365
days, and would have been ready to burn the culprit who should dare to
maintain the contrary." It is called Strangers' Hall, a most
interesting medieval mansion which had never ceased to be an inhabited
house for at least 500 years, till it was purchased in 1899 by Mr.
Leonard Bolingbroke, who rescued it from decay, and permits the public
to inspect its beauties. The crypt and cellars, and possibly the
kitchen and buttery, were portions of the original house owned in 1358
by Robert Herdegrey, Burgess in Parliament and Bailiff of the City,
and the present hall, with its groined porch and oriel window, was
erected later over the original fourteenth-century cellars. It was
inhabited by a succession of merchants and chief men of Norwich, and
at the beginning of the sixteenth century passed into the family of
Sotherton. The merchant's mark of Nicholas Sotherton is painted on the
roof of the hall. You can see this fine hall with its screen and
gallery and beautifully-carved woodwork. The present Jacobean
staircase and gallery, big oak window, and doorways leading into the
garden are later additions made by Francis Cook, grocer of Norwich,
who was mayor of the city in 1627. The house probably took its name
from the family of Le Strange, who settled in Norwich in the sixteenth
century. In 1610 the Sothertons conveyed the property to Sir le
Strange Mordant, who sold it to the above-mentioned Francis Cook. Sir
Joseph Paine came into possession just before the Restoration, and we
see his initials, with those of his wife Emma, and the date 1659, in
the spandrels of the fire-places in some of the rooms. This beautiful
memorial of the merchant princes of Norwich, like many other old
houses, fell into decay. It is most pleasant to find that it has now
fallen into such tender hands, that its old timbers have been saved
and preserved by the generous care of its present owner, who has thus
earned the gratitude of all who love antiquity.

Sometimes buildings erected for quite different purposes have been
used as guild halls. There was one at Reading, a guild hall near the
holy brook in which the women washed their clothes, and made so much
noise by "beating their battledores" (the usual style of washing in
those days) that the mayor and his worthy brethren were often
disturbed in their deliberations, so they petitioned the King to grant
them the use of the deserted church of the Greyfriars' Monastery
lately dissolved in the town. Th