算命是我国从古代流传至今的一种传统文化，我们所说的算命是民间俗称，学术上的专业称谓叫预测，研究算命的学术叫易学、也叫术数。
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占测这门类玄学在中国历史上源远流长，其起源有据可考可追溯到最早的伏羲氏，之后周文王演八卦，则算命开始逐步得以发展，具体的发展过程比较漫长，每一代都有或多或少的贡献。“算命”是将中国传统易学文化中的“天人合一”原理应用于预测人生轨迹变化规律的方法。术数家用人出生的“年、月、日、时”按天干、地支依次排列成四个柱八个字（称为“四柱八字”），再用所排的干支所属五行生克推算人的命运，断定人的吉凶祸福。易学在中国历史上源远流长，据中国之声《新闻晚高峰》报道，算命或起于先秦，当古埃及人用纸草记事、古巴比伦人以泥版为书时，中国的古人劈竹成篾，削薄打磨、火烤编连，将最鲜活的史实书于竹简，传遗后世。算命的起源大约可以追溯到夏商时期，从出土的甲骨文大多是卜辞这一点可以得到印证，那时候的人们在举行婚嫁、征伐、祭祀等重大事情之前，都会烧龟甲或演蓍草对该事进行虔诚的卜筮，借此判断吉凶，这大抵是早期算命术的萌芽。到了周朝时期，周文王、周公等人在前人经验的基础上整理成书，取名为《周易》，才把卜筮之术上升到理论层面。人们对命运的大胆探索及阴阳五行学说的确立是在春秋时期，再到东汉王充禀气说的创立，使中国的命学理论有了明确的哲学根基，逐渐形成了一套有理论、有方法的卜卦算命系统，之后则算命开始逐步得以发展，具体的发展过程比较漫长。
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算命以《易经》为根基、以阴阳五行体系为理论依据，其中《易经》有“三易”，包括《连山》、《归藏》、《周易》三部易书，内容极其丰富，对中国几千年来的政治、经济、文化等各个领域都产生了极其深刻的影响。是阐述天地世间关于万象变化的古老经典，是博大精深的辩证法哲学书，是中国传统思想文化中自然哲学与人文实践的理论根源，是古代汉民族思想、智慧的结晶，被誉为“大道之源”。
算命作为一门探究人类命运的学问，不乏对其感兴趣之人，有名的算命大师也有不少，唐代有李虚中、李淳风、袁天罡等，五代有徐居易，宋有徐子平、僧道洪，元有徐大升，明有刘伯温，清有沈孝瞻、陈素庵，民国有韦千里、袁树珊、任铁樵，现代有邵伟华，李居明，秦阳明等。更有许先潮盲派八字理论，盲派快速算命秘诀，金口铁断算命秘要等。
在古代算命通常是一种利用个人切身资讯，例如脸与手的纹路，出生八字、姓名笔划等配合术数来预测或判断命运吉凶福祸并且寻求指点迷津的行为亦称指迷算命。千百年来，经过人们的不断发展与完善，已经形成了一套较为完善的理论体系，而且已深深地扎根与人们的心灵中，经久不衰，显示了强大的生命力。
超过100000+人测算，都说特别准！
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以下是西方算卦英文版
For a moment I heeded nothing of the heat, forgot the patent need of self-preservation. I splashed through the tumultuous water, pushing aside a man in black to do so, until I could see round the bend. Half a dozen deserted boats pitched aimlessly upon the confusion of the waves. The fallen Martian came into sight downstream, lying across the river, and for the most part submerged.
Thick clouds of steam were pouring off the wreckage, and through the tumultuously whirling wisps I could see, intermittently and vaguely, the gigantic limbs churning the water and flinging a splash and spray of mud and froth into the air. The tentacles swayed and struck like living arms, and, save for the helpless purposelessness of these movements, it was as if some wounded thing were struggling for its life amid the waves. Enormous quantities of a ruddy-brown fluid were spurting up in noisy jets out of the machine.
My attention was diverted from this death flurry by a furious yelling, like that of the thing called a siren in our manufacturing towns. A man, knee-deep near the towing path, shouted inaudibly to me and pointed. Looking back, I saw the other Martians advancing with gigantic strides down the riverbank from the direction of Chertsey. The Shepperton guns spoke this time unavailingly.
At that I ducked at once under water, and, holding my breath until movement was an agony, blundered painfully ahead under the surface as long as I could. The water was in a tumult about me, and rapidly growing hotter.
When for a moment I raised my head to take breath and throw the hair and water from my eyes, the steam was rising in a whirling white fog that at first hid the Martians altogether. The noise was deafening. Then I saw them dimly, colossal figures of grey, magnified by the mist. They had passed by me, and two were stooping over the frothing, tumultuous ruins of their comrade.
The third and fourth stood beside him in the water, one perhaps two hundreds yards from me, the other towards Laleham. The generators of the Heat-Rays waved high, and the hissing beams smote down this way and that.
The air was full of sound, a deafening and confusing conflict of noises—the clangorous din of the Martians, the crash of falling houses, the thud of trees, fences, sheds flashing into flame, and the crackling and roaring of fire. Dense black smoke was leaping up to mingle with the steam from the river, and as the Heat-Ray went to and fro over Weybridge its impact was marked by flashes of incandescent white, that gave place at once to a smoky dance of lurid flames. The nearer houses still stood intact, awaiting their fate, shadowy, faint, and pallid in the steam, with the fire behind them going to and fro.
For a moment perhaps I stood there, breast-high in the almost boiling water, dumbfounded at my position, hopeless of escape. Through the reek I could see the people who had been with me in the river scrambling out of the water through the reeds, like little frogs hurrying through grass from the advance of a man, or running to and fro in utter dismay on the towing path.
Then suddenly the white flashes of the Heat-Ray came leaping towards me. The houses caved in as they dissolved at its touch, and darted out flames; the trees changed to fire with a roar. The Ray flickered up and down the towing path, licking off the people who ran this way and that, and came down to the water’s edge not fifty yards from where I stood. It swept across the river to Shepperton, and the water in its track rose in a boiling weal crested with steam. I turned shoreward.
In another moment the huge wave, well-nigh at the boiling-point, had rushed upon me. I screamed aloud, and scalded, half blinded, agonised, I staggered through the leaping, hissing water towards the shore. Had my foot stumbled, it would have been the end. I fell helplessly, in full sight of the Martians, upon the broad, bare gravelly spit that runs down to mark the angle of the Wey and Thames. I expected nothing but death.
I have a dim memory of the foot of a Martian coming down within a score of yards of my head, driving straight into the loose gravel, whirling it this way and that, and lifting again; of a long suspense, and then of the four carrying the debris of their comrade between them, now clear and presently faint through a veil of smoke, receding interminably, as it seemed to me, across a vast space of river and meadow. And then, very slowly, I realised that by a miracle I had escaped.
Chapter 13
How I Fell in with the Curate
AFTER GETTING THIS SUDDEN lesson in the power of terrestrial weapons, the Martians retreated to their original position upon Horsell Common; and in their haste, and encumbered with the debris of their smashed companion, they no doubt overlooked many such a stray and negligible victim as myself. Had they left their comrade and pushed on forthwith, there was nothing at that time between them and London but batteries of twelve-pounder guns, and they would certainly have reached the capital in advance of the tidings of their approach; as sudden, dreadful, and destructive their advent would have been as the earthquake that destroyed Lisbon a century ago.24
But they were in no hurry. Cylinder followed cylinder on its interplanetary flight; every twenty-four hours brought them reinforcement. And meanwhile the military and naval authorities, now fully alive to the tremendous power of their antagonists, worked with furious energy. Every minute a fresh gun came into position until, before twilight, every copse, every row of suburban villas on the hilly slopes about Kingston and Richmond, masked an expectant black muzzle. And through the charred and desolated area—perhaps twenty square miles altogether—that encircled the Martian encampment on Horsell Common, through charred and ruined villages among the green trees, through the blackened and smoking arcades that had been but a day ago pine spinneys,cf crawled the devoted scouts with the heliographs that were presently to warn the gunners of the Martian approach. But the Martians now understood our command of artillery and the danger of human proximity, and not a man ventured within a mile of either cylinder, save at the price of his life.
It would seem that these giants spent the earlier part of the afternoon in going to and fro, transferring everything from the second and third cylinders—the second in Addlestone Golf links and the third at Pyrford—to their original pit on Horsell Common. Over that, above the blackened heather and ruined buildings that stretched far and wide, stood one as sentinel, while the rest abandoned their vast fighting-machines and descended into the pit. They were hard at work there far into the night, and the towering pillar of dense green smoke that rose therefrom could be seen from the hills about Merrow, and even, it is said, from Banstead and Epsom Downs.cg
And while the Martians behind me were thus preparing for their next sally, and in front of the Humanity gathered for the battle, I made my way with infinite pains and labour from the fire and smoke of burning Weybridge towards London.
I saw an abandoned boat, very small and remote, drifting downstream; and throwing off the most of my sodden clothes, I went after it, gained it, and so escaped out of that destruction. There were no oars in the boat, but I contrived to paddle, as well as my parboiled hands would allow, down the river towards Halliford and Walton,ch going very tediously and continually looking behind me, as you may well understand. I followed the river, because I considered that the water gave me my best chance to escape should these giants return.
The hot water from the Martian’s overthrow drifted downstream with me, so that for the best part of a mile I could see little of either bank. Once, however, I made out a string of black figures hurrying across the meadows from the direction of Weybridge. Halliford, it seemed, was deserted, and several of the houses facing the river were on fire. It was strange to see the place quite tranquil, quite desolate under the hot, blue sky, with the smoke and little threads of flame going straight up into the heat of the afternoon. Never before had I seen houses burning without the accompaniment of an obstructive crowd. A little farther on the dry reeds up the bank were smoking and glowing, and a line of fire inland was marching steadily across a late field of hay.
For a long time I drifted, so painful and weary was I after the violence I had been through, and so intense the heat upon the water. Then my fears got the better of me again, and I resumed my paddling. The sun scorched my bare back. At last, as the bridge at Walton was coming into sight round the bend, my fever and faintness overcame my fears, and I landed on the Middlesexci bank and lay down, deadly sick, amid the long grass. I suppose the time was then about four or five o’clock. I got up presently, walked perhaps half a mile without meeting a soul, and then lay down again in the shadow of a hedge. I seem to remember talking, wanderingly, to myself during that last spurt. I was also very thirsty, and bitterly regretful I had drunk no more water. It is a curious thing that I felt angry with my wife; I cannot account for it, but my impotent desire to reach Leatherhead worried me excessively.
I do not clearly remember the arrival of the curate,cj so that probably I dozed. I became aware of him as a seated figure in soot-smudged shirt sleeves, and with his upturned, clean-shaven face staring at a faint flickering that danced over the sky. The sky was what is called a mackerel sky—rows and rows of faint down-plumes of cloud, just tinted with the midsummer sunset.
I sat up, and at the rustle of my motion he looked at me quickly.
“Have you any water?” I asked abruptly.
“What does it mean?” he said. “What do these things mean?”25
I stared at him and made no answer.
He extended a thin white hand and spoke in almost a complaining tone.
“Why are these things permitted? What sins have we done? The morning service was over, I was walking through the roads to clear my brain for the afternoon, and then—fire, earthquake, death! As if it were Sodom and Gomorrah!ck All our work undone, all the work—What are these Martians?”
“What are we?” I answered, clearing my throat.
He gripped his knees and turned to look at me again. For half a minute, perhaps, he stared silently.
“I was walking through the roads to clear my brain,” he said. “And suddenly—fire, earthquake, death!”
He relapsed into silence, with his chin now sunken almost to his knees.
Presently he began waving his hand.
“All the work—all the Sunday schools—What have we done—what has Weybridge done? Everything gone—everything destroyed. The church! We rebuilt it only three years ago. Gone! Swept out of existence! Why?”
Another pause, and he broke out again like one demented.
“The smoke of her burning goeth up for ever and ever!”cl he shouted.
His eyes flamed, and he pointed a lean finger in the direction of Weybridge.
By this time I was beginning to take his measure. The tremendous tragedy in which he had been involved—it was evident he was a fugitive from Weybridge—had driven him to the very verge of his reason.
“Are we far from Sunbury?”cm I said, in a matter-of-fact tone.
“What are we to do?” he asked. “Are these creatures everywhere? Has the earth been given over to them?”
“Are we far from Sunbury?”
“only this morning I officiated at early celebration—”
“Things have changed,” I said, quietly. “You must keep your head. There is still hope.”
“Hope!”
“Yes. Plentiful hope—for all this destruction!”
I began to explain my view of our position. He listened at first, but as I went on the interest dawning in his eyes gave place to their former stare, and his regard wandered from me.
“This must be the beginning of the end,” he said, interrupting me. “The end! The great and terrible day of the Lord! When men shall call upon the mountains and the rocks to fall upon them and hide them—hide them from the face of Him that sitteth upon the throne!”
I began to understand the position. I ceased my laboured reasoning, struggled to my feet, and, standing over him, laid my hand on his shoulder.
“Be a man!” said I. “You are scared out of your wits! What good is religion if it collapses under calamity? Think of what earthquakes and floods, wars and volcanoes, have done before to men! Did you think God had exempted Weybridge? He is not an insurance agent.“26
For a time he sat in blank silence.
“But how can we escape?” he asked, suddenly. “They are invulnerable, they are pitiless.”
“Neither the one nor, perhaps, the other,” I answered. “And the mightier they are the more sane and wary should we be. One of them was killed yonder not three hours ago.”
“Killed!” he said, staring about him. “How can God’s ministers be killed?”
“I saw it happen.” I proceeded to tell him. “We have chanced to come in for the thick of it,” said I, “and that is all.”
“What is that flicker in the sky?” he asked abruptly.
I told him it was the heliograph signalling—that it was the sign of human help and effort in the sky.
“We are in the midst of it,” I said, “quiet as it is. That flicker in the sky tells of the gathering storm. Yonder, I take it, are the Martians, and Londonward, where those hills rise about Richmond and Kingston and the trees give cover, earthworks are being thrown up and guns are being placed. Presently the Martians will be coming this way again.”
And even as I spoke he sprang to his feet and stopped me by a gesture.
“Listen!” he said.
From beyond the low hills across the water came the dull resonance of distant guns and a remote weird crying. Then everything was still. A cockchafercn came droning over the hedge and past us. High in the west the crescent moon hung faint and pale above the smoke of Weybridge and Shepperton and the hot, still splendour of the sunset.
“We had better follow this path,” I said, “northward.”
Chapter 14
In London
MY YOUNGER BROTHER WAS in London when the Martians fell at Woking. He was a medical student, working for an imminent examination, and he heard nothing of the arrival until Saturday morning. The morning papers on Saturday contained, in addition to lengthy special articles on the planet Mars, on life in the planets, and so forth, a brief and vaguely worded telegram, all the more striking for its brevity.
The Martians, alarmed by the approach of a crowd, had killed a number of people with a quick-firing gun, so the story ran. The telegram concluded with the words: “Formidable as they seem to be, the Martians have not moved from the pit into which they have fallen, and, indeed, seem incapable of doing so. Probably this is due to the relative strength of the earth’s gravitational energy.” On that last text their leader-writer expanded very comfortingly.
He shook his head.
“You have been asking for water for the last hour,” he said.
For a moment we were silent, taking stock of each other. I dare say he found me a strange enough figure, naked, save for my water-soaked trousers and socks, scalded, and my face and shoulders blackened by the smoke. His face was a fair weakness, his chin retreated, and his hair lay in crisp, almost flaxen curls on his low forehead; his eyes were rather large, pale blue, and blankly staring. He spoke abruptly, looking vacantly away from me.
