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I
hurried
through
the
red
weed
that
choked
St.
Edmund
's
Terrace
(
I
waded
breast-high
across
a
torrent
of
water
that
was
rushing
down
from
the
waterworks
towards
the
Albert
Road
)
,
and
emerged
upon
the
grass
before
the
rising
of
the
sun
.
Great
mounds
had
been
heaped
about
the
crest
of
the
hill
,
making
a
huge
redoubt
of
it
--
it
was
the
final
and
largest
place
the
Martians
had
made
--
and
from
behind
these
heaps
there
rose
a
thin
smoke
against
the
sky
.
Against
the
sky
line
an
eager
dog
ran
and
disappeared
.
The
thought
that
had
flashed
into
my
mind
grew
real
,
grew
credible
.
I
felt
no
fear
,
only
a
wild
,
trembling
exultation
,
as
I
ran
up
the
hill
towards
the
motionless
monster
.
Out
of
the
hood
hung
lank
shreds
of
brown
,
at
which
the
hungry
birds
pecked
and
tore
.
In
another
moment
I
had
scrambled
up
the
earthen
rampart
and
stood
upon
its
crest
,
and
the
interior
of
the
redoubt
was
below
me
.
A
mighty
space
it
was
,
with
gigantic
machines
here
and
there
within
it
,
huge
mounds
of
material
and
strange
shelter
places
.
And
scattered
about
it
,
some
in
their
overturned
war-machines
,
some
in
the
now
rigid
handling-machines
,
and
a
dozen
of
them
stark
and
silent
and
laid
in
a
row
,
were
the
Martians
--
dead
!
--
slain
by
the
putrefactive
and
disease
bacteria
against
which
their
systems
were
unprepared
;
slain
as
the
red
weed
was
being
slain
;
slain
,
after
all
man
's
devices
had
failed
,
by
the
humblest
things
that
God
,
in
his
wisdom
,
has
put
upon
this
earth
.
For
so
it
had
come
about
,
as
indeed
I
and
many
men
might
have
foreseen
had
not
terror
and
disaster
blinded
our
minds
.
These
germs
of
disease
have
taken
toll
of
humanity
since
the
beginning
of
things
--
taken
toll
of
our
prehuman
ancestors
since
life
began
here
.
But
by
virtue
of
this
natural
selection
of
our
kind
we
have
developed
resisting
power
;
to
no
germs
do
we
succumb
without
a
struggle
,
and
to
many
--
those
that
cause
putrefaction
in
dead
matter
,
for
instance
--
our
living
frames
are
altogether
immune
.
But
there
are
no
bacteria
in
Mars
,
and
directly
these
invaders
arrived
,
directly
they
drank
and
fed
,
our
microscopic
allies
began
to
work
their
overthrow
.
Already
when
I
watched
them
they
were
irrevocably
doomed
,
dying
and
rotting
even
as
they
went
to
and
fro
.
It
was
inevitable
.
By
the
toll
of
a
billion
deaths
man
has
bought
his
birthright
of
the
earth
,
and
it
is
his
against
all
comers
;
it
would
still
be
his
were
the
Martians
ten
times
as
mighty
as
they
are
.
For
neither
do
men
live
nor
die
in
vain
.
Here
and
there
they
were
scattered
,
nearly
fifty
altogether
,
in
that
great
gulf
they
had
made
,
overtaken
by
a
death
that
must
have
seemed
to
them
as
incomprehensible
as
any
death
could
be
.
To
me
also
at
that
time
this
death
was
incomprehensible
.
All
I
knew
was
that
these
things
that
had
been
alive
and
so
terrible
to
men
were
dead
.
For
a
moment
I
believed
that
the
destruction
of
Sennacherib
had
been
repeated
,
that
God
had
repented
,
that
the
Angel
of
Death
had
slain
them
in
the
night
.
I
stood
staring
into
the
pit
,
and
my
heart
lightened
gloriously
,
even
as
the
rising
sun
struck
the
world
to
fire
about
me
with
his
rays
.
The
pit
was
still
in
darkness
;
the
mighty
engines
,
so
great
and
wonderful
in
their
power
and
complexity
,
so
unearthly
in
their
tortuous
forms
,
rose
weird
and
vague
and
strange
out
of
the
shadows
towards
the
light
.
A
multitude
of
dogs
,
I
could
hear
,
fought
over
the
bodies
that
lay
darkly
in
the
depth
of
the
pit
,
far
below
me
.
Across
the
pit
on
its
farther
lip
,
flat
and
vast
and
strange
,
lay
the
great
flying-machine
with
which
they
had
been
experimenting
upon
our
denser
atmosphere
when
decay
and
death
arrested
them
.
Death
had
come
not
a
day
too
soon
.
At
the
sound
of
a
cawing
overhead
I
looked
up
at
the
huge
fighting-machine
that
would
fight
no
more
for
ever
,
at
the
tattered
red
shreds
of
flesh
that
dripped
down
upon
the
overturned
seats
on
the
summit
of
Primrose
Hill
.
I
turned
and
looked
down
the
slope
of
the
hill
to
where
,
enhaloed
now
in
birds
,
stood
those
other
two
Martians
that
I
had
seen
overnight
,
just
as
death
had
overtaken
them
.
The
one
had
died
,
even
as
it
had
been
crying
to
its
companions
;
perhaps
it
was
the
last
to
die
,
and
its
voice
had
gone
on
perpetually
until
the
force
of
its
machinery
was
exhausted
.
They
glittered
now
,
harmless
tripod
towers
of
shining
metal
,
in
the
brightness
of
the
rising
sun
.
All
about
the
pit
,
and
saved
as
by
a
miracle
from
everlasting
destruction
,
stretched
the
great
Mother
of
Cities
.
Those
who
have
only
seen
London
veiled
in
her
sombre
robes
of
smoke
can
scarcely
imagine
the
naked
clearness
and
beauty
of
the
silent
wilderness
of
houses
.
Eastward
,
over
the
blackened
ruins
of
the
Albert
Terrace
and
the
splintered
spire
of
the
church
,
the
sun
blazed
dazzling
in
a
clear
sky
,
and
here
and
there
some
facet
in
the
great
wilderness
of
roofs
caught
the
light
and
glared
with
a
white
intensity
.
Northward
were
Kilburn
and
Hampsted
,
blue
and
crowded
with
houses
;
westward
the
great
city
was
dimmed
;
and
southward
,
beyond
the
Martians
,
the
green
waves
of
Regent
's
Park
,
the
Langham
Hotel
,
the
dome
of
the
Albert
Hall
,
the
Imperial
Institute
,
and
the
giant
mansions
of
the
Brompton
Road
came
out
clear
and
little
in
the
sunrise
,
the
jagged
ruins
of
Westminster
rising
hazily
beyond
.
Far
away
and
blue
were
the
Surrey
hills
,
and
the
towers
of
the
Crystal
Palace
glittered
like
two
silver
rods
.
The
dome
of
St.
Paul
's
was
dark
against
the
sunrise
,
and
injured
,
I
saw
for
the
first
time
,
by
a
huge
gaping
cavity
on
its
western
side
.
