The ancients were so fond of perfumes, that they scented their persons and garments, their vases, their domestic vessels, and their military insignia. They not only considered aromatic emanations as acceptable to the gods, and therefore used them in their temples, as they are at present by the Roman Catholics, but as announcing the presence of their divinities; and Virgil thus speaks of Venus: --------Avertens rosea cervice refulsit, Ambrosiaeque comae divinum vertice odorem Spiravere. Chaplets of roses were invariably worn in festivals and ceremonies; and wines were also aromatised with various odoriferous substances. The Franks and the Gauls continued the same custom; and Gregory of Tours called these artificial-flavoured liquors, _Vina odoramentis immixta_. To this day, the manipulation of French wines gives them a fictitious _bouquet_, with raspberries, orris-root, and divers drugs to suit the British market. No external sense is so intimately connected with the internal senses as that of smell; none so powerful in exciting and removing syncope, or more capable of receiving delicate and delicious impressions: hence Rousseau has denominated this faculty "_the sense of imagination_." No sensations can be remembered in so lively a manner as those which are recalled by peculiar odours, which are frequently known to act in a most energetic measure upon our physical and moral propensities. How many perfumes excite a lively feeling of fond regret when reminding us of the beloved one who was wont to select them, and whom we long to meet again! It is not improbable that our partiality to the hair of those who are dear to us, arises from this circumstance. Every individual emits a peculiar odour; and, according to Plutarch, Alexander was distinguished by the sweet aroma that he shed. Perhaps the expression, so frequently found in the lives of the saints, "who die in odour of sanctity," may be referred to a belief that this peculiar gift was granted to beatitude.