female catkins, or strobiles which are so well known as
Hops, and are so largely used for brewing purposes.

The plant gets its first name _Humulus_ from _humus_, the rich
moist ground in which it chooses to grow, and its affix _lupulus_
from the Latin _lupus_ a wolf, because (as Pliny explained), when
produced among osiers, it [263] strangles them by its light climbing
embraces as the wolf does a sheep.

The word Hop comes from the Anglo-saxon _hoppan_ to climb.
The leaves and the flowers afford a fine brown dye, and paper has
been made from the bine, or stalk, which sprouts in May, and soon
grows luxuriantly; as said old Tusser (1557):--

"Get into thy Hop-yard, for now it is time
To teach Robin Hop on his pole how to climb."

The Hop, says Cockayne, was known to the Saxons, and they called
it the _Hymele_, a name enquired-for in vain among Hop growers
in Worcestershire and Kent.

Hops were first brought to this country from Flanders, in 1524:--

"Turkeys, Carp, Hops, Pickerel, and Beer,
Came into England all in one year."

So writes old Izaak Walton! Before Hops were used for improving
and preserving beer our Saxon ancestors drank a beverage made
from malt, but clarified in a measure with Ground Ivy which is
hence named Ale-hoof. This was a thick liquor about which it was
said:--

"Nil spissius est dum bibitur; nil clarius dum mingitur,
Unde constat multas faeces in ventre relinqui."

The Picts made beer from heather, but the secret of its manufacture
was lost when they became exterminated, since it had never been
divulged to strangers. Kenneth offered to spare the life of a father,
whose son had been just slain, if he would reveal the method; but,
though pardoned, he refused persistently. The inhabitants of Tola,
Jura, and other outlying districts, now brew a potable beer by
mixing two-thirds of heath tops with one of malt. Highlanders think
it very lucky to [264] find the white heather, which is the badge of
the Captain of Clan Ronald.

At first Hops were unpopular, and were supposed to engender
melancholy. Therefore Henry the Eighth issued an injunction to
brewers not to use them. "Hops," says John Evelyn in his
_Pomona_, 1670, "transmuted our wholesome ale into beer, which
doubtless much altered our constitutions. This one ingredient, by
some suspected not unworthily, preserves the drink indeed, but
repays the pleasure with tormenting diseases, and a shorter life."

Hops,