The neighbouring county of Hereford, now a great cider-drinking locality, had in former times at least one town with a reputation for good ale. “Lemster bread and Weobley ale” had passed into a proverb before the seventeenth century. The saying seems, however, to have been affected chiefly by the inhabitants of the county, who, perhaps, were not quite impartial. Ray, writing in 1737, ventures to question the pre-eminence ascribed to the places mentioned. For wheat he gives Hesten, in Middlesex, “and for ale Derby town, and Northdown in the Isle of Thanet, Hull in Yorkshire, and Sandbich in Cheshire, will scarcely give place to Weobley.” Herrick mentions this celebrated Northdown ale in the lines:—
That while the wassaile bowle here With North-down ale doth troule here, No sillable doth fall here, To marre the mirth at all here.
Norfolk was once celebrated for a strong ale, bearing the euphonious name of _Norfolk Nog_. It is mentioned in Vanbrugh’s _Journey to London_, “Here, John Moody,” says Sir Francis, “get us a tankard of good hearty stuff presently.” “Sir,” is the reply, “here’s Norfolk Nog to be had next door.” Swift also knew something of this brew, and mentions that “Walpole laid a quart of nog on it.” “Clamber-skull” is probably a variety of this strong Norfolk ale, and earned its name from the rapidity with which it mounted to the heads of its votaries. Norfolk still holds a high place as an ale-producing county, and the ales of Great Yarmouth and Norwich are justly celebrated.
Banbury produced a mighty ale in the seventeenth century, if we may judge from the couplet in _Wit Restored_:—
Banbury ale a half-yard pot The devil a tinker dares stand to ’t. { 172}
It must have been strong indeed, for according to the old proverb—
Cobblers and tinkers Are your true ale drinkers.
Dorsetshire, amongst the southern counties, has long been noted for a fine pale ale. This is the liquor mentioned in _English Ale_ (1737) as—
Bright amber priz’d by the luxurious town, The pale hu’d Dorchester——
Its strength may be judged from the entry in John Byrom’s diary of about the same period (1725):—“I found the effect of last night’s drinking that foolish Dorset, which was pleasant enough, but it did not agree with me at all, for it made me very stupid all day.” These are the words of a man who has evidently loved not wisely but too well.