with Indian traditions, and particularly with the etymology of its languages, shows that this also is a great delusion. The more learned missionaries are now not only agreed that a general creator or upholder never existed in aboriginal cosmogony, but that the much simpler belief in a superhuman Great Chief or ruler is a modern graft. However unpleasant, from a sentimental point of view, Colonel Mallery has done good service by his researches in abolishing beliefs which are so unfounded, and some of which are apt to be mischievous in their consequences.
THE ART OF GOING AWAY.
We have heard it said that one of the most important social accomplishments is that of entering a room gracefully; but to our mind that of leaving one easily and judiciously is to be preferred. It is painful to see people anxious to beat a retreat from a call or visit, and yet apparently as unable to escape as rats in a trap, although nothing bars their egress, and all persons concerned would gladly dispense with their company. The art or science of departure both from localities and positions is worth studying in great as well as little matters. To understand when to bring to an end a morning call or a public career requires, in a lesser or greater degree, the exercise of the same faculty. No visitor is likely to be popular who has not the tact to leave at the proper time a house at which he may be staying; and no prime minister understands his business unless he recognizes the exact moment at which he ought to tender his resignation. Many cases at once present themselves to the mind in which the judicious exercise of the faculty of bringing things to a conclusion is necessary. It is one of the greatest merits of a novelist to know when to wind up his story, and the orator who can sit down at the right moment and in the right way is master of a good half of his art. Preachers sometimes complain that their greatest difficulty is that of concluding their sermons; but in this particular case there is little need for the exercise of any special ingenuity, as an abrupt but early ending is the fault, of all others, which is most readily pardoned by their hearers.
A bulky treatise might be written upon this subject if we had no scruple about violating our own precepts, but we only propose to look at it in some of its social phases. We will not enlarge upon the advisableness of moderation in the length of morning calls, because we lately treated this matter in some detail; and to write an essay instructing people how to get away from their friends would be about as useful as an attempt to teach riding by means of a book. It would of course be easy to multiply palpable truisms on the subject, after the manner of the writer on etiquette who observed that it was ungenteel to blow your nose with your table napkin. We might, for instance, point out that it is unnecessary for a nervous bore who has paid a call lasting three-quarters of an hour to announce his withdrawal by observing that he "fears he must go;" for his host would probably mentally reply, in the words of Sir Walter Scott, "Sinful brother, part in peace." Or we might inveigh against the habit to which some ladies are addicted, of waiting to say an interminable quantity of last words after they have risen to leave; but we have come to the conclusion that the regeneration of mankind on these matters is quite hopeless. Although, however, we have little expectation that the virtue of early departure will ever become common, we may point out the popularity of such a proceeding. It is often a doubtful question whether people will be much gratified by one's arrival, but it is almost always certain that they will be secretly glad at one's departure. At any rate, nobody suffers in the estimation of his friends by leaving them with an appetite for his society.
Few people have more or better opportunities of observing the idiosyncrasies of mankind in this matter than owners of country houses. It is often amusing to notice the various methods of intimating an exit which are adopted by different persons in any houseful of guests. Some will try to break the distressing news gently, as if they were afraid it would overwhelm us with grief, expressing their fears that they "really must go" on such or such a day, probably a later day than they were expected to remain; and it is lucky if the unavoidable regrets expressed by their entertainer do not call forth a reply that they "will do their best to stay a little longer." Others hint indirectly that they are going to deprive you of the pleasure of their company by inquiring where they may obtain flys; while some, on the other hand, say not a word till the carriage is at the door to take them away. Between ignorance as to when some of the guests intend to leave and the sudden departure of others,
