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Updated: May 25, 2025
It has a massive buttress in the centre of the southern face, and the outlines of old windows can be traced in various parts. The western gable end, which can be seen from Boley Hill, is also interesting and worthy of attention. The cellars and vaulted passages extend even beyond the building to the eastward, and are very massive in their construction.
One, inspecting him through an eyeglass on a woven hair guard, expressed a pointed surprise at Jasper Penny's informal garb. "Christoval!" he ejaculated. "It approaches an insult to the da-da-darlings." Another commenced to sing a popular minstrel air: "Blink a ho dink! Ah! Ho! "Roley Boley Good morning Ladies all!" Jasper Penny abruptly descended to a small room used for smoking.
My Indian rose early, mended his moccasins, then expressed by signs something about his son and the Englishmen we met yesterday. Conceiving that he wished to send some message to his family, I suffered him to depart. After his departure I felt the curse of solitude, although he was truly no company. Boley arrived about ten o'clock.
Took with me an Indian, Boley, and some trifling provision; the Indian and myself marched so fast that we left Boley on the route, about eight miles from the lodge. Met Mr. Grant's men, on their return to Lake de Sable, having evacuated the house this morning, and Mr. Grant having marched for Leech Lake. The Indian and I arrived before sundown.
The lines of the north and south walls were followed by means of a probe across the old burial ground westwards as far as the road, running from the High Street to Boley Hill, and the foundations of the west wall lying along its side. These researches revealed no signs of aisles, quasi-transepts, or porch.
January 22. Made a pretty good day's journey. My Indian came up about noon. Distance twenty miles. January 23. Marched about eighteen miles. Forgot my thermometer, having hung it on a tree. Sent Boley back five miles for it. My young Indian and myself killed eight partridges; took him to live with me. January 24. At our encampment this night Mr.
Passed the night very uncomfortably, having nothing to eat, not much wood, nor any blankets. The Indian slept sound. I cursed his insensibility, being obliged to content myself over a few coals all night. Boley did not arrive. In the night the Indian mentioned something about his son. January 27.
Boley lost the Sioux pipe-stem which I had carried along for the purpose of making peace with the Chipeways; I sent him back for it; he did not return until eleven o'clock at night. It was very warm; thawing all day. Distance forty-four points. January 26. I left my party in order to proceed to a house, or lodge, of Mr. Grant's on the Mississippi, where he was to tarry until I overtook him.
In my extremity I turn to you and ask you to fill the gap without fail. Knowing how willing you always are to help a brother minister in need, I shall look for you without expecting a reply to this note. Please do not disappoint us. I send this message by Mr. John Boley, who returns to your neighborhood today. Sincerely yours in the Master's work, Ezra Thompson.
Of the old #Episcopal Palace#, famous for having been the home, during his later years, of Cardinal Fisher, a considerable part still exists to the south-west of the cathedral, between it and Boley Hill. The palace was perhaps originally erected by Gundulf himself.
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