My name is Martin Jackson. I am about to describe a journey so weird that, even now, thirty years afterwards, I cannot arrive at a reasonable answer to the phenomenal happenings that I experienced. It was in the year 1876. 1 was then only nineteen. It was a dry but cold October day on which myself and my brother, Roger, were making our way to an old uncle of ours, Uncle Quentin. He had what he called a scientific brain. He was a kind, if rather eccentric old man. He was often muttering about the day when he would invent something that would shock the world. Of course, nobody believed him. We knocked at the door of his large house. He lived by himself, so it was he who opened the door. He greeted us in his usual kindly manner. Then he said, “I’ve asked you round, lads, to do something very important for me. It’s about a new machine of mine. In short, it has powers that I alone devised, to convey a person into the past. I want you to try it out for me. We looked at him as if he were mad. How could an old man like he make such a machine. We were about to refuse, when we remembered his many kindnesses to us. What would be wrong if we gave this old man some pleasure? He received very few in his old age. So we agreed. Of course we thought that nothing at all could happen. How wrong we were!

Uncle Quentin was delighted. “Come into my lab., boys,” he said, smiling. We walked across the large room that uncle had converted into a laboratory. Here and there lay many strange objects. But the object that attracted our attention and to which our uncle was walking towards, was a large, black, spherical object. It had many levers on its side. “Here is my little gem,” said the old man. “You have the great honour of trying it out first.” We got into the machine through a small door at the side. “Well, as you are trying it out first, where would you like to go in the Past,” said uncle. It did not matter much to us where we wanted to go. We thought this machine would never take us there anyway. “Oh, we’ll go back to the Roman invasion of Britain, before the birth of Christ,” said Roger gaily. “Right you are, boys. Hold tight!” The door slammed shut, and we heard him push a lever. A shuddering began. We thought it was one of the old man’s jokes, and that part of the floor was shaking. After about five minutes, we shouted, “Let us out, uncle!” We had decided we had had enough of this shaking. The machine suddenly came to a stop.

We smiled, and opened the door, expecting to see our uncle. But the smile was wiped off our faces the next moment. For we were not in our uncle’s laboratory. We were on a heath, with purple heather all around us, and the wind blowing in our faces. We were in the Past.

We climbed out of the machine, too dazed to speak. We did not recognize the spot. We lived in London. There was no sign of the great City of London here. What were we to do? We looked at the levers at the side. We saw one under, “The Roman Conquest, BC” pressed. That was the lever uncle must have pressed. Then we looked for some indication of getting back to our time. After a long search we found a lever marked “1876, AD”. Now we knew how to go back. Roger wanted to return straight away. But I wanted to linger awhile. Perhaps we should see some signs of life. So, notwithstanding the cold, we walked for a little way across the moor. But then we came to a halt. All around us was the moor, with nothing to be seen on the horizon. We decided to go back to our own time. But before we had reached very far, we saw riders coning over the crest of a hill on our left. Even at a distance, we could see that they had long flowing beards. They were dressed like Ancient Britons. They rode up to us. One, a giant of almost seven foot, who appeared to be the leader, dismounted. He advanced towards us, and gave us a minute’s scrutiny. Then without a word, he signalled to us to mount up behind two of his men. We obeyed. He then gave the signal to ride off. We rode for a long time, but at last, we saw a village ahead. The men were met by a tall man with a white beard, with long flowing robes. He looked like one of the ancient druids. The leader of our band and the druid spoke for a while. We knew we were the subject, because they kept looking in our direction. But, at last, we were taken to one of the huts and left there, alone.

It was warmer inside the hut. We remarked that it was well made. We also noticed that there was a certain air of discontent among the villagers. Whether it was about us, or possibly about the Romans, we did not know. We were left in this hut for some time. Then, attracted by the noise of many voices outside, I ventured to look out. The first thing that made my heart leap suddenly was a huge stone in the centre of the camp. Around it were many druids while the members of the camp were ringed respectfully on the outskirts, looking on. Suddenly, a group of men stood and came towards our hut. I had barely time to warn my brother, when they entered and seized us. We were dragged outside and taken towards the stone. There were faggots around the, stone, and tribesmen stood by with lighted torches. We were pushed into the stone and some druids tied us down. We were to be sacrificed. We were growing very fearful. The druids had begun to chant. Suddenly it stopped. The chief of the druids advanced towards us with a large sword. We were to be killed and then burnt as a sacrifice to one of their infernal pagan gods. In that moment, I wished that we had never gone inside that machine. Now we know that this was reality, that uncle was right. It could take us into the Past. We knew to our cost. The druid raised the sword. But suddenly, a great shouting broke forth. The druid, holding the sword aloft, became transfixed. He just stared ahead of him. We saw, with a thrill, that he had an arrow in his head! The same word broke forth from our lips at the same moment – “Romans!”. It was indeed a Roman attack. We started to rub our tied wrists against the sharp edge of the stone. After a time, our pains were rewarded. The ropes broke. But our wrists were dreadfully cut. We freed our feet and sprang down from the stone. We found two horses, mounted, and rode them out of the village, where the fight was raging. We made the moor, and turned to look at the fighting. The Romans had gained the upper hand, and, what was more, some of them were coming after us! Luckily, we knew the direction to go to where we had left the machine. Our horses must have been fresher than the Romans’, for, although we do not claim to be horse riders, we soon lost sight of the pursuing soldiers, and soon afterwards, came across our machine. We jumped off the noble beasts and ran towards our machine. We pushed the lever down to the present and had just time to scramble in, before the shuddering began again. After about five minutes, it stopped. We opened the door and found ourselves in our uncle’s laboratory again.

The old man greeted us with tears in his eyes. He had been really worried, for we had been gone for three hours. We told him of all that had happened to us. The adventures had shocked us. They left a great impression on us. As I said, I cannot find a reasonable explanation of this machine, and what it brought to us. Uncle never shocked the world with his machine. He destroyed it, for it left as much of an impression on him as it had on us. I will never forget about our terrible experience in the Past.