There was a serious difficulty among some of the most prominent members and families which threatened the destruction of the society. Various attempts had been made to settle it, but all to no purpose; the storm still raged. My colleague, Thomas Everhard, tried, but it was labor in vain. I resolved, as the charge then devolved on me, in the name of the God of peace to try and settle the affair. I knew that if we did not it would destroy that Church root and branch, and that “Ichabod” would soon be written upon the deserted wall of their sanctuary. When I came round I found the society all at logger-heads. It was a perfect Babel. I was young in the ministry, and greatly exercised to know how to restore peace. I preached, and the society came together afterward, and each opened his budget of grievances. And after searching into the origin of the difficulty, I found it was much ado about nothing. It commenced with evil surmising, and this led to evil words. My impression was it could never be settled in the ordinary way, for there was nothing definite; there were no tangible points. I then told them I had a plan for disposing of the whole matter at once. I told them my plan was that all should agree to settle the difficulty at once and forever by burying it very deep. Both parties with tears agreed to it. We dug its grave deep, we buried it, and then prayed that it might never have a resurrection. There was not a single mourner at the funeral, but a general rejoicing. I invited all who were in favor of burying it and living hereafter in Christian fellowship to rise. They all stood up; tears flowed freely; they embraced and forgave each other. Best of all, it stayed settled. They did not in burying the hatchet leave the handle sticking out so that they could get hold of it and renew the war, but buried handle and all. The old people have been gathered to their fathers. They lived and died in peace and harmony, and to this day their children and children’s children bless me. I saw one of the sons years after, and he spoke with gratitude of the day when that old difficulty was buried, and when Zion became a quiet habitation. This was at Supplee’s Chapel, the oldest Methodist house of worship in Pennsylvania except St. George’s. Joseph Pilmoor early preached here. The Supplees also heard Captain Webb. Abraham Supplee was a local preacher. I was often his guest. This chapel was used as a hospital for our sick and wounded soldiers after the battle of Germantown, and a number of the soldiers died and were buried here. Several of the officers made Abraham Supplee’s house their home. Washington was often there, having his headquarters in the neighborhood. It was an old stone chapel, and was afterward called Bethel. Many of our early chapels were built of stone, which was abundant, cheap, and durable. Indeed, the first Methodist chapel in America was built of stone, namely, Wesley Chapel in New York. CHAPTER X. SHORT TOUR WITH BISHOP ASBURY, 1803.