This studious and happy girl, like other young people, had her day-dream of the future. It was to keep a school.  This strange ambition, she tells us in her autobiography, she feared to impart to her companions, lest they should laugh at her; and she thought even her parents would think her arrogant if she mentioned it to them.  The long-cherished secret was revealed to her parents at length.  Her mother had guessed it before, but her father was exceedingly surprised.  Neither of them, however, made any objection, and one of the pleasantest apartments of their house was fitted up for the reception of pupils.  She was then a delicate-looking girl of about eighteen, and rather undersized.  As soon as her desks were brought home by the carpenter, the ambitious little lady went around to the families of the place, informed them of her intention, and solicited their patronage at the established rate of three dollars a quarter for each pupil.  She was puzzled and disappointed at the coolness with which her project was received.  Day after day she tramped the streets of Norwich, only to return at night without a name upon her catalogue.  She surmised, after a time, that parents hesitated to intrust their children to her because of her extreme youth, which was the fact.  At length, however, she began her school with two children, nine and eleven years of age, and not only did she go through all the formalities of school with them, working six hours a day for five days, and three hours on Saturday, but at the end of the term she held an examination in the presence of a large circle of her pupils’ admiring relations.

Afterwards, associating herself with another young lady, to whom she was tenderly attached, she succeeded better.  A large and populous school gathered about these zealous and admirable girls, several of their pupils being older than themselves.  Compelled to hold the school in a larger room, Lydia Huntley walked two miles every morning, and two more every night, besides working hard all day; and she was as happy as the weeks were long.  Her experience confirms that of every genuine teacher—­from Dr. Arnold downward—­that, of all employments of man or woman on this earth, the one that is capable of giving the most constant and intense happiness is teaching in a rationally conducted school.  So fond was she of teaching, that when the severity of the Winter obliged her to suspend the school for many weeks, she opened a free school for poor children, one of her favorite classes in which was composed of colored girls.  In the course of time, the well-known Daniel Wadsworth, the great man of Hartford sixty or seventy years ago, lured her away to that city, where he personally organized a school of thirty young ladies, the daughters of his friends, and gave her a home in his own house.  There she spent five happy years, cherished as a daughter by her venerable patron and his wife, and held in high honor by her pupils and their parents.