seven o'clock
`` Nope ! '' `` What kind of a time y ' havin ' over here , any way ? '' `` A mighty solumn time , '' somebody would reply with a low laugh . By seven o'clock every inch of space was occupied ; the air was frightful . The kerosene lamps gave off gas and smoke , the huge stove roared itself into an angry red on its jack-oak grubs , and still people crowded in at the door . Discussion waxed hot as the stove ; two or three Universalists boldly attacked everybody who came their way . A tall man stood on a bench in the corner , and , thumping his Bible wildly with his fist , exclaimed , at the top of his voice : -- `` There is _ no _ hell at _ all _ !