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1One cannot choose but wonder. Will he ever return? It may be that he swept back into the past, and fell among the
2blood-drinking, hairy savages of the Age of Unpolished Stone; into the abysses of the Cretaceous Sea; or among the
3grotesque saurians, the huge reptilian brutes of the Jurassic times. He may even now--if I may use the phrase--be
4wandering on some plesiosaurus-haunted Oolitic coral reef, or beside the lonely saline seas of the Triassic Age. Or did
5he go forward, into one of the nearer ages, in which men are still men, but with the riddles of our own time answered
6and its wearisome problems solved? Into the manhood of the race: for I, for my own part, cannot think that these latter
7days of weak experiment, fragmentary theory, and mutual discord are indeed man's culminating time! I say, for my own
8part. He, I know--for the question had been discussed among us long before the Time Machine was made--thought but
9cheerlessly of the Advancement of Mankind, and saw in the growing pile of civilisation only a foolish heaping that must
10inevitably fall back upon and destroy its makers in the end. If that is so, it remains for us to live as though it were
11not so. But to me the future is still black and blank--is a vast ignorance, lit at a few casual places by the memory of
12his story. And I have by me, for my comfort, two strange white flowers--shrivelled now, and brown and flat and
13brittle--to witness that even when mind and strength had gone, gratitude and a mutual tenderness still lived on in the
14heart of man.
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