"All that communes."
"And do not all commune?"
"Yes, without they feel that they have something against another. Now if I feel that I have something against her—placing her hand upon a sister.
"I understand," interrupted I. "'If thou bring thy gift to the altar—' And how many," I continued, "will there be in such a meeting as this that will not commune? Will there be half a dozen?"
"Oh yes; but by another year all will likely be right, and then they will commune. Now, I did not commune nor have my feet washed."
"Why not?" said I.
"Why, I felt at this time such confusion of mind, as if the Enemy was against me—"
"Well, it was not anything against a brother or sister?"
"No, I count them all ahead of me: I count myself the poorest member."
At the conclusion of the feet-washing a hymn was sung. Among those who had their feet washed was a young man apparently about twenty-two, and who looked full of fun. It seems that even such may be in membership with so strict a sect. It was about one o'clock when the meeting ended, having been in session four hours and a half.