the Munster forces arrived at Armagh, and found the princes carried off from thence, they fell without mercy on the Danes left to oppose them, and few escaped to warn Sitric of their approach to Dundalk, where they immediately marched. On their arrival there they found the Danish forces placed in security on board the fleet, without their possessing the means of reaching them. They were infuriated almost beyond control at being baffled in this manner, and by the secure taunts of defiance with which their approach was hailed by their insolent enemies, when suddenly they witnessed a strange fleet bearing boldly into the bay, and soon recognised it as their own. Their joy was not greater than the alarm of the Danes, who, however, soon prepared for the unexpected attack, and having the superiority in force and skill, anticipated a victory. The Irish admiral ran his vessel at once bravely alongside that of the Danish commander, and boarded it despite the utmost resistance opposed to him; he saw Callaghan, his prince, tied to the mast, and this stimulated his courage so much that he soon reached him, cut his bonds, and arming him desired him to go on board his own vessel, while he continued the conflict on board that of the Dane. The action was maintained with equal bravery throughout the entire line, but at length the superior numbers of the Danes begun to assert their advantage over the Irish, and Falvey, the admiral, being slain, his head was exposed to intimidate his followers, when Fingall, a young Irish prince, perceiving that the exigency demanded some unusual effort, resolutely fought his way against all odds to where Sitric, the Danish general was, and seizing him suddenly flung himself with his enemy in his arms into the sea where they both died in a deadly struggle with each other, and the element.

An action of such devoted heroism could not but excite emulation at such a moment, and two other Irish captains named Seagda and Conall, each seized Tor and Magmes, the brothers

of Sitric, and accomplished their deaths in the same manner. Such extraordinary valour appalled the Danes and they begun to give way before the impetuosity of the Irish, who renewed their attack with such violence that they completely route the enemy, only a few of whom escaped the slaughter that ensued, by means of the light vessels in which they sailed. The loss of life was very great on both sides, but the victory was with the Irish, and seldom has a victory been so well deserved. During the progress of the engagement, and while it was still doubtful, the Irish army viewed it in deep despair at being unable to render their countrymen that assistance they evidently required, but now they received them with joy proportioned to their anxiety. When Callaghan had recruited and rewarded his troops he prepared to return to Cashel. It is said that his march through Leinster was menaced by the king of that province from some motives of resentment towards him, but the precautions and well-known bravery of Callaghan, whose troops were also flushed with their recent victory, prevented any attack, and he reached his dominions in safety. He was no sooner settled there than he took measures to free his people from all danger of renewed attacks by the Danes, and never rested until he drove them from Limerick, Cashel, and every other place in which any of them had been permitted to remain under the pretext of being engaged in trade. After he had completed this prudent proceeding which he did not accomplish without experiencing some resistance, he married his sister to Daniel O'Faolan, King of the Decies, with whom he formed a firm alliance, and thenceforth governed his country in peace and prosperity. His death, which occurred peacefully after he had reigned about twelve years, was a source of great grief to his subjects by whom he was greatly respected. Altogether his career was one of great interest, and well deserves the especial notice we have given it.

C.

The corpse was placed on a large table opposite the door; it was that of a fair young woman who died of consumption; the daughter of a small but respectable farmer. The body was decently covered with a snow-white sheet, and a curtained canopy of white was formed over and around it, decorated here and there with flowers. On a small table, near the head, were placed five lighted candles, and snuff and tobacco were dealt round in profusion through the erowded house, and noise, mirth, and

No, no, Michael," said one old woman, drawing the new white pipe from between her teeth, with a smack and a sigh, "thatcan't be, for you know Crubeen Dhun's* aunt's husband's second cousin's mother was married to Shemus Beg's mother's sister's husband's son, that was called Paudrig rue na cappul,‡ bekase he was a horse-dealer that lived beyant the Lough, near Knock Carrig Bawn."

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Musha, I believe you're in the right," answered Michael, a hoary-headed, fine patriarchal-looking old man, evidently puzzled by the intricacy of the relationship, and anxious to get rid of the subject--" you must be right," he added, "for sure there isn't one in the barony aiqual to you at makin' it out, the ins and the outs ov it."

"Well, the Lord be good and merciful to your sowl, to night, Polly Dalton," said another old crone, breaking through the above discussion, much to the comfort of Michael, who turned to listen with every mark of attention, "its yourself was the purty little girl in airnest."

"Throth an' that's no lie for you, anyhow, Judy, agra," said Michael, chiming in with her tone and manner, “an' if you were telling lies your whole life, you tould the truth that time, at any rate-but what did she die ov, wirra?"

"Och, the docther said 'twas the gallopin' decay, Michael avourneen, but-" and she finished the sentence with a solemnly compressed mouth, and a significant shake of the head.

"Ach, you don't say that, sure?" rejoined Michael in a tone something between fear and wonder.

"Yes, but I do say so," answered Judy, "an' the sorra ha'porth else happened her-didn't I see her myself, the first Sunday ov harvest, dancin' at the crass-roads, as merry as a lark, an' as purty as ever she looked in her life, an' I jist stopped on my toe an' gave a peep at her; an' wasn't I sittin', that very evenin', 'ithin here, in this very house, when she came in. 'Judy,' says she to myself, I have a mighty great pain in my side intirely; I took it all at wanst, beyant at the dance, an' faiks I was obleeged to come home-an' more betoken, that same pain never quit her till she died.'"

"Did they bring her to the Collough buie?" § enquired Michael, "they say she has a great dale ov power and skill in the

likes ov that."

"Och, aye, they did, sure enough;" replied Judy, "but the moment she saw her she shook her head, and said she was too far gone."

"Ah thin, Michael," said another sapient hag, from the midst of a cloud of smoke in which she had been, for some time, enveloped, "do you know what I'm thinkin' ov?"

"Musha no, Oona," answered Michael, "how could I know, barrin' I was the Witch of Endher, or the Dog ov Knowledge that we saw at the fair for a pinny."

"Throth, I'd give you three guesses, and thin you wouldn't find it out," said Oona.

"Maybe its ov the crock ov goold the people say you have buried in the ould abbey beyant," answered Michael with a humourous, good-natured wink.

"Arra, let us alone with your kimmeen tricks, Mike," said Oona; "I was just considherin' what rason in the wide world there can be for havin' always an odd number of candles burnin' at a wake, an' if I was to be shot I can't make it out."

"Why thin, by all that's blessed, it's sartainly an odd thing, an' I wondher I never thought ov it myself; but, I suppose, it's in honour ov the holy and etarnal Thrinity," answered Mike, devoutly and reverentially rising his hat from his head with his left hand, and crossing his brow with the right.

"I was considherin on that myself," replied Oona, who appeared to have studied much on the subject, "but you know iv that was the case we ought to burn only three candles at any time." "Then it must be on account of the twelve apostles," said Michael, puzzling his brain for an explanation of this knotty point. "You're wrong agin," answered Oona, "sure every weeny gossoon, that's playin' stoppers about, knows that twelve is even, and thin it can't be odd."

"Yes," said Judy, "but recollect you mustn't reckon Judas among them, so its odd still."

"That's thrue for you in one sinse ov the word,” remarked the acurate Oona, "but then as I sed afore, sure eleven candles should be burnin' instead of five or seven as we often see."

"I hould you's a ha'peny I have it," said a youngster, who with open mouth was devouring the discussion, "its in commendation ov the King, Queen, and the Royal Princesses, for I heerd the schoolmasther, Con na boccough,|| sayin' that they were a very odd family."

"By gorra, Pethereen, you're a cliver chap, and the sorra doubt but that's the rason above the world," said Michael. "No Michael, no;" answered the persevering Oona, “ sure that can't be thrue, seein' as you do, that this was the ould anchient custom before a king or a queen was in the world at all." "O faiks! thin you're out there at any rate," answered Peter, anxious to show his learning, "does'nt every one know the wisest man that ever was, was Soloman, King or the Dews, and that the ouldest man was Mathuz'lim, who lived twenty thousand years, and died 'ithout a grey hair in his head-let alone Don Bellianni's ov Greece, and King Hecther ov Throy, that wer kings afore Ireland was med good or bad.”

This was conclusive-not oral tradition, but taken from book and delivered by the best educated young man in the village. "Right again, Pethereen," said Michael, "pon my sowkins you'll bate the masther out and out by an by:-which would you rather be a priest or a brogue-maker?-ha! ba! ha!"

"Why," said Peter, encouraged by the old man's appro bation," Id rether be a priest ov coorse, for look there's Shawn Nowlan, and what's him or the likes ov him to Father James, ridin' about to weddins, and wakes, and christ'nins, and gettin' all the money, and every one puttin' their hands to their hat for him."

"Pethereen, you'll be a bishop yet, if God pleases;" said Michael, while the young urchin glanced proudly about him as the old man kindly stroked down his close curly head.

While the above erudite dialogue was carried on between the old people on one side, "the mirth and fun grew fast and furious," among the young ones on the other. About twenty or thirty young men and women were assembled in a ring round "The Priest"-a broad-faced young peasant, with a laughing, gay, good-humoured devil in his hazel eye-the Joe miller of the surrounding district.—A straw rope round his middle, and a band of the same materials round his hat, were his only dis tinguishing canonicals, save and except a thick weighty rope's end with which he enforced submission, vi et armis, to his spiritual mandates.

"Sthand out here, Tim Casey, and Nelly Connor tall I be afther tying you's up in holy wedlock-you's are this long time expectin' my blessin-throwing sheep's-eyes acrass my shoulders at one another, so I may as well give to you's at once."

His Reverence well knew that there was another beside Tim with whom she would rather figure even in a mock-marriage, and that there was another dark-eyed young charmer standing near that Tim preferred to Nelly, but his Reverence delighted in the most incongruous unions, and as there was no appeal, they advanced to the centre of the circle, amid the tittering of the girls, and the playful jibes of the young men.

"Who was the unlucky vagabond," began Tim, "that gave your Reverence that ugly schrape along your purty nose there?" "Why, I fell an' thramped on it," was the ready reply. "I hope you didn't curse your brogues, father," said Tim "for if you did you'd be apt to be hanged in them.”

66

Why thin, Tim, a vick, iv you got your desarts you'd get the noose long ago," auswered his Reverence, "for I know what 'id hang you round and sound."

"Ah, thin, tell us what's that your Reverence?" enquired Tim, with affected humility.

"Why, a good rope, you villian," answered the priest. This stale jest elicited a loud burst of laughter from the bystanders, and his Reverence resumed.

"But come, Misthur Tim, go down on your knees, 'tall I hear your confession, you riprobate-ach God help the little girl that gets the likes ov you, for I suppose there's not a bigger villian livin' 'ithin the walls ov the world this blessed night."

"I'm entirely obleeged to you for your good recommendation, your Reverence," said Tim. "Isn't it your own characther, you blackguard," said the priest.

"O whin I'm lookin' for a characther," answered Tim, “ tist't to you I'll come at this rate."

Con na boccough: Cornelius the cripple.

"Throth an its lookin' for one, I'm thinkin', you are for to my know or knowledge the divil a one you had this many a day," said the priest.

"Haven't I a bad one idself, your Worship," said Tim. "Hould your jaw, you blackguard," said his Reverence, seconding the command by a loud resounding thwack on the shoulders of the kneeling penitent, much to the delight and edification of the spectators, "how dare you turn your tongue on your clargy, you vagabond,-how can you expect luck or grace, but what you never had how can I think to find it with you? och, its your own mother that rared the purty son you notorious thief and dhrunkard, an iv you're not a murdherer it's more than I could say in your behalf, before e'er a judge or jury in Ireland."

"Och, the sorra swheep the gutther off your tongue, but its your mouth that's dirty," said, Tim.

"Come Sir, begin your confession," said the priest; "where on the virtue ov your oath did you spend Sunday evenin' last?" "Och, your Reverence, sure you know yourself," answered Tim. "Come now, Misther Tim, tell us how long you spent watchin' Peggy Bawn outside ov the ditch a Sunday evening, tall she wint to milk the cows?" said the priest.

"Ha! Ha!—Tim," said several of the young people, to whom this was the brighest species of entertainment.

"Oh your Reverence, you ought n't to be telling lies you know at any rate," said Tim.

“Och, good people, do you's all hear that, up to my very chin," said the priest, "I that never tould the shaddy of a lie since I was born,-why you unforthenate scapegrace wasn't I lookin' at you-you watchin' Peggy, and Joe Stitcher, the tailor, watchin' you, like an owl in a stone-wall, and the sleeve ov his shirt hanging down along wid his thraheens, and a white spot undher each wing ov him, like a young magpie,-God help you, Peggy, avourneen; faith you have a purty pair in the shape ov sweethearts, aye, Joe Stitcher, you're there too-a nice bit ov a man you are, any how-well iv it was a mortual sin to be ugly I know who'd have a bad chance of salvation." Again the loud, long, hearty laugh rung round the circle, and the poor tailor was fain to hide his diminished head.

In this manner the ceremony proceeded, and many “a couple" underwent the severe and trying jokes of the facetious clargyman," who, when there was no further occasion for his services in a clerical capacity, became chief of a band of singers, who in turn made the "rafters dirl," and shake to the sonorous melody of their voices.

"Come, Dinny O'Donougho, let us have your song nowdash it out here my posey, 'ithout any ov your palavering." "Upon my sowkins I've sich a terrible cowld that I couldn't sing a word, barrin' frikenin' the crows," answered Dinny.

"None ov your preachin', Parson Pawmer, to us that ways, Dinny-come out with it, we all know what you can do."

After the usually fashionable number of "hems" and "haws" and the same number of pressing and reiterated requests, Dinny laid his elbow on his knee, and spreading his broad palm over half his face, he shut his eyes lest any should see him blush, and at the top of his deep manly voice sung out, to a plaintive air, something like the following

SONG

Oh! I once loved a maiden with her cheeks like the rose,' And her lips like ripe berries, and her eyes like the sloes; She vowed she'd be true, that she'd never deceive me, But ah! she has left me, sweet Peggeen a Leavy.

Broken-hearted I wander, o'er moor and o'er mountain,
Like a ghost in the moonlight, I stray by the fountain,
Where she first told me her love-ah! why did I believe thee!
Or why leave me to mourn, my sweet Peggeen a Leavy.

Like the dark cloud, that sails 'tween the sun and the river, Like the wail o'er the dead, quenching pleasure for ever, She alone of my heart's fondest hopes could bereave me, My fair one-my false one-iny Peggeen a Leavy.

The singer had scarcely concluded the last stanza when the door of the wake-house opened and a young man entered; as soon as he crossed the threshold he dropped on his knees, and repeated his prayers for the soul of the departed in a low murmuring under tone.

"Upon my conscience, a clane, purty boy," said our old friend Judy, eyeing the stranger as kanee as he prayed, “I don't think I ever saw him before."

"Throth an' he is, sure enough, Judy," replied old Michael, "an' shnug, an' comfortable, an' very mannerly, an' a sthrappin, likely boy as you remark, besides he must be a sthranger, for I don't b'lieve any ov the frinds ov the corpse know who he is." The young man stood up and looked about him-every eye was fixed on him, and the general buz of "who is he?"- -"Do you know him?" passed round from one to another. Their curiosity was excited by the unusual circumstance of a stranger entering a wake after twelve o'clock at night, in a secluded country district. He was a tall, handsome, young countryman, dressed warmly in frize, which appeared partly new, or as the country phrase has it, "but little the worse o' the wear." He sought out a sitting place with his eyes, and with the easy, confident, gallantry of his nation took his place with a smiling countenance beside a blushing handsome girl, who had three or four rustic beaus flirting with her. He addressed her good humouredly, and answered her repartees with quickness and pleasantry. He seemed to draw her attention by degrees from her other admirers, whom he did not notice. They became gloomy, and whispered one another apart, while now and then they darted jealous glances at the intruder, who now fairly monopolized all the smiles of their favourite, Peggy Bawn. Peggy was certainly a beautiful specimen of an Irish peasant girl; she had neither cap nor bonnet on her head; her hair was drawn smoothly from the centre of her fine forehead on each side behind her ears, from under the tips of which a stray curl was seen to peep out. Her laughing dark eye-her ripe cherry lip fair complexion and rosy cheek-her short sleeved gown shewed her handsomely turned arm to advantage. The stranger appeared to be fairly taken with her wit and beauty, and their conversation, from its tone and earnestness, seemed to have increased in interest. The rivals now quitted the wake, and the Priest," or "Master of the ceremonies," approaching to where the stranger sat, cast a roguish eye on Peggy, and then pointed significantly to the old man, before known to us by the name of Michael.

"By my own sowl I'll tell somebody, Peggy," said he, "what will Joe Stitcher, the tailor, say to this?"

"Och, tell him," said the young man, "that I have ripped all the stitches he sewed this twelvemonth."

"Devil a much you have to boast ov then," he answered, "for you hadn't much to do to do that same."

"But what 'ill Michael," he added, "say to all this cuggering with this strange young man?"

The last sentence caught the ear of old Michael, he looked round for a moment at his daughter and the stranger, though not with a countenance expressive of displeasure. She held down her head and blushed, while the young man looked as one unconscious of doing any thing wrong.

By this time the clear day-light filled the cottage with its brightness, dimming the faint lustre of the tapers round the corpse. An old woman, the leader on such occasions, stood up at the farther end of the house, and proceeded up to the body, followed by several other women.

By your leave, Judy,” said she, "'till I kiss the corpse." The rest of the women followed her example, and when all were done, they set up the wild lament over the dead which they contiuued for nearly fifteen minutes. The candles were then put out and removed, and the door of the house thrown open for the fresh morning breeze to enter.

The young man stood up to depart, cordially shaking hands with Peggy, and fingering his stick in that peculiar manner which shows a person thoroughly acquainted with its use and management, he left the house.

sun.

He unloosed the bridle of his horse from the hasp of the barn-door, and mounting, he proceeded leisurely along the road, whistling a merry good morrow to the first beams of the rising He had not proceeded very far from the house of death when he was surprised by a young man, armed with an alpine, springing through the hedge, and placing himself on the road before him. Immediately another followed him, and then another and another. He now knew them-they were the four young men which he had observed in the wake. One of them seized the horse by the bridle and desired the stranger to dis

mount.

"What do yous want with me, boys?" said the young man, quietly dismounting, "I think yous have made a mistake, for I'm a stranger in this part of the country."

• Whispering.

1

"That's the very reason we want you," answered the other, "who are you-what brought you here, or where do you come from?"

Why, boys, sure I done nothing out o' the way," said the young man, "and as I'm a sthranger, as I said afore, it doesn't signify where I was bred and born when maybe yous id never see a sight ov me again."

"Come, none of your gosther," said the young man, gathering his brows, "answer what we ax you fair and straight this mortual minit, or else 'twill be worse for you."

"Why by all that's lovely," replied the young stranger, forcing a smile, "one id imagine that yous were the judge and jury, all together, yous ax so many questions for nothing at all." "I tell you what it is, my gay fellow," said the young man, we'll have none ov your nonsense, so by the powers ov turf iv you don't be afther answerin' a civil question in a hand-gallop, we know how to make you do it."

"Why, thin, since it goes to that, do your best every one ov yes-and the duoul burn me iv yous get a word out ov me, so leather away if yous like, and as soon as yous please," and the young man turning his horse's head towards the ditch, drove him into it, and turning about he faced his opponents with a fearless glance and a determined bearing.

"Come boys," said Tim Casey, advancing towards the stranger with a flourish of his cudgel, "will it be said that one man cowed us by a big word?" and he made a furious stroke at the young man, who defended his head with dexterity, and repaid Tim with a cut across the knee that brought him to the ground. Tim's companions uttered a yell of rage and revenge, and attacked him on all sides. The young man walked backwards with his face turned to his foes, protecting his person and checking the too furious advance of any rash individual. The longer the combat appeared doubtful, the more enraged they became, and he was on the point of being overpowered by the number and desperation of his assailants, when the powerful voice of old Michael arrested their attention. The old man, with an agility extraordinary, leaped over the hedge, and wildly whirling his shillelagh round his head, beat down the cudgels of the young men.

66

Hurrups, my hearties," said he, with a vivacity unbecoming his years, "brave warm work in the early mornin', but in the name ov all the blessed saints and angels what is it all about; are yous mad or crazy, or what put it into your heads to begin such a hurly burly on the quiet "dacent road-side, before yous put a bit in your heads."

The young men paused and were silent-they seemed to be abashed before the reverend old man, who eying them from under his broad-brim with a penetrating and indignant scowl, exclaimed, “An so yous ought to be ashamed ov yourselves— four agin one, and he a stranger too. Musha, the never a bit may I eat, but once ov my days iv I had this boy along wid me iv I wouldn't clear the full ov a fair ov yous. But I'm very sorry," said he, turning round and addressing the young man, "that you meet with such an unruly welcome in this place; however, iv I can do any thing to give you a better opinion ov us before you go, I will, an' for our further acquaintance you must come an' take your brukwust wid me, an' we'll make out a feed ov oats and a white drink for the garran."

"I'm much obleeged to you entirely," answered the young man, "but I'm goin' to the fair ov Knockille-Knockery, an I must be there afore tin o clock."

“Och thin, goodness resave my soul," said the good-natured old man, "iv you part with me 'tall you both ate an' dhrink with me and your baste besides."

The young stranger, finding resistance useless, took the bridle of his horse over his arm, and walked with the old man towards the house. The other young men, after talking awhile among themselves, separated and disappeared in different directions.

The rest of my tale is easily told :-in the young stranger Michael discovered the son of a distant relative, and an early school-fellow, friend, and companion. His father resided soine two dozen miles off, and being in comfortable circumstances, and liking the fortune old Michael proposed giving her, besides thinking the innocent looking Peggy would make a good daughter-in-law, and knowing how his son was attached to her and she to him, he consented to their union, and they were accordingly married, much to the mortification of the young men who aspired to the hand of the fair damsel. After spending a week with her father she was carried in triumph to the home of her husband, where we will leave her in the quiet enjoyment of all domestic happiness; and in a future Number I may give the "wedding and dragging home" at large. G. J.

LOGIC.

THE term Reason is employed by philosophers in different senses. It signifies that quality of human nature which distinguishes man from the inferior animals. Man is called a rational or reasonable being, and brutes are said to be irrational. Reason, in this sense, seems to be an universal name for all the intellectual powers, as distinguished from the sensitive part of our constitution. In its logical and more general acceptation, it signifies that power of the mind by which we draw inferences, or that faculty which enables us, from relations or ideas, that are known, to investigate such as are unknown; and without which we never could proceed in the discovery of truth beyond first principles; viz. those already known: hence, reason is that faculty by which we can deduce one proposition from another, or find out such intermediate ideas as may connect two distant ones. LOGIC, which professes to direct us how to use that god-like faculty, that distinguishes us from brutes, in the most proper and advantageous manner, is a science that may be so simplified, as to render it extensively useful; but has been so disguised by barbarous terms, and perplexed by unnecessary subtleties as to render the study of it rather revolting than alluring.

AFRICAN TIGER.-The tiger seems to have a pleasure in destroying, distinct from the necessity which urges other wild beasts, for the sheep are frequently found untouched, save that the animal has sucked their blood. One of the beasts, whose nightly depredations had roused the farmers, was killed during my stay in the valley. This is the general course of proceeding on these occasions:-The animal is tracked to its lair in the thick underwood, and, when found, attacked by large dogs.— If possible, it flies; but when unable to escape, makes a desperate defence, raising itself above the assailants by leaping on a bush, and from thence striking them down with its paws as they rush in, and, from its great strength and activity, frequently destroying them. But the tiger seems to know its master foe, and should a man approach within the range of its tremendous spring, it at once leaves the dogs and darts upon him, and the struggle is then for life. I was told of a slave, who, on going out early one morning to look after cattle, heard his dogs baying at a distance in the jungle and, on coming up to ascertain the cause, was met by the tiger's spring. The savage clung, until the scalp hung over his eyes; but even in this state of and seizing the slave by the nape of his neck, tore the skin off torture, the slave drew the wood-knife from his belt, and stabbed the tiger to the heart.

THE NOSTRILS.-The nerves of smell do not, like those of taste and touch, terminate in papillæ or feelers, but in a spongy uniform pulp, in the substance of the membrane which lines the nostrils, and which, from its discoverer Schneider, has been called the Schneiderian membrane. Besides the nerves of smell called the olfactory nerves, a branch of the nerve of the eye enters the nostrils. It is very small, but it is through its influence that we shed tears from smelling strong odours; and that we sneeze when the eyes are exposed to bright sunshine; for the strong odours irritate the nerve in the nostril, and through it the eye; while, on the contrary, the sunshine irritates the eye and through it the nostril.

GATHERING OF MEDICINAL ROOTS.-According to M. Kittel, roots should always be gathered in the autumn. This rule is without exception for all plants not annuals, with this difference, that the roots of biannuals should be gathered in the first year, while those of the rest may be gathered any year in their lifetime; but the roots gathered before the flowering year are always more charged with active principles than those which have often supported a stem and flowers, so that roots of the first, second, and third year are better than older roots.This is especially the case with aromatic and narcotic roots, as arnica, briony, gentian, belladouna, angelica, liquorice, sarsaparilla, dandelion, fennel, &c. &c. The volatile, bitter, aromatic, nauseous, and, in general, all active peculiar principles, are more abundant in the cortical layers of the roots than in the woody part. For these reasons, M. Kittel says that fresh roots should never be allowed to be bought and sold for medicinal use, except in the autumn and winter.

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