The distribution was made at the back of the house.  The people gathered in groups, dressed in all sorts of plain, dilapidated country garments—­old men in worn-out smock-frocks (a sight seldom seen even in conservative England), gaiters such as they wear at work in the fields, and slouched, unrecognizable hats that had evidently seen better times; others stood in their “Sunday clothes,” stiff and uncomfortable as a laborer looks in that unusual and unartistic guise; some were old and toothless, yet upright and almost martial-looking; while some, again, had that pathetic look—­sunken eyes, bent limbs and general air of having given in to the attacks of time and sorrow—­which invariably speaks the same language and stirs the same sympathy all over the world.  The women were in the majority, most of them hale and hearty, the wives and daughters of laborers who were too busy to come in person.  Nine sacks, each containing fifty gallons of flour, were emptied by two sturdy miller’s men into an immense tub.  The family being an old Roman Catholic one, a religious ceremony was the prelude of the distribution.  The domestic chaplain offered up a short prayer, and after invoking the blessing of Heaven on the gift, sprinkled the flour with holy water in the form of a cross.  It was no uncommon thing for one person to carry away three or four gallons of flour:  the largest award was in the case of a family consisting of man, wife and seven children, the wife carrying away with her five and a half gallons.  Many of those whose names appeared as witnesses for the defence during the memorable trial were present—­John Etheridge, the blacksmith, and Kennett, coachman to the dowager Lady Tichborne, among the number.  The latter lives in a small freehold cottage, his own property, at Cheriton, the next parish to Tichborne.  Persons of all denominations were relieved—­Church people, Dissenters and Roman Catholics alike—­without the slightest favoritism being shown to any.

The same kind of charity, though on a smaller scale, and by the custom of living patrons instead of the will of deceased ones, is dispensed at various times in the year through the whole country by both large and small landed proprietors.

The 11th of November (St. Martin’s Day) is the one generally chosen for the distribution of winter clothing to the poor of the parish, and this in commemoration of the mediaeval legend of the holy Bishop Martin, who gave half his ample cloak to a shivering leper who begged of him in the street.  Next night, says the legend, he saw in a dream Christ himself clothed in that cloak, and remembered the promise that “inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of these, ye have done it unto Me.”  The writer has often assisted at such distribution of warm clothing, both made and unmade.  In every county squire’s house there is a bi-or tri-weekly distribution of soup to the village poor, and in most two or three sets of fine bed-linen and soft baby-clothes, to be