Reading Help War of the worlds by H. G. Wells. Book 1
He gripped his knees and turned to look at me again. For half a `
` minute, perhaps, he stared silently. `
` `
` "I was walking through the roads to clear my brain," he said. "And `
` suddenly--fire, earthquake, death!" `
` `
` He relapsed into silence, with his chin now sunken almost to his `
` knees. `
` `
` Presently he began waving his hand. `
` `
` "All the work--all the Sunday schools--What have we done--what has `
` Weybridge done? Everything gone--everything destroyed. The church! `
` We rebuilt it only three years ago. Gone! Swept out of existence! `
` Why?" `
` `
` Another pause, and he broke out again like one demented. `
` `
` "The smoke of her burning goeth up for ever and ever!" he shouted. `
` `
` His eyes flamed, and he pointed a lean finger in the direction of `
` Weybridge. `
` `
` By this time I was beginning to take his measure. The tremendous `
` tragedy in which he had been involved--it was evident he was a `
` fugitive from Weybridge--had driven him to the very verge of his `
` reason. `
` `
` "Are we far from Sunbury?" I said, in a matter-of-fact tone. `
` `
` "What are we to do?" he asked. "Are these creatures everywhere? `
` Has the earth been given over to them?" `
` `
` "Are we far from Sunbury?" `
` `
` "Only this morning I officiated at early celebration----" `
` `
` "Things have changed," I said, quietly. "You must keep your head. `
` There is still hope." `
` `
` "Hope!" `
` `
` "Yes. Plentiful hope--for all this destruction!" `
` `
` I began to explain my view of our position. He listened at first, `
` but as I went on the interest dawning in his eyes gave place to their `
` former stare, and his regard wandered from me. `
` `
` "This must be the beginning of the end," he said, interrupting me. `
` "The end! The great and terrible day of the Lord! When men shall `
` call upon the mountains and the rocks to fall upon them and hide `
` them--hide them from the face of Him that sitteth upon the throne!" `
` `
` I began to understand the position. I ceased my laboured `
` reasoning, struggled to my feet, and, standing over him, laid my hand `
` on his shoulder. `
` `
` "Be a man!" said I. "You are scared out of your wits! What good `
` is religion if it collapses under calamity? Think of what earthquakes `
` and floods, wars and volcanoes, have done before to men! Did you `
` think God had exempted Weybridge? He is not an insurance agent." `
` `
` For a time he sat in blank silence. `
` `
` "But how can we escape?" he asked, suddenly. "They are `
` invulnerable, they are pitiless." `
` `
` "Neither the one nor, perhaps, the other," I answered. "And the `
` mightier they are the more sane and wary should we be. One of them `
` was killed yonder not three hours ago." `
` `
` "Killed!" he said, staring about him. "How can God's ministers be `
` killed?" `
` `
` "I saw it happen." I proceeded to tell him. "We have chanced to `
` come in for the thick of it," said I, "and that is all." `
` `
` "What is that flicker in the sky?" he asked abruptly. `
` `
` I told him it was the heliograph signalling--that it was the sign `
` of human help and effort in the sky. `
` `
` "We are in the midst of it," I said, "quiet as it is. That flicker `
` in the sky tells of the gathering storm. Yonder, I take it are the `
` Martians, and Londonward, where those hills rise about Richmond and `
` Kingston and the trees give cover, earthworks are being thrown up and `
` guns are being placed. Presently the Martians will be coming this way `
` again." `
` `
` And even as I spoke he sprang to his feet and stopped me by a `
` gesture. `
` `
` "Listen!" he said. `
` `
` From beyond the low hills across the water came the dull resonance `
` of distant guns and a remote weird crying. Then everything was still. `
` A cockchafer came droning over the hedge and past us. High in the `
` west the crescent moon hung faint and pale above the smoke of `
` Weybridge and Shepperton and the hot, still splendour of the sunset. `
` `
` "We had better follow this path," I said, "northward." `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER FOURTEEN `
` `
` IN LONDON `
` `
` `
` My younger brother was in London when the Martians fell at Woking. `
` He was a medical student working for an imminent examination, and he `
` heard nothing of the arrival until Saturday morning. The morning `
` papers on Saturday contained, in addition to lengthy special articles `
` on the planet Mars, on life in the planets, and so forth, a brief and `
` vaguely worded telegram, all the more striking for its brevity. `
` `
` The Martians, alarmed by the approach of a crowd, had killed a `
` number of people with a quick-firing gun, so the story ran. The `
` telegram concluded with the words: "Formidable as they seem to be, the `
` Martians have not moved from the pit into which they have fallen, and, `
` indeed, seem incapable of doing so. Probably this is due to the `
` relative strength of the earth's gravitational energy." On that last `
` text their leader-writer expanded very comfortingly. `
` `
` Of course all the students in the crammer's biology class, to which `
` my brother went that day, were intensely interested, but there were no `
` signs of any unusual excitement in the streets. The afternoon papers `
` puffed scraps of news under big headlines. They had nothing to tell `
` beyond the movements of troops about the common, and the burning of `
` the pine woods between Woking and Weybridge, until eight. Then the `
` _St. James's Gazette_, in an extra-special edition, announced the bare `
` fact of the interruption of telegraphic communication. This was `
` thought to be due to the falling of burning pine trees across the `
` line. Nothing more of the fighting was known that night, the night of `
` my drive to Leatherhead and back. `
` `
` My brother felt no anxiety about us, as he knew from the `
` description in the papers that the cylinder was a good two miles from `
` my house. He made up his mind to run down that night to me, in order, `
` as he says, to see the Things before they were killed. He dispatched `
` a telegram, which never reached me, about four o'clock, and spent the `
` evening at a music hall. `
` `
` In London, also, on Saturday night there was a thunderstorm, and my `
` brother reached Waterloo in a cab. On the platform from which the `
` midnight train usually starts he learned, after some waiting, that an `
` accident prevented trains from reaching Woking that night. The nature `
` of the accident he could not ascertain; indeed, the railway `
` authorities did not clearly know at that time. There was very little `
` excitement in the station, as the officials, failing to realise that `
` anything further than a breakdown between Byfleet and Woking junction `
` had occurred, were running the theatre trains which usually passed `
` through Woking round by Virginia Water or Guildford. They were busy `
` making the necessary arrangements to alter the route of the `
` Southampton and Portsmouth Sunday League excursions. A nocturnal `
` newspaper reporter, mistaking my brother for the traffic manager, to `
` whom he bears a slight resemblance, waylaid and tried to interview `
` him. Few people, excepting the railway officials, connected the `
` breakdown with the Martians. `
` `
` I have read, in another account of these events, that on Sunday `
` morning "all London was electrified by the news from Woking." As a `
` matter of fact, there was nothing to justify that very extravagant `
` phrase. Plenty of Londoners did not hear of the Martians until the `
` panic of Monday morning. Those who did took some time to realise all `
` that the hastily worded telegrams in the Sunday papers conveyed. The `
` majority of people in London do not read Sunday papers. `
` `
` The habit of personal security, moreover, is so deeply fixed in the `
` Londoner's mind, and startling intelligence so much a matter of course `
` in the papers, that they could read without any personal tremors: `
` "About seven o'clock last night the Martians came out of the cylinder, `
` and, moving about under an armour of metallic shields, have completely `
` wrecked Woking station with the adjacent houses, and massacred an `
` entire battalion of the Cardigan Regiment. No details are known. `
` Maxims have been absolutely useless against their armour; the field `
` guns have been disabled by them. Flying hussars have been galloping `
` into Chertsey. The Martians appear to be moving slowly towards `
` Chertsey or Windsor. Great anxiety prevails in West Surrey, and `
` earthworks are being thrown up to check the advance Londonward." That `
` was how the Sunday _Sun_ put it, and a clever and remarkably prompt `
` "handbook" article in the _Referee_ compared the affair to a menagerie `
` suddenly let loose in a village. `
` `
` No one in London knew positively of the nature of the armoured `
` Martians, and there was still a fixed idea that these monsters must be `
` sluggish: "crawling," "creeping painfully"--such expressions occurred `
` in almost all the earlier reports. None of the telegrams could have `
` been written by an eyewitness of their advance. The Sunday papers `
` printed separate editions as further news came to hand, some even in `
` default of it. But there was practically nothing more to tell people `
` until late in the afternoon, when the authorities gave the press `
` agencies the news in their possession. It was stated that the people `
` of Walton and Weybridge, and all the district were pouring along the `
` roads Londonward, and that was all. `
` `
` My brother went to church at the Foundling Hospital in the morning, `
` still in ignorance of what had happened on the previous night. There `
` he heard allusions made to the invasion, and a special prayer for `
` peace. Coming out, he bought a _Referee_. He became alarmed at the `
` news in this, and went again to Waterloo station to find out if `
`
` minute, perhaps, he stared silently. `
` `
` "I was walking through the roads to clear my brain," he said. "And `
` suddenly--fire, earthquake, death!" `
` `
` He relapsed into silence, with his chin now sunken almost to his `
` knees. `
` `
` Presently he began waving his hand. `
` `
` "All the work--all the Sunday schools--What have we done--what has `
` Weybridge done? Everything gone--everything destroyed. The church! `
` We rebuilt it only three years ago. Gone! Swept out of existence! `
` Why?" `
` `
` Another pause, and he broke out again like one demented. `
` `
` "The smoke of her burning goeth up for ever and ever!" he shouted. `
` `
` His eyes flamed, and he pointed a lean finger in the direction of `
` Weybridge. `
` `
` By this time I was beginning to take his measure. The tremendous `
` tragedy in which he had been involved--it was evident he was a `
` fugitive from Weybridge--had driven him to the very verge of his `
` reason. `
` `
` "Are we far from Sunbury?" I said, in a matter-of-fact tone. `
` `
` "What are we to do?" he asked. "Are these creatures everywhere? `
` Has the earth been given over to them?" `
` `
` "Are we far from Sunbury?" `
` `
` "Only this morning I officiated at early celebration----" `
` `
` "Things have changed," I said, quietly. "You must keep your head. `
` There is still hope." `
` `
` "Hope!" `
` `
` "Yes. Plentiful hope--for all this destruction!" `
` `
` I began to explain my view of our position. He listened at first, `
` but as I went on the interest dawning in his eyes gave place to their `
` former stare, and his regard wandered from me. `
` `
` "This must be the beginning of the end," he said, interrupting me. `
` "The end! The great and terrible day of the Lord! When men shall `
` call upon the mountains and the rocks to fall upon them and hide `
` them--hide them from the face of Him that sitteth upon the throne!" `
` `
` I began to understand the position. I ceased my laboured `
` reasoning, struggled to my feet, and, standing over him, laid my hand `
` on his shoulder. `
` `
` "Be a man!" said I. "You are scared out of your wits! What good `
` is religion if it collapses under calamity? Think of what earthquakes `
` and floods, wars and volcanoes, have done before to men! Did you `
` think God had exempted Weybridge? He is not an insurance agent." `
` `
` For a time he sat in blank silence. `
` `
` "But how can we escape?" he asked, suddenly. "They are `
` invulnerable, they are pitiless." `
` `
` "Neither the one nor, perhaps, the other," I answered. "And the `
` mightier they are the more sane and wary should we be. One of them `
` was killed yonder not three hours ago." `
` `
` "Killed!" he said, staring about him. "How can God's ministers be `
` killed?" `
` `
` "I saw it happen." I proceeded to tell him. "We have chanced to `
` come in for the thick of it," said I, "and that is all." `
` `
` "What is that flicker in the sky?" he asked abruptly. `
` `
` I told him it was the heliograph signalling--that it was the sign `
` of human help and effort in the sky. `
` `
` "We are in the midst of it," I said, "quiet as it is. That flicker `
` in the sky tells of the gathering storm. Yonder, I take it are the `
` Martians, and Londonward, where those hills rise about Richmond and `
` Kingston and the trees give cover, earthworks are being thrown up and `
` guns are being placed. Presently the Martians will be coming this way `
` again." `
` `
` And even as I spoke he sprang to his feet and stopped me by a `
` gesture. `
` `
` "Listen!" he said. `
` `
` From beyond the low hills across the water came the dull resonance `
` of distant guns and a remote weird crying. Then everything was still. `
` A cockchafer came droning over the hedge and past us. High in the `
` west the crescent moon hung faint and pale above the smoke of `
` Weybridge and Shepperton and the hot, still splendour of the sunset. `
` `
` "We had better follow this path," I said, "northward." `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER FOURTEEN `
` `
` IN LONDON `
` `
` `
` My younger brother was in London when the Martians fell at Woking. `
` He was a medical student working for an imminent examination, and he `
` heard nothing of the arrival until Saturday morning. The morning `
` papers on Saturday contained, in addition to lengthy special articles `
` on the planet Mars, on life in the planets, and so forth, a brief and `
` vaguely worded telegram, all the more striking for its brevity. `
` `
` The Martians, alarmed by the approach of a crowd, had killed a `
` number of people with a quick-firing gun, so the story ran. The `
` telegram concluded with the words: "Formidable as they seem to be, the `
` Martians have not moved from the pit into which they have fallen, and, `
` indeed, seem incapable of doing so. Probably this is due to the `
` relative strength of the earth's gravitational energy." On that last `
` text their leader-writer expanded very comfortingly. `
` `
` Of course all the students in the crammer's biology class, to which `
` my brother went that day, were intensely interested, but there were no `
` signs of any unusual excitement in the streets. The afternoon papers `
` puffed scraps of news under big headlines. They had nothing to tell `
` beyond the movements of troops about the common, and the burning of `
` the pine woods between Woking and Weybridge, until eight. Then the `
` _St. James's Gazette_, in an extra-special edition, announced the bare `
` fact of the interruption of telegraphic communication. This was `
` thought to be due to the falling of burning pine trees across the `
` line. Nothing more of the fighting was known that night, the night of `
` my drive to Leatherhead and back. `
` `
` My brother felt no anxiety about us, as he knew from the `
` description in the papers that the cylinder was a good two miles from `
` my house. He made up his mind to run down that night to me, in order, `
` as he says, to see the Things before they were killed. He dispatched `
` a telegram, which never reached me, about four o'clock, and spent the `
` evening at a music hall. `
` `
` In London, also, on Saturday night there was a thunderstorm, and my `
` brother reached Waterloo in a cab. On the platform from which the `
` midnight train usually starts he learned, after some waiting, that an `
` accident prevented trains from reaching Woking that night. The nature `
` of the accident he could not ascertain; indeed, the railway `
` authorities did not clearly know at that time. There was very little `
` excitement in the station, as the officials, failing to realise that `
` anything further than a breakdown between Byfleet and Woking junction `
` had occurred, were running the theatre trains which usually passed `
` through Woking round by Virginia Water or Guildford. They were busy `
` making the necessary arrangements to alter the route of the `
` Southampton and Portsmouth Sunday League excursions. A nocturnal `
` newspaper reporter, mistaking my brother for the traffic manager, to `
` whom he bears a slight resemblance, waylaid and tried to interview `
` him. Few people, excepting the railway officials, connected the `
` breakdown with the Martians. `
` `
` I have read, in another account of these events, that on Sunday `
` morning "all London was electrified by the news from Woking." As a `
` matter of fact, there was nothing to justify that very extravagant `
` phrase. Plenty of Londoners did not hear of the Martians until the `
` panic of Monday morning. Those who did took some time to realise all `
` that the hastily worded telegrams in the Sunday papers conveyed. The `
` majority of people in London do not read Sunday papers. `
` `
` The habit of personal security, moreover, is so deeply fixed in the `
` Londoner's mind, and startling intelligence so much a matter of course `
` in the papers, that they could read without any personal tremors: `
` "About seven o'clock last night the Martians came out of the cylinder, `
` and, moving about under an armour of metallic shields, have completely `
` wrecked Woking station with the adjacent houses, and massacred an `
` entire battalion of the Cardigan Regiment. No details are known. `
` Maxims have been absolutely useless against their armour; the field `
` guns have been disabled by them. Flying hussars have been galloping `
` into Chertsey. The Martians appear to be moving slowly towards `
` Chertsey or Windsor. Great anxiety prevails in West Surrey, and `
` earthworks are being thrown up to check the advance Londonward." That `
` was how the Sunday _Sun_ put it, and a clever and remarkably prompt `
` "handbook" article in the _Referee_ compared the affair to a menagerie `
` suddenly let loose in a village. `
` `
` No one in London knew positively of the nature of the armoured `
` Martians, and there was still a fixed idea that these monsters must be `
` sluggish: "crawling," "creeping painfully"--such expressions occurred `
` in almost all the earlier reports. None of the telegrams could have `
` been written by an eyewitness of their advance. The Sunday papers `
` printed separate editions as further news came to hand, some even in `
` default of it. But there was practically nothing more to tell people `
` until late in the afternoon, when the authorities gave the press `
` agencies the news in their possession. It was stated that the people `
` of Walton and Weybridge, and all the district were pouring along the `
` roads Londonward, and that was all. `
` `
` My brother went to church at the Foundling Hospital in the morning, `
` still in ignorance of what had happened on the previous night. There `
` he heard allusions made to the invasion, and a special prayer for `
` peace. Coming out, he bought a _Referee_. He became alarmed at the `
` news in this, and went again to Waterloo station to find out if `
`