Philip Van Doren Stern (ed) (43 page)

"Now,
I
still
think
that
for
this
box
of
matches
to
have
escaped
the wear
of
time
for
immemorial
years
was
a
most
strange,
as
for
me
it was
a
most
fortunate,
thing.
Yet,
oddly
enough,
I
found
a
far
un-likelier
substance,
and
that
was
camphor.
I
found
it
in
a
sealed
jar, that
by
chance,
I
suppose,
had
been
really
hermetically
sealed.
I fancied
at
first
that
it
was
paraffin
wax,
and
smashed
the
glass
accordingly.
But
the
odour
of
camphor
was
unmistakable.
In
the
universal decay
this
volatile
substance
had
chanced
to
survive,
perhaps
through many
thousands
of
centuries.
It
reminded
me
of
a
sepia
painting
I had
once
seen
done
from
the
ink
of
a
fossil
Belemnite
that
must
have perished
and
become
fossilised
millions
of
years
ago.
I
was
about
to throw
it
away,
but
I
remembered
that
it
was
inflamable
and
bumed with
a
good
bright
flame—was,
in
fact,
an
excellent
candle—and
I
put it
in
my
pocket.
I
found
no
explosives,
however,
nor
any
means
of breaking
down
the
bronze
doors.
As
yet
my
iron
crowbar
was
the most
helpful
thing
I
had
chanced
upon.
Nevertheless
I
left
that gallery
greatly
elated.

"I
cannot
tell
you
all
the
story
of
that
long
afternoon.
It
would require
a
great
effort
of
memory
to
recall
my
explorations
in
at
all
the proper
order.
I
remember
a
long
gallery
of
rusting
stands
of
arms,
and how
I
hesitated
between
my
crowbar
and
a
hatchet
or
a
sword.
I
could not
carry
both,
however,
and
my
bar
of
iron
promised
best
against
the bronze
gates.
There
were
numbers
of
guns,
pistols,
and
rifles.
The most
were
masses
of
rust,
but
many
were
of
some
new
metal,
and still
fairly
sound.
But
any
cartridges
or
powder
there
may
once
have been
had
rotted
into
dust.
One
comer
I
saw
was
charred
and
shattered;
perhaps,
I
thought,
by
an
explosion
among
the
specimens.
In another
place
was
a
vast
array
of
idols—Polynesian,
Mexican,
Grecian, Phoenician,
every
country
on
earth
I
should
think.
And
here,
yielding to
an
irresistible
impulse,
I
wrote
my
name
upon
the
nose
of
a
steatite monster
from
South
America
that
particularly
took
my
fancy.

"As
the
evening
drew
on,
my
interest
waned.
I
went
through
gallery after
gallery,
dusty,
silent,
often
ruinous,
the
exhibits
sometimes
mere heaps
of
rust
and
lignite,
sometimes
fresher.
In
one
place
I
suddenly found
myself
near
the
model
of
a
tin-mine,
and
then
by
the
merest accident
I
discovered,
in
an
air-tight
case,
two
dynamite
cartridges! [
shouted
'Eureka!'
and
smashed
the
case
with
joy.
Then
came
a doubt.
I
hesitated.
Then,
selecting
a
little
side
gallery,
I
made
my
essay. 1
never
felt
such
a
disappointment
as
I
did
in
waiting
five,
ten,
fifteen minutes
for
an
explosion
that
never
came.
Of
course
the
things
were dummies,
as
I
might
have
guessed
from
their
presence.
I
really believe
that,
had
they
not
been
so,
I
should
have
rushed
off
incontinently
and
blown
Sphinx,
bronze
doors,
and
(as
it
proved)
my chances
of
finding
the
Time
Machine,
all
together
into
non-existence.