March 6, 2025 • 16 mins
The Time Machine by H.G. Wells is a classic science fiction novel that follows an unnamed scientist, known as the Time Traveller, who invents a machine that allows him to travel through time. He journeys to the distant future, arriving in the year 802,701, where he encounters two distinct races: the gentle, childlike Eloi and the sinister, underground-dwelling Morlocks. As he explores this strange future, he realizes the dark implications of humanity’s evolution. The novel explores themes of class struggle, the passage of time, and the fate of civilization, making it one of the most influential works in science fiction history.
This content was created in partnership and with the help of Artificial Intelligence AI
This content was created in partnership and with the help of Artificial Intelligence AI
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter nine of The Time Machine by H. G. Wells.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Time
Machine Chapter nine. We emerged from the palace while the
sun was still in part above the horizon. I was
determined to reach the White Sphinx early the next morning,
(00:22):
and ere the dusk, I proposed pushing through the woods
that had stopped me on the previous journey. My plan
was to go as far as possible that night, and
then building a fire to sleep in the protection of
its glare. Accordingly, as we went along, I gathered any
sticks or dried grass I saw, and presently had my
(00:44):
arms full of such litter. Thus loaded. Our progress was
slower than I had anticipated, And besides, Weena was tired,
and I began to suffer from sleepiness, too, so that
it was full night before we reached the wood upon
the shrubby hill of its edge. Weena would have stopped
(01:04):
fearing the darkness before us, but a singular sense of
impending calamity that should indeed have served me as a warning,
drove me onward. I had been without sleep for a
night and two days, and I was feverish and irritable.
I felt sleep coming upon me and the Morlocks with it.
(01:26):
While we hesitated among the black bushes behind us and
dim against their blackness, I saw three crouching figures. There
was scrub and long grass all about us, and I
did not feel safe from their insidious approach. The forest,
I calculated, was rather less than a mile across if
(01:46):
we could get through it to the bare hill side, there,
as it seemed to me, was an altogether safer resting place.
I thought that with my matches and my camphor, I
could contrive to keep my path illuminated through the woods.
Yet it was evident that if I was to flourish
matches with my hands, I should have to abandon my firewood.
(02:08):
So rather reluctantly I put it down, and then it
came into my head that I would amaze our friends
behind by lighting it. I was to discover the atrocious
folly of this proceeding, but it came to my mind
as an ingenious move for covering our retreat. I don't
know if you have ever thought what a rare thing
(02:30):
flame must be in the absence of man, and in
a temperate climate. The sun's heat is rarely strong enough
to burn, even when it is focused by dewdrops, As
is sometimes the case in more tropical districts. Lightning may
blast and blacken, but it rarely gives rise to widespread fire.
(02:50):
Decaying vegetation may occasionally smolder with the heat of its fermentation,
but this rarely results in flame. In this decadence, too,
the art of fire making had been forgotten on the earth.
The red tongues that went licking up my heap of
wood were an altogether new and strange thing to Weena.
(03:10):
She wanted to run to it and play with it.
I believe she would have cast herself into it had
I not restrained her. But I caught her up, and,
in spite of her struggles, plunged boldly before me into
the wood for a little way. The glare of my
fire lit the path. Looking back presently, I could see
(03:31):
through the crowded stems that from my heap of sticks,
the blaze had spread to some bushes adjacent, and a
curved line of fire was creeping up the grass of
the hill. I laughed at that, and turned again to
the dark trees before me. It was very black, and
Weena clung to me convulsively, but there was still. As
(03:51):
my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, sufficient light for
me to avoid the stems. Overhead, it was simply black,
except where I gap of remote blue sky shone down
upon us. Here and there I struck none of my matches.
Because I had no hand free upon my left arm,
I carried my little one in my right hand. I
(04:12):
had my iron bar for some way. I heard nothing
but the crackling twigs under my feet, the faint rustle
of the breeze above, and my own breathing, and the
throb of the blood vessels in my ears. Then I
seemed to know of a pattering about me. I pushed
on grimly. The pattering grew more distinct, and then I
(04:34):
caught the same queer sound and voices I had heard
in the underworld. There were evidently several of the Morlocks,
and they were closing in upon me. Indeed, in another minute,
I felt a tug at my coat, then something at
my arm, and Weena shivered violently and became quite still.
(04:55):
It was time for a match, but to get one,
I must put her down. I did so, and as
I fumbled with my pocket, a struggle began in the
darkness about my knees. Perfectly silent on her part, and
with the same peculiar cooing sounds from the Morlocks. Soft
little hands too were creeping over my coat and back,
(05:17):
touching even my neck. Then the match scratched and fizzed.
I held it flaring, and saw the white backs of
the Morlocks in flight amid the trees. I hastily took
a lump of camphor from my pocket and prepared to
light it as soon as the match should wane. Then
I looked at Weena. She was lying clutching my feet
(05:38):
and quite motionless, with her face to the ground. With
a sudden fright, I stooped to her. She seemed scarcely
to breathe. I lit the block of camphor and flung
it to the ground, and as it split and flared
up and drove back the Morlocks and the shadows, I
knelt down and lifted her. The wood behind seemed full
(05:59):
of the stir and murmur of a great company. She
seemed to have fainted. I put her carefully upon my
shoulder and rose to push on. And then there came
a horrible realization. In maneuvering with my matches and Weena,
I had turned myself about several times, and now I
(06:21):
had not the faintest idea in what direction lay my path,
For all I knew I might be facing back towards
the palace of green porcelain. I found myself in a
cold sweat. I had to think rapidly what to do.
I determined to build a fire, And in camp where
we were, I put Weena, still motionless, down upon a
(06:44):
turfy bowl, and very hastily, as my first lump of
camphor waned, I began collecting sticks and leaves here and there.
Out of the darkness round me. The morlock's eyes shone
like carbuncles. The camphor flickered and went out. I lit
a match, and as I did so, two white forms
(07:04):
that had been approaching Weena dashed hastily away. One was
so blinded by the light that he came straight for me,
and I felt his bones grind under the blow of
my fist. He gave a whoop of dismay, staggered a
little way, and fell down. I lit another piece of
camphor and went on gathering my bonfire. Presently I noticed
(07:26):
how dry was some of the foliage above me. For
since my arrival on the time machine a matter of
a week, no rain had fallen. So instead of casting
about among the trees for fallen twigs, I began leaping
up and dragging down branches. Very soon I had a choking,
smoky fire of green wood and dry sticks, and could
(07:48):
economize my camphor. Then I turned to where Lina lay
beside my iron mace. I tried what I could to
revive her, but she lay like one dead. I could
not even satisfy myself whether or not she breathed. Now
the smoke of the fire beat over towards me, and
it must have made me heavy of a sudden Moreover,
(08:10):
the vapor of camphor was in the air. My fire
would not need replenishing for an hour or so. I
felt very weary after my exertion, and sat down. The wood, too,
was full of a slumbrous murmur that I did not understand.
I seemed just to nod and open my eyes, But
(08:30):
all was dark, and the morlocks had their hands upon me,
flinging off their clinging fingers. I hastily felt in my
pocket for the match box, and it had gone. Then
they gripped and closed with me again. In a moment
I knew what had happened. I had slept and my
fire had gone out, and the bitterness of death came
(08:52):
over my soul. The forest seemed full of the smell
of burning wood. I was caught by the neck, by
the hair, by the arms, and pulled down. It was
indescribably horrible in the darkness to feel all those soft
creatures heaped upon me. I felt as if I was
in a monstrous spider's web. I was overpowered and went down.
(09:16):
I felt little teeth nipping at my neck. I rolled over,
and as I did so, my hand came against my
iron lever. It gave me strength. I struggled up, shaking
the human rats from me and holding the bar short.
I thrust where I judged their faces might be. I
could feel the succulent giving of flesh and bone under
(09:37):
my blows, and for a moment I was free. The
strange exultation that so often seems to accompany hard fighting
came upon me. I knew that both I and Weena
were lost, but I determined to make the morlots pay
for their meat. I stood with my back to a tree,
swinging the iron bar before me. The whole wood was
(09:58):
full of the stir and cries of them. A minute
passed their voices seemed to rise to a higher pitch
of excitement, and their movements grew faster, yet none came
within reach. I stood glaring at the blackness. Then suddenly
came hope, what if the morlocks were afraid? And close
(10:20):
on the heels of that came a strange thing. The
darkness seemed to grow luminous, very dimly. I began to
see the morlocks about me. Three battered at my feet,
and then I recognized with incredulous surprise that the others
were running in an incessant stream, as it seemed, from
behind me and away through the wood in front, and
(10:42):
their backs seemed no longer white but reddish. As I
stood agape, I saw a little red spark go drifting
across a gap of starlight between the branches and vanish
And at that I understood the smell of burning wood,
the slumbrous murmur that was growing now into a gusty roar,
the red glow, and the morlock's flight. Stepping out from
(11:07):
behind my tree, and looking back, I saw through the
black pillars of the nearer trees the flames of the
burning forest. It was my first fire coming after me.
With that, I looked for Weena, but she was gone.
The hissing and crackling behind me, the explosive thud as
each fresh tree burst into flame, left little time for reflection.
(11:31):
My iron bar still gripped, I followed in the morlock's path.
It was a close race once the flames crept forward
so swiftly on my right as I ran that I
was out flanked and had to strike off to the left.
But at last I emerged upon a small open space,
and as I did so, a morlock came blundering towards me,
(11:52):
and passed me and went on straight into the fire.
And now I was able to see the most weird,
weird and horrible thing I think of all that I
beheld in that future age. This whole space was as
bright as day with the reflection of the fire. In
the center was a hillock or tumulus, surmounted by a
(12:14):
scorched hawthorn. Beyond this was another arm of the burning forest,
with yellow tongues already writhing from it, completely encircling the
space with a fence of fire. Upon the hillside were
some thirty or forty morlocks, dazzled by the light and heat,
and blundering hither and thither against each other in their bewilderment.
(12:36):
At first I did not realize their blindness, and struck
furiously at them with my bar in a frenzy of
fear as they approached me, killing one and crippling several more.
But when I had watched the gestures of one of
them groping under the hawthorn against the red sky, and
heard their moans, I was assured of their absolute helplessness
(12:59):
and misery in the glare, and I struck no more
of them. Yet every now and then one would come
straight towards me, setting loose a quivering horror that made
me quick to elude him. At one time, the flames
died down somewhat, and I feared the foul creatures would
presently be able to see me. I was thinking of
(13:20):
beginning the fight by killing some of them before this
should happen. But the fire burst out again brightly, and
I stayed my hand. I walked about the hill among
them and avoided them, looking for some trace of Weena,
but Weena was gone. At last, I sat down on
the summit of the hillock and watched this strange, incredible
(13:41):
company of blind things groping to and fro and making
uncanny noises to each other as the glare of the
fire beat on them. The coiling uprush of smoke streamed
across the sky and through the rare tatters of that
red canopy, remote as though they belonged to another universe.
The little stars, two or three morlocks came blundering into me,
(14:05):
and I drove them off with blows of my fists,
trembling as I did so. For the most part of
that night, I was persuaded it was a nightmare. I
bit myself and screamed in a passionate desire to awake.
I beat the ground with my hands, and got up,
and sat down again, and wandered here and there, and
(14:25):
again sat down. Then I would fall to rubbing my
eyes and calling upon God to let me awake. Thrice
I saw morlocks put their heads down in a kind
of agony, and rush into the flames. But at last,
above the subsiding red of the fire, above the streaming
masses of black smoke, and the whitening and blackening tree stumps,
(14:47):
and the diminishing numbers of these dim creatures, came the
white light of the day. I searched again for traces
of Weena, but there were none. It was lane that
they had left her poor little body in the forest.
I cannot describe how it relieved me to think that
(15:08):
it had escaped the awful fate to which it seemed destined.
As I thought of that, I was almost moved to
begin a massacre of the helpless abominations about me, But
I contained myself. The hillock, as I have said, was
a kind of island in the forest. From its summit
I could now make out, through a haze of smoke,
(15:29):
the palace of green porcelain, and from that I could
get my bearings for the white Sphinx, and so leaving
the remnant of these damned souls still going hither and
thither and moaning. As the day grew clearer, I tied
some grass about my feet and limped on across smoking
ashes and among black stems that still pulsated internally with fire,
(15:53):
towards the hiding place of the time machine. I walked slowly,
for I was almost exhaust as well as lame, and
I felt the intensest wretchedness for the horrible death of
little Weena. It seemed an overwhelming calamity. Now, in this old,
familiar room, it is more like the sorrow of a
(16:14):
dream than an actual loss. But that morning it left
me absolutely lonely again, terribly alone. I began to think
of this house of mine, of this fireside, of some
of you, and with such thoughts came a longing that
was pain. But as I walked over the smoking ashes
(16:35):
under the bright morning sky, I made a discovery. In
my trouser pocket were still some loose matches. The box
must have leaked before it was lost. End of Chapter
nine
Chapter nine of The Time Machine by H. G. Wells.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Time
Machine Chapter nine. We emerged from the palace while the
sun was still in part above the horizon. I was
determined to reach the White Sphinx early the next morning,
(00:22):
and ere the dusk, I proposed pushing through the woods
that had stopped me on the previous journey. My plan
was to go as far as possible that night, and
then building a fire to sleep in the protection of
its glare. Accordingly, as we went along, I gathered any
sticks or dried grass I saw, and presently had my
(00:44):
arms full of such litter. Thus loaded. Our progress was
slower than I had anticipated, And besides, Weena was tired,
and I began to suffer from sleepiness, too, so that
it was full night before we reached the wood upon
the shrubby hill of its edge. Weena would have stopped
(01:04):
fearing the darkness before us, but a singular sense of
impending calamity that should indeed have served me as a warning,
drove me onward. I had been without sleep for a
night and two days, and I was feverish and irritable.
I felt sleep coming upon me and the Morlocks with it.
(01:26):
While we hesitated among the black bushes behind us and
dim against their blackness, I saw three crouching figures. There
was scrub and long grass all about us, and I
did not feel safe from their insidious approach. The forest,
I calculated, was rather less than a mile across if
(01:46):
we could get through it to the bare hill side, there,
as it seemed to me, was an altogether safer resting place.
I thought that with my matches and my camphor, I
could contrive to keep my path illuminated through the woods.
Yet it was evident that if I was to flourish
matches with my hands, I should have to abandon my firewood.
(02:08):
So rather reluctantly I put it down, and then it
came into my head that I would amaze our friends
behind by lighting it. I was to discover the atrocious
folly of this proceeding, but it came to my mind
as an ingenious move for covering our retreat. I don't
know if you have ever thought what a rare thing
(02:30):
flame must be in the absence of man, and in
a temperate climate. The sun's heat is rarely strong enough
to burn, even when it is focused by dewdrops, As
is sometimes the case in more tropical districts. Lightning may
blast and blacken, but it rarely gives rise to widespread fire.
(02:50):
Decaying vegetation may occasionally smolder with the heat of its fermentation,
but this rarely results in flame. In this decadence, too,
the art of fire making had been forgotten on the earth.
The red tongues that went licking up my heap of
wood were an altogether new and strange thing to Weena.
(03:10):
She wanted to run to it and play with it.
I believe she would have cast herself into it had
I not restrained her. But I caught her up, and,
in spite of her struggles, plunged boldly before me into
the wood for a little way. The glare of my
fire lit the path. Looking back presently, I could see
(03:31):
through the crowded stems that from my heap of sticks,
the blaze had spread to some bushes adjacent, and a
curved line of fire was creeping up the grass of
the hill. I laughed at that, and turned again to
the dark trees before me. It was very black, and
Weena clung to me convulsively, but there was still. As
(03:51):
my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, sufficient light for
me to avoid the stems. Overhead, it was simply black,
except where I gap of remote blue sky shone down
upon us. Here and there I struck none of my matches.
Because I had no hand free upon my left arm,
I carried my little one in my right hand. I
(04:12):
had my iron bar for some way. I heard nothing
but the crackling twigs under my feet, the faint rustle
of the breeze above, and my own breathing, and the
throb of the blood vessels in my ears. Then I
seemed to know of a pattering about me. I pushed
on grimly. The pattering grew more distinct, and then I
(04:34):
caught the same queer sound and voices I had heard
in the underworld. There were evidently several of the Morlocks,
and they were closing in upon me. Indeed, in another minute,
I felt a tug at my coat, then something at
my arm, and Weena shivered violently and became quite still.
(04:55):
It was time for a match, but to get one,
I must put her down. I did so, and as
I fumbled with my pocket, a struggle began in the
darkness about my knees. Perfectly silent on her part, and
with the same peculiar cooing sounds from the Morlocks. Soft
little hands too were creeping over my coat and back,
(05:17):
touching even my neck. Then the match scratched and fizzed.
I held it flaring, and saw the white backs of
the Morlocks in flight amid the trees. I hastily took
a lump of camphor from my pocket and prepared to
light it as soon as the match should wane. Then
I looked at Weena. She was lying clutching my feet
(05:38):
and quite motionless, with her face to the ground. With
a sudden fright, I stooped to her. She seemed scarcely
to breathe. I lit the block of camphor and flung
it to the ground, and as it split and flared
up and drove back the Morlocks and the shadows, I
knelt down and lifted her. The wood behind seemed full
(05:59):
of the stir and murmur of a great company. She
seemed to have fainted. I put her carefully upon my
shoulder and rose to push on. And then there came
a horrible realization. In maneuvering with my matches and Weena,
I had turned myself about several times, and now I
(06:21):
had not the faintest idea in what direction lay my path,
For all I knew I might be facing back towards
the palace of green porcelain. I found myself in a
cold sweat. I had to think rapidly what to do.
I determined to build a fire, And in camp where
we were, I put Weena, still motionless, down upon a
(06:44):
turfy bowl, and very hastily, as my first lump of
camphor waned, I began collecting sticks and leaves here and there.
Out of the darkness round me. The morlock's eyes shone
like carbuncles. The camphor flickered and went out. I lit
a match, and as I did so, two white forms
(07:04):
that had been approaching Weena dashed hastily away. One was
so blinded by the light that he came straight for me,
and I felt his bones grind under the blow of
my fist. He gave a whoop of dismay, staggered a
little way, and fell down. I lit another piece of
camphor and went on gathering my bonfire. Presently I noticed
(07:26):
how dry was some of the foliage above me. For
since my arrival on the time machine a matter of
a week, no rain had fallen. So instead of casting
about among the trees for fallen twigs, I began leaping
up and dragging down branches. Very soon I had a choking,
smoky fire of green wood and dry sticks, and could
(07:48):
economize my camphor. Then I turned to where Lina lay
beside my iron mace. I tried what I could to
revive her, but she lay like one dead. I could
not even satisfy myself whether or not she breathed. Now
the smoke of the fire beat over towards me, and
it must have made me heavy of a sudden Moreover,
(08:10):
the vapor of camphor was in the air. My fire
would not need replenishing for an hour or so. I
felt very weary after my exertion, and sat down. The wood, too,
was full of a slumbrous murmur that I did not understand.
I seemed just to nod and open my eyes, But
(08:30):
all was dark, and the morlocks had their hands upon me,
flinging off their clinging fingers. I hastily felt in my
pocket for the match box, and it had gone. Then
they gripped and closed with me again. In a moment
I knew what had happened. I had slept and my
fire had gone out, and the bitterness of death came
(08:52):
over my soul. The forest seemed full of the smell
of burning wood. I was caught by the neck, by
the hair, by the arms, and pulled down. It was
indescribably horrible in the darkness to feel all those soft
creatures heaped upon me. I felt as if I was
in a monstrous spider's web. I was overpowered and went down.
(09:16):
I felt little teeth nipping at my neck. I rolled over,
and as I did so, my hand came against my
iron lever. It gave me strength. I struggled up, shaking
the human rats from me and holding the bar short.
I thrust where I judged their faces might be. I
could feel the succulent giving of flesh and bone under
(09:37):
my blows, and for a moment I was free. The
strange exultation that so often seems to accompany hard fighting
came upon me. I knew that both I and Weena
were lost, but I determined to make the morlots pay
for their meat. I stood with my back to a tree,
swinging the iron bar before me. The whole wood was
(09:58):
full of the stir and cries of them. A minute
passed their voices seemed to rise to a higher pitch
of excitement, and their movements grew faster, yet none came
within reach. I stood glaring at the blackness. Then suddenly
came hope, what if the morlocks were afraid? And close
(10:20):
on the heels of that came a strange thing. The
darkness seemed to grow luminous, very dimly. I began to
see the morlocks about me. Three battered at my feet,
and then I recognized with incredulous surprise that the others
were running in an incessant stream, as it seemed, from
behind me and away through the wood in front, and
(10:42):
their backs seemed no longer white but reddish. As I
stood agape, I saw a little red spark go drifting
across a gap of starlight between the branches and vanish
And at that I understood the smell of burning wood,
the slumbrous murmur that was growing now into a gusty roar,
the red glow, and the morlock's flight. Stepping out from
(11:07):
behind my tree, and looking back, I saw through the
black pillars of the nearer trees the flames of the
burning forest. It was my first fire coming after me.
With that, I looked for Weena, but she was gone.
The hissing and crackling behind me, the explosive thud as
each fresh tree burst into flame, left little time for reflection.
(11:31):
My iron bar still gripped, I followed in the morlock's path.
It was a close race once the flames crept forward
so swiftly on my right as I ran that I
was out flanked and had to strike off to the left.
But at last I emerged upon a small open space,
and as I did so, a morlock came blundering towards me,
(11:52):
and passed me and went on straight into the fire.
And now I was able to see the most weird,
weird and horrible thing I think of all that I
beheld in that future age. This whole space was as
bright as day with the reflection of the fire. In
the center was a hillock or tumulus, surmounted by a
(12:14):
scorched hawthorn. Beyond this was another arm of the burning forest,
with yellow tongues already writhing from it, completely encircling the
space with a fence of fire. Upon the hillside were
some thirty or forty morlocks, dazzled by the light and heat,
and blundering hither and thither against each other in their bewilderment.
(12:36):
At first I did not realize their blindness, and struck
furiously at them with my bar in a frenzy of
fear as they approached me, killing one and crippling several more.
But when I had watched the gestures of one of
them groping under the hawthorn against the red sky, and
heard their moans, I was assured of their absolute helplessness
(12:59):
and misery in the glare, and I struck no more
of them. Yet every now and then one would come
straight towards me, setting loose a quivering horror that made
me quick to elude him. At one time, the flames
died down somewhat, and I feared the foul creatures would
presently be able to see me. I was thinking of
(13:20):
beginning the fight by killing some of them before this
should happen. But the fire burst out again brightly, and
I stayed my hand. I walked about the hill among
them and avoided them, looking for some trace of Weena,
but Weena was gone. At last, I sat down on
the summit of the hillock and watched this strange, incredible
(13:41):
company of blind things groping to and fro and making
uncanny noises to each other as the glare of the
fire beat on them. The coiling uprush of smoke streamed
across the sky and through the rare tatters of that
red canopy, remote as though they belonged to another universe.
The little stars, two or three morlocks came blundering into me,
(14:05):
and I drove them off with blows of my fists,
trembling as I did so. For the most part of
that night, I was persuaded it was a nightmare. I
bit myself and screamed in a passionate desire to awake.
I beat the ground with my hands, and got up,
and sat down again, and wandered here and there, and
(14:25):
again sat down. Then I would fall to rubbing my
eyes and calling upon God to let me awake. Thrice
I saw morlocks put their heads down in a kind
of agony, and rush into the flames. But at last,
above the subsiding red of the fire, above the streaming
masses of black smoke, and the whitening and blackening tree stumps,
(14:47):
and the diminishing numbers of these dim creatures, came the
white light of the day. I searched again for traces
of Weena, but there were none. It was lane that
they had left her poor little body in the forest.
I cannot describe how it relieved me to think that
(15:08):
it had escaped the awful fate to which it seemed destined.
As I thought of that, I was almost moved to
begin a massacre of the helpless abominations about me, But
I contained myself. The hillock, as I have said, was
a kind of island in the forest. From its summit
I could now make out, through a haze of smoke,
(15:29):
the palace of green porcelain, and from that I could
get my bearings for the white Sphinx, and so leaving
the remnant of these damned souls still going hither and
thither and moaning. As the day grew clearer, I tied
some grass about my feet and limped on across smoking
ashes and among black stems that still pulsated internally with fire,
(15:53):
towards the hiding place of the time machine. I walked slowly,
for I was almost exhaust as well as lame, and
I felt the intensest wretchedness for the horrible death of
little Weena. It seemed an overwhelming calamity. Now, in this old,
familiar room, it is more like the sorrow of a
(16:14):
dream than an actual loss. But that morning it left
me absolutely lonely again, terribly alone. I began to think
of this house of mine, of this fireside, of some
of you, and with such thoughts came a longing that
was pain. But as I walked over the smoking ashes
(16:35):
under the bright morning sky, I made a discovery. In
my trouser pocket were still some loose matches. The box
must have leaked before it was lost. End of Chapter
nine
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