A Martian came across the fields about midday, laying the stuff
with a jet of superheated steam that hissed against the walls, smashed
all the windows it touched, and scalded the curate's hand as he fled
out of the front room.  When at last we crept across the sodden rooms
and looked out again, the country northward was as though a black
snowstorm had passed over it.  Looking towards the river, we were
astonished to see an unaccountable redness mingling with the black of
the scorched meadows.