The destructive discovery progressed across the ecliptic until only four planets are left in solid form. Mars may now be preparing for the last proud war and we are on the verge of a culminating discovery of the disruptive force of atomic energy. Unless something checks our rage for discovery, and war is within reasonable possibility, the whole planetary system may be blown back to chaos--and so fulfil Poe's amazing figure of the alternation from Chaos to Order and from Order to Chaos as "the systole and diastole of the heart of the Infinite." After this exhausting flight my friend faced the High Cost of Living in the form of the waiter's check, passed me a cigar that cost a dollar, and in a humble taxi we joined the whirling civilization that speeds on wheels along "the Fifth Avenue," and doubtless whiles away its idle time in discussing the war and who won it. CHAPTER XIX AN EXPERIMENT IN MODESTY One afternoon toward the end of my trip I made a mistake--for which I am now duly thankful. Through weariness, or carelessness or over-confidence or a human desire to talk frankly to somebody, I dropped my pose of the Affable Stranger and freely admitted to an American whom I had engaged in conversation that I was gathering material for a book. I also went as far as to indicate the nature of my investigations. At once he assumed an attitude of helpfulness. All that he knew about the subject of international relations was at my disposal--and he knew a surprising lot of things that were of no importance. You meet men of this kind wherever new books are discussed--or any kind of human achievement. Parasitic helpers attach themselves to every kind of work from farming to statesmanship. In fact this characteristic must be universal, for Fabre has a passage on it in his description of scarabs. When one of them finds a treasure others help him in just that way. I am being explicit on the point, for the theme of this chapter is modesty as it affects the relations between countries. Being somewhat modest in my claims to modesty I feel competent to discuss the matter with the necessary intellectual aloofness. "The trouble with Canadians," said the candid and helpful American, "is that they are too cocky!" That made me tingle to my last pin-feather, but fortunately I am of Scotch ancestry and the obvious witty retort did not flash back instantly. In fact I was rather dazed, but somewhere deep down in my consciousness I felt the need of taking the criticism in a friendly spirit, for if a man starts out to promote harmonious relations he must not be quick to take offence. Not knowing what else to do I smiled affably, which was quite in keeping with the rôle I was playing. Evidently my smile had the proper blend of modesty and humble enquiry, for my mentor at once fluffed up his feathers and proceeded: "As a matter of fact we get along much better with the English than we do with you."