Moreover, the leper would probably not be anxious for admission, because at this time, when hospitals were barely able to supply the necessaries of life, it meant restriction without the corresponding comfort which sometimes made it welcome. It is related that in 1315, the lepers of Kingston showed their independence by quitting the hospital and demolishing it. A Close Roll entry relating to St. Nicholas’, Royston (1359), declares that the “lepers for a great while past have refused to come or to dwell [p040] there.” About the year 1350 the chronicler of St. Alban’s states that at St. Julian’s hospital “in general there are now not above three, sometimes only two, and occasionally one.” Possibly they had rebelled against the strict life enforced: in 1353 the master and lepers were made semi-independent by grant of the abbot and convent.[27] In truth, hospitals were in great straits during this distressful century, and retrenchment was necessary. Leper-houses in particular were seldom on a sound financial basis. Even if they possessed certain endowments in kind there was rarely money to spend on the fabric, and buildings became dilapidated. Experience teaches the difficulty of maintaining old-established charities. Much of the early enthusiasm had passed away, and charity was at a low ebb. It was indeed a poverty-stricken period. Heavy taxation drained the country’s resources. War, famine and pestilence were like the locust, palmerworm and caterpillar devastating the land. These were cruel times for the poor, and also for houses of charity. The mediæval tale of Sir Amiloun shows that, so long as the land had plenty, the leper-knight and his companion fared well, but that when corn waxed dear, they were driven by hunger from town to town, and could barely keep themselves alive.