As we passed, I remarked a beautiful church-spire 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!"
Hodson laughed too, and then looking more grave and nodding his head, said, "I'm afraid he's better, Sir Pitt. He was out on his pony yesterday, looking at our corn."

I noticed a beautiful church-spire rising above some old elms in the park; and nearby an old red house covered with ivy.
"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, the parson, my dear. Buty and the Beast I call him, ha, ha!"
Hodson laughed too, and then said more gravely, "I'm afraid he's better, Sir Pitt. He was out on his pony yesterday, looking at our corn."
