The expense of the building of the boys’ school and of a new room for the girls was defrayed chiefly by a bazaar held at Winchester. There were at that time no Education Acts nor Government requirements, and the buildings would be deemed entirely unfit at this time even for the numbers who then used them, and who did not amount to more than between thirty and forty boys and fifty or sixty girls and infants, together about a third of the present numbers at school in Otterbourne and Allbrook. Miss Tucker was then the mistress; Master Oxford still the master.
The Church was consecrated on the 30th of July, 1839, by Bishop Sumner, who preached a sermon on the text, “No man careth for my soul,” warning us that we could not plead such an excuse for ourselves, if we neglected to walk in the right way.
One of the earliest funerals in the churchyard was that of good old
Oxford, old, as he was called, because he was crippled by rheumatism, but he was only fifty-two. He lies buried near the south gate of the churchyard under a large slate recording his name.
He was followed in his office by Mr. William Stainer, who had hitherto been known as a baker, living in the house which is now Mr. James Godwin’s. His bread was excellent, and he was also noted for what were called Otterbourne buns, the art of making which seems to have gone with him. They were small fair-complexioned buns, which stuck together in parties of three, and when soaked, expanded to twice or three times their former size. He used to send them once or twice a week to Winchester. But though baking was his profession, he did much besides. He was a real old-fashioned herbalist, and had a curious book on the virtues of plants, and he made decoctions of many kinds, which he administered to those in want of medicine. Before the Poor Law provided Union doctors, medical advice, except at the hospital, was almost out of reach of the poor. Mr. and Mrs. Yonge, like almost all other beneficent gentlefolks in villages, kept a medicine chest and book, and doctored such cases as they could venture on, and Mr. Stainer was in great favour as practitioner, as many of our elder people can remember. He was exceedingly charitable and kind, and ready to give his help so far as he could. He was a great lover of flowers, and had contrived a sort of little greenhouse over the great oven at the back of his house, and there he used to bring up lovely geraniums and other flowers, which he sometimes sold. He was a deeply religious and devout man, and during Master Oxford’s illness took his place in Church, which was more important when there was no choir and the singers sat in the gallery. He was very happy in this office, moving about on felt shoes that he might make no noise, and most reverently keeping the Church clean and watching over it in every way. He also continued in the post of schoolmaster, which at first he had only taken temporarily, giving up part of his business to his nephew. But he still sat up at night baking, and he also had other troubles: there was insanity in his family, and he was much harassed.
His kindness and simplicity were sometimes abused. He never had the heart to refuse to lend money, or to deny bread on credit to hopeless debtors; and altogether debts, distress, baking all night, and school keeping all day, were too much for him. The first hint of an examination of his school completed the mischief, and he died insane. It is a sad story, but many of us will remember with affectionate regard the good, kind, quaint, and most excellent little man. By that time our schoolmistress was Mrs. Durndell, the policeman’s wife, a severe woman, but she certainly made the girls do thoroughly whatever she taught, especially repetition and needlework.
The examiner on religious subjects, Mr. Allen, afterwards an Archdeacon, reported that the girls had an unusual knowledge of the text of Scripture, but that he did not think them equally intelligent as to the meaning.
Daily Service had been commenced when the new Church was opened, and the children of the schools attended it. There was also a much larger congregation of old men than have ever come in later years. At one time there were nine constantly there. One of these, named Passingham, who used to ring the bell for matins and evensong, was said to have been the strongest man in the parish, and to have carried two sacks of corn over the common on the top of the hill in his youth. He was still a hearty old man at eighty-six, when after ringing the bell one morning as usual, he dropped down on the hill in a fit and died in a few seconds.
There was not much change for a good many years. In 1846, the Parsonage House was built and given to the living by Mr. Keble. The stained glass of the south window of the Church was given by the Reverend John Yonge, of Puslinch, Rector of Newton Ferrers, in Devonshire, in memory of his youngest son, Edmund Charles, who died at Otterbourne House in 1847. Thirteen years previously, in 1834, the eldest son, James Yonge, had likewise died at Otterbourne House. Both the brothers lie buried here, one in the old churchyard, one in the new. They are commemorated in their own church at Newton
by a tablet with the inscription—“What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shall know hereafter.”