WILLIAM JESSOP was a tall man, with a prominent nose and a very grave countenance. I knew him intimately, and heard him preach often. He joined the traveling connection in 1784, the year in which the Methodist Episcopal Church was organized. Mr. Jessop occupied prominent appointments. In 1790 he was stationed in New York, and the next year volunteered to go to Nova Scotia. He died of consumption in the latter part of 1795, and was buried in the graveyard connected with Boehm’s Chapel. His last sermon was on the sufferings of Christ, and was one of the most melting I ever heard. He was reduced almost to a skeleton; his face was pale, his eye sunken and glassy, his voice sepulchral, his countenance grave, and his manner solemn as eternity. The preacher and his auditors felt that his days were numbered. A few days after he died in triumph, exclaiming, “My work is done! Glory, glory!” He expired at Strasburg, at the house of John Miller, who was a brother of Simon the preacher. This family were great friends of the preachers. They nursed them when sick, and when dying they smoothed their pillow. John and Simon Miller helped to give character and stability to Methodism in that region. Mr. Jessop, knowing he could not survive long, sent to Bishop Asbury requesting him to preach his funeral sermon. The bishop complied, and preached it at Boehm’s Chapel. He says in his journal: “I had my difficulties in speaking of a man so well known and so much beloved. He was always solemn, and few such holy, steady men have we found among us.” MICHAEL H. R. WILSON visited Lancaster County, and fell at his post while the dew of his youth was upon him. He was from Maryland, and only twenty-eight years old when he died, on April 24, 1798. He finished his course with joy at John Miller’s, in Strasburg, in the same room where William Jessop had expired three years before, and they were both interred in the same ground. But time would fail to tell of Caleb Boyer, John Bloodgood, John M’Claskey, Joseph Cromwell, John Haggerty, and others, from whom I heard the Gospel, and to whom I am indebted for my Methodism. These were the pioneers in the great work of introducing Methodism into Lancaster County. Bishop Asbury early visited my father’s house. In July, 1799, he came there with Jesse Lee, who was then his traveling companion. They both preached at Boehm’s Chapel; the bishop from Heb. vi, 12, Mr. Lee from Isa. xxx, 31. The latter wandered among the tombs, and stood by the grave of William Jessop, whom he greatly loved, and wept there, and then rejoiced for his triumphant death and the consoling thought that “them that sleep in Jesus will God bring with him.” Reluctantly turning away from the grave with his eyes moist with tears, he offered the prayer that has been repeated a thousand times: “Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his.”