There is some clash of opinion as to the exact hour of the great awakening.  It is generally agreed that, apart from the difference of clocks, there may have been local causes which influenced the action of the poison.  Certainly, in each separate district the resurrection was practically simultaneous.  There are numerous witnesses that Big Ben pointed to ten minutes past six at the moment.  The Astronomer Royal has fixed the Greenwich time at twelve past six.  On the other hand, Laird Johnson, a very capable East Anglia observer, has recorded six-twenty as the hour.  In the Hebrides it was as late as seven.  In our own case there can be no doubt whatever, for I was seated in Challenger’s study with his carefully tested chronometer in front of me at the moment.  The hour was a quarter-past six.

An enormous depression was weighing upon my spirits.  The cumulative effect of all the dreadful sights which we had seen upon our journey was heavy upon my soul.  With my abounding animal health and great physical energy any kind of mental clouding was a rare event.  I had the Irish faculty of seeing some gleam of humor in every darkness.  But now the obscurity was appalling and unrelieved.  The others were downstairs making their plans for the future.  I sat by the open window, my chin resting upon my hand and my mind absorbed in the misery of our situation.  Could we continue to live?  That was the question which I had begun to ask myself.  Was it possible to exist upon a dead world?  Just as in physics the greater body draws to itself the lesser, would we not feel an overpowering attraction from that vast body of humanity which had passed into the unknown?  How would the end come?  Would it be from a return of the poison?  Or would the earth be uninhabitable from the mephitic products of universal decay?  Or, finally, might our awful situation prey upon and unbalance our minds?  A group of insane folk upon a dead world!  My mind was brooding upon this last dreadful idea when some slight noise caused me to look down upon the road beneath me.  The old cab horse was coming up the hill!

I was conscious at the same instant of the twittering of birds, of someone coughing in the yard below, and of a background of movement in the landscape.  And yet I remember that it was that absurd, emaciated, superannuated cab-horse which held my gaze.  Slowly and wheezily it was climbing the slope.  Then my eye traveled to the driver sitting hunched up upon the box and finally to the young man who was leaning out of the window in some excitement and shouting a direction.  They were all indubitably, aggressively alive!