Two years passed away, and Delle’s school was continued with the greatest success; indeed, it had become _the_ child’s school of our village. You should have seen her in the school-room of her now comfortable home, amid the multitudes of youth who gathered around her, whose “young ideas” she was teaching to “shoot” in the right direction. You should have seen her in the hours when she was alone in her home with her brothers and invalid sister. How unabated was her tender and watchful care of the fragile Jane; how unceasing her efforts to secure the comfort and happiness of the poor girl; how happy she herself was when a smile and visible contentment on the part of the sufferer was returned for all her pains. You should have seen her encouraging, or mildly reproving, or joining the three light-hearted boys in their sports, who regarded her with the deference and affection they would have shown toward a parent. You should have seen her on the Sabbaths when she went with the children, whom _her_ diligence and perseverance fed and clothed, to the village church, teaching them by her example to “remember their Creator in their youth.” You should have watched her when she went with them to the church-yard, to the place where their parents were buried—a little spot which their hands had made beautiful as a garden. You should have seen Delle at such times to have rightly and fully estimated her worth. Those only who saw her and knew her in all these lights, _could_ know her truly; for as she grew nigh to womanhood, there was a dignity and reserve in her manners, resulting from the manifold trials to which she had been exposed, which made her not readily understandable to those who had not known her from childhood. Do you abominate parties? So do I. But follow me this once, ’tis a beautiful moonlight night, to yonder well-lighted mansion. I have trod through it oftentimes, and with me for your guide, there is no possible danger of losing your way. Here we are in the midst of the gay assemblage; what profusion of flowers, what pleasant voices and bright smiles, and happy hearts; and, hark! there are sounds of music and of dancing feet. Let us wander, now, through the rooms, _in spirit_, and amuse ourselves for a moment with “seeing what is to be seen,” and hearing what is to be heard; and if there be any malice in our remarks, we can keep our own secret, and not expose those “modern belles” to more ridicule than very naturally they draw forth from common, ordinary observers; nor will we say any thing _aloud_ about that nondescript sort of personage yclept a fashionable beau, whose culminated faculties emerge before the public in the shape of unmitigated _non_sense.