Ah, the man or the woman who has had that look will feel very differently ever afterward! A humbleness of spirit; a sense of our own infinite unimportance in the great plan of the Universe! The traveler broadens; it is only the man who revolves his mind in its own humdrum little rut who thinks that he and what he stands for is the sum-total of real importance and goodness in the Universe! What differs from himself, from his own standards of thought and living, he thinks must of necessity be inferior. The traveler knows it is not so. Distant places, distant worlds, distant people--are different. Not necessarily worse. Other races have different standards, different modes of thought from our own; not better perhaps; not worse--just different. Our earth poet once wrote: "Though patriotism flatter, still shall wisdom find an equal portion dealt to all mankind." The traveler knows that it is true. I come now to that time when in our tiny voyaging world we found ourselves, according to Freddie's calculations, at a distance of no more than two hundred and fifty thousand miles from Xenephrene. As close as our own moon is to the earth. Our vehicle had turned over soon after starting. The earth lay in the star-field above us--a glittering red-white point, not very different from a million others! Beneath us, seen through the lower window, we were falling toward Xenephrene. It hung there amid the stars; to the naked eye now it was a tremendous, moon-like crescent. Purple-red on its lighted area. The shadowed part of its circle could be faintly seen--a dull-red shadow. We sat in the lower compartment, Freddie, as usual, by his table, with Dan and me beside him. Freddie was thoroughly rested now. At the start he had worn himself to the verge of exhaustion. But once we were well away from earth he found confidence in the verified correctness of his calculations. We were upon our course. All was going well; and to our voyage, with the novelty dulling, came that monotony which is the chief characteristic of Space-travel. There was little to do, save sleep, prepare our meals, and keep watch that no asteroid or meteor crossed our path with dangerous nearness. Freddie's calculations were, from then on, his only labor. Dan and I did the rest. We sat now with Freddie, who had called to us. The quarter of a million mile point from Xenephrene was an objective to which we all three had looked forward with keenest interest. "We're there," called Freddie. We came down to find him with sparkling eyes and flushed face. "Two hundred and fifty thousand eight hundred odd miles." He shoved his papers away from him. "I brought us, didn't I? I did it!" We clapped him on the back. We all felt as though the Rubicon were crossed. "Now," said Freddie, "we can open Professor Vanderstuyft's last instruction sheet."