Finally, I came to this attitude of mind: "I will not try any more to understand any thing about these doctrines. I will not try any more to 'be convinced of sin' in this inability to love God. Something is the matter: it does not seem like obstinate 'unwillingness;' but if God says so, I will take his word for it. I will assume that He is just, and wise, and good, in spite of all that seems to contrary. I will try to do all He commands the best I can. _There must be a dreadful mistake somewhere_, but I will trust and obey, and wait quietly for light." At this time my father gave me some little hope. I knew not why, for I did not "love God" according to any of the ordinary tests. But I was encouraged to hope that my heart was "renewed," and I shortly after made a public profession of religion in my father's church. During my residence with the friends referred to, I attempted the duties of a teacher to two young daughters of the family, and, to prepare myself, for the first time set my mind to real hard study. In five weeks I went through a large Arithmetic, of which I knew almost nothing; in seven weeks I completed Day's Algebra. Two schoolbooks on Chemistry and Natural Philosophy were also mastered that gloomy winter. I had no other resource within or without for so active a mind. Then my father urged me, for the sake of a sister, as my own pecuniary wants had been provided for, to commence a school in Hartford. As I taught only half a day, and "the higher branches" were but just entering female schools, I found no difficulty in keeping sufficiently ahead of my pupils. Thus commenced my career as a teacher. I went on several years with no other evidence of "love to God," which was the main test of "regeneration," but perseverance in the determination to assume that He was wise, just, and good, and to do all I could to obey him. My great aim in life was to find out what He required from the Bible, and then to try to do it as well as I could. Besides this, I imitated the methods of Christian worthies. I kept a religious diary--read religious books--went to religious meetings--prayed in my school, and taught religion to my pupils as it had been taught to me. Often, when I found suffering young minds embarrassed by my own difficulties, willing and anxious to do all in their power, and yet unable to feel as required, I almost lived over past anguish of spirit, and could scarcely nerve myself to instruct them that all the wrong was their own "obstinate unwillingness." There was a constant conflict between the theories to which I had bowed my intellect, and thought I really believed, and the impulses of my moral nature and common sense.