He then proceeded to relate the particulars of the interview; to which the clergyman listened with evident astonishment. When the communication was finished, he said, "I don't know who this man is, or how he has obtained information on this subject; but certain it is, he has repeated, word for word, a conversation which I supposed was known only to myself and the deceased." The woman in question had gone out in the fields one day, with her infant in her arms, and she returned without it. She said she had laid it down on a heap of dry leaves, while she went to pick a few flowers; and when she returned, the baby was gone. The fields and woods were searched in vain, and neighbors began to whisper that she had committed infanticide. Then rumors arose that she was dissatisfied with her marriage; that her heart remained with a young man to whom she was previously engaged; and that her brain was affected by this secret unhappiness. She was never publicly accused; partly because there was no evidence against her, and partly because it was supposed that if she did commit the crime, it must have been owing to aberration of mind. But she became aware of the whisperings against her, and the consciousness of being an object of suspicion, combined with the mysterious disappearance of her child, cast a heavy cloud over her life, and made her appear more and more unlike her former self. This she confided to her clergyman, in the interview shortly preceding her death; and she likewise told him that the young man, to whom she had been engaged, had never forgiven her for not marrying him. A few weeks after her decease, this young man confessed that he had stolen the babe. He had followed the mother, unobserved by her, and had seen her lay the sleeping infant on its bed of leaves. As he gazed upon it, a mingled feeling of jealousy and revenge took possession of his soul. In obedience to a sudden impulse, he seized the babe, and carried it off hastily. He subsequently conveyed it to a distant village, and placed it out to nurse, under an assumed name and history. The child was found alive and well, at the place he indicated. Thus the mother's innocence was made clearly manifest to the world, as the Quaker preacher had predicted at her funeral. I often heard Friend Hopper relate this anecdote, and he always said that he could vouch for the truth of it; and for several other similar things in connection with the ministry of his friend Arthur. A singular case of inward perception likewise occurred in the experience of his own mother. In her Diary, which is still preserved in the family, she describes a visit to some of her children in Philadelphia, and adds: "Soon after this, the Lord showed me that I should lose a son. It was often told me, though without sound of words. Nothing could be more intelligible than this still, small voice. It said, Thou wilt lose a son; and he is a pleasant child."