As we passed, I remarked a beautiful churchspire rising above some old elms in the park; and before them, in the midst of a lawn, and some outhouses, an old red house with tall chimneys covered with ivy, and the windows shining in the sun. "Is that your church, sir?" I said.
"Yes, hang it," (said Sir Pitt, only he used, dear,A MUCH WICKEDER WORD); "how's Buty,Hodson? Buty's my brother Bute, my dear—my brother the parson. Buty and the Beast I call him,ha, ha!"