivered to frag-

ments in its descent. The uncovered part had the appearance

of a huge cylinder, caked over and its outline softened by a

thick scaly dun-coloured incrustation. It had a diameter of

about thirty yards. He approached the mass, surprised at

the size and more so at the shape, since most meteorites

are rounded more or less completely. It was, however, still

so hot from its flight through the air as to forbid his near

approach. A stirring noise within its cylinder he ascribed to

the unequal cooling of its surface; for at that time it had

not occurred to him that it might be hollow.

He remained standing at the edge of the pit that the

Thing had made for itself, staring at its strange appearance,

astonished chiefly at its unusual shape and colour, and

dimly perceiving even then some evidence of design in its

arrival. The early morning was wonderfully still, and the sun,

just clearing the pine trees towards Weybridge, was already

warm. He did not remember hearing any birds that morning,

there was certainly no breeze stirring, and the only sounds

were the faint movements from within the cindery cylinder.

He was all alone on the common.

Then suddenly he noticed with a start that some of the

grey clinker, the ashy incrustation that covered the meteorite,

was falling off the circular edge of the end. It was dropping

off in flakes and raining down upon the sand. A large piece

suddenly came off and fell with a sharp 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 into

the pit close to the bulk to see the Thing more clearly. He

fancied even then that the cooling of the body might account

for this, but what disturbed that idea was the fact that the

ash was falling only from the end of the cylinder.

And then he perceived that, very slowly, the circular top

of the cylinder was rotating on its body. It was such a

gradual movement that he discovered it only through noticing

that a black mark that had been near him five minutes ago

was now at the other side of the circumference. Even then

he scarcely understood what this indicated, until he heard a

muffled grating sound and saw the black mark jerk forward

an inch or so. Then the thing came upon him in a flash. The

cylinder was artificial--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 Thing

with the flash upon Mars.

The thought of the confined creature was so dreadful to

him that he forgot the heat and went forward to the cylinder

to help turn. But luckily the dull radiation arrested him before

he could burn his hands on the still-glowing metal. At that

he stood irresolute for a moment, then turned, scrambled out

of the pit, and set off running wildly into Woking. The time

then must have been somewhere about six o'clock. He met a

waggoner and tried to make him understand, but the tale

he told and his appearance were so wild--his hat had fallen

off in the pit--that the man simply drove on. He was equally

unsuccessful with the potman who was just unlocking the

doors of the public-house by Horsell Bridge. The fellow

thought he was a lunatic at large and made an unsuccessful

attempt to shut him into the taproom. That sobered him a

little; and when he saw Henderson, the London journalist,

in his garden, he called over the palings and made himself


"Henderson," he called, "you saw that shooting star last


"Well?" said Henderson.

"It's out on Horsell Common now."

"Good Lord!" said Henderson. "Fallen meteorite! That's


"But it's something more than a meteorite. It's a cylinder

--an artificial cylinder, man! And there's something inside."

Henderson stood up with his spade in his hand.

"What's that?" he said. He was deaf in one ear.

Ogilvy told him all that he had seen. Henderson was a

minute or so taking it in. Then he dropped his spade, snatched

up his jacket, and came out into the road. The two men

hurried back at once to the common, and found the cylinder

still lying in the same position. But now the sounds inside

had ceased, and a thin circle of bright metal showed between

the top and the body of the cylinder. Air was either entering

or escaping at the rim with a thin, sizzling sound.

They listened, rapped on the scaly burnt metal with a

stick, and, meeting with no response, they both concluded

the 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 off back to the

town again to get help. One can imagine them, covered

with sand, excited and disordered, running up the little

street in the bright sunlight just as the shop folks were

taking down their shutters and people were opening their

bedroom windows. Henderson went into the railway station

at once, in order to telegraph the news to London. The

newspaper articles had prepared men's minds for the re-

ception of the idea.

By eight o'clock a number of boys and unemployed men

had already started for the common to see the "dead men from

Mars." That was the form the story took. I heard of it first

from my newspaper boy about a quarter to nine when I went out

to get my DAILY CHRONICLE. I was naturally startled, and

lost no time in going out and across the Ottershaw bridge

to the sand pits.



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