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I TOLD SOME of you last Thursday of the principles of the Time
Machine, and showed you the actual thing itself, incomplete in the
workshop. There it is now, a little travel-worn, truly; and one of
the ivory bars is cracked, and a brass rail bent; but the rest of its
sound enough. I expected to finish it on Friday, but on Friday,
when the putting together was nearly done, I found that one of the
nickel bars was exactly one inch too short, and this I had to get
remade; so that the thing was not complete until this morning. It
was at ten oclock to-day that the first of all Time Machines began
its career. I gave it a last tap, tried all the screws again, put one
more drop of oil on the quartz rod, and sat myself in the saddle. I
suppose a suicide who holds a pistol to his skull feels much the
same wonder at what will come next as I felt then. I took the
starting lever in one hand and the stopping one in the other,
pressed the first, and almost immediately the second. I seemed to
reel; I felt a nightmare sensation of falling; and, looking round, I
saw the laboratory exactly as before. Had anything happened? For
a moment I suspected that my intellect had tricked me. Then I
noted the clock. A moment before, as it seemed, it had stood at a
minute or so past ten; now it was nearly half-past three!

I drew a breath, set my teeth, gripped the starting lever with both
hands, and went off with a thud. The laboratory got hazy and went
dark. Mrs. Watchett came in and walked, apparently without
seeing me, towards the garden door. I suppose it took her a minute
or so to traverse the place, but to me she seemed to shoot across the
room like a rocket. I pressed the lever over to its extreme position.
The night came like the turning out of a lamp, and in another
moment came to-morrow. The laboratory grew faint and hazy,
then fainter and ever fainter. To-morrow night came black, then
day again, night again, day again, faster and faster still.

An eddying murmur filled my ears, and a strange, dumb
confusedness descended on my mind.

I am afraid I cannot convey the peculiar sensations of time
travelling. They are excessively unpleasant. There is a feeling
exactly like that one has upon a switchback-of a helpless headlong
motion! I felt the same horrible anticipation, too, of an imminent
smash. As I put on pace, night followed day like the flapping of a
black wing. The dim suggestion of the laboratory seemed presently
to fall away from me, and I saw the sun hopping swiftly across the
sky, leaping it every minute, and every minute marking a day. I
supposed the laboratory had been destroyed and I had come into
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