about ten o'clock P.M.
What the subject of his meditations were , is best known to himself : but no one could look at his low head , sly , sinister-looking eyes and malevolent scowl , and imagine him a messenger of the glad tidings that speak of peace and good-will to man . He seemed like one who would rather call down the fire from heaven to destroy , than learn the meaning of the Christ-spoken text -- `` I will have mercy and not sacrifice . '' Between this man and Mr. Lootie a sort of friendship had sprung up . They might constantly be seen about ten o'clock P.M. seated beneath the shade of the boat , wrangling and disputing about contested points of faith , contradicting and denouncing their respective creeds in the most unchristianlike manner , each failing to convince the other , or gain the least upon his opponent . `` That is the religion of words , '' said Lyndsay , one day to Flora , as they had been for some time silent listeners to one of Mr. S -- 's fierce arguments on predestination -- `` I wonder how that man 's actions would agree with his boasted sanctity ? '' `` Let him alone , '' said Flora ; `` time will perhaps show . I have no faith in him . ''