Slippery Elm: History and Traditional Use

Slippery elm is a North American story from beginning to end. The tree, Ulmus rubra, grows nowhere else in the wild; the peoples of the eastern woodlands and prairies ate its inner bark, roped their lodges with it and chewed it for a raw throat long before a European wrote any of that down; the settlers borrowed it, the first United States Pharmacopeia of 1820 admitted it, the botanic doctors of the nineteenth century built poultices and enemas around it, and a Canadian cancer tea of the 1920s made it briefly notorious. Along the way British chemists spent thirty years working out what the "slime" actually is. This article follows that documented trail. Where a claim is firm we say so; where it is a story that everyone repeats and nobody can source, we say that too.

Table of Contents

  1. A Tree of the Eastern Woodlands: Botany and the Name
  2. First Peoples: Food, Fibre and Medicine
  3. Settlers, Surgeons and the 1820 Pharmacopeia
  4. Samuel Thomson and the Botanic Physicians
  5. The Eclectics and the Elm Bark Trade
  6. Elm Bark Tents: The Origin of the Pregnancy Caution
  7. Essiac: A Canadian Nurse's Cancer Tea (1920s)
  8. What the Slime Is Made Of: The Mucilage Chemists (1939–1969)
  9. Regulators and the Modern Evidence
  10. Dutch Elm Disease and Slippery Elm Today
  11. Key Research Papers
  12. Connections
  13. Featured Videos

A Tree of the Eastern Woodlands: Botany and the Name

Slippery elm is a medium-sized deciduous tree of the elm family (Ulmaceae), native to eastern North America and to nowhere else. Its range runs from southern Maine and southern Quebec west to the eastern Dakotas, and south through Nebraska, Oklahoma and central Texas to northern Florida and Georgia. It likes moist, rich bottomland soil and the edges of woods, hedgerows and fence lines, though it will tolerate drier ground. Left alone it can live two hundred years, but as we will see at the end of this article, it is seldom left alone.

The tree entered formal botany in 1793, when the Pennsylvania Lutheran pastor and botanist Gotthilf Heinrich Ernst Muhlenberg described it as Ulmus rubra in the Transactions of the American Philosophical Society. Ten years later, in 1803, the French botanist André Michaux published the same tree under a different name, Ulmus fulva, in his Flora Boreali-Americana. Because Muhlenberg's name came first it is the correct one under the rules of botanical naming, but Michaux's U. fulva was the name the doctors and pharmacists used for well over a century — it is the name on the 1820 Pharmacopeia, in the Eclectic dispensatories, and in the chemistry papers of 1939 and 1969. If you see Ulmus fulva in an old text, it is slippery elm.

Both Latin names describe the wood. Rubra means red and fulva means tawny, and the tree is still called red elm for its reddish-brown heartwood; "moose elm" is another old name recorded in the dispensatories. The everyday English name describes something else entirely: the soft inner bark, the layer between the rough outer bark and the wood, which turns slick and gelatinous within moments of meeting water. That inner bark is the medicine, and its slipperiness — from a substance chemists call mucilage, a tangle of water-loving sugar chains — is the single property that explains almost every use in this history.

Slippery elm is easily confused with its taller, more famous cousin the American elm (Ulmus americana), the tree of small-town main streets, whose inner bark is not mucilaginous in the same way. The old texts also mention the winged elm (U. alata) of the southern states, whose bark was used for cordage, and the European field elm, which the French pharmacopoeia used for its own mucilage. Only Ulmus rubra concerns us here.

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First Peoples: Food, Fibre and Medicine

The fullest record of how Native American nations used slippery elm is the ethnobotanical database compiled by the anthropologist Daniel Moerman, which gathers field reports from the 1910s to the 1970s. It lists 110 separate uses of Ulmus rubra across more than twenty nations, and they fall into three groups that overlap in a way the modern "herbal supplement" label hides: the tree was a material, a food and a medicine at once.

Material. The Dakota, Omaha, Ponca, Pawnee and Winnebago of the Missouri River country, recorded by Melvin Gilmore in 1919, used forked slippery elm trunks as the posts of the earth lodge, twisted the fibrous inner bark into ropes and cords, hollowed log sections into corn mortars and used the weathered bark to catch the spark in fire-making. The Menominee of Wisconsin boiled the bark to make storage baskets, matting, fish nets and the netting of snowshoes; the Meskwaki used bark strips for the sides and rain-proof roof of the winter wigwam; the Ojibwa and Potawatomi did the same.

Food. The inner bark is edible raw or boiled, and the Omaha practice recorded by Gilmore is the most vivid: inner bark was cooked with buffalo fat as the tallow was rendered, both for its flavour and because it kept the fat from going rancid, and the cooked bark was prized by children as a treat. The Kiowa, according to Vestal and Schultes in 1939, dried and stored the inner bark to brew a tea through the winter. This food use matters for the later story: a bark that is nutritious, bland and swells in water is exactly what nineteenth-century doctors would prescribe as invalid gruel.

Medicine. The medical entries cluster around the same few actions that the mucilage explains. For the throat: the Iroquois chewed the raw bark for sore throats; the Chippewa (Ojibwa) gargled a decoction of the bark or chewed the dried root; the Mohegan chewed the inner bark for sore throat and "to soothe the lungs"; the Potawatomi used it to lubricate the throat so that a lodged fish bone could be worked free. For coughs, colds and "quinsies" (a swollen, abscessed throat): the Cherokee, in the compilation of Hamel and Chiltoskey. For the gut: the Cherokee took it to soothe stomach and bowels, for heartburn and for dysentery; the Dakota, Omaha, Ponca, Pawnee and Winnebago drank a decoction of the inner bark as a laxative; the Menominee took an infusion as a physic. For the skin: the Cherokee poulticed burns, old sores and wounds with the inner bark; the Menominee applied it to draw pus from a wound; the Potawatomi used it for boils; the Meskwaki and Micmac for suppurating sores. For the eyes: the Cherokee, Iroquois and Potawatomi all used bark preparations as an eyewash or eye poultice. And for childbirth: Cherokee, Iroquois, Meskwaki and Alabama women drank a bark tea to ease or hasten labour — a use that will return, in a much darker form, later in this article.

These are records of practice, not proof of effect; a field anthropologist writing down what a healer told him in 1928 is not a clinical trial. But the consistency across nations that had little contact with one another — sore throat, cough, bowel, wound, eye, labour — is itself a historical fact, and it is the pattern the settlers inherited almost unchanged.

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Settlers, Surgeons and the 1820 Pharmacopeia

Colonists learned slippery elm from the people who already used it. The United States Department of Agriculture's own plant guide puts it simply: the indigenous peoples "generously taught some of these uses to early non-Indian settlers," and the Forest Service's species review records that the bark's mucilage "was used as a treatment for coughs and diarrhea by the early settlers." A bark that could be a poultice, a gruel for the sick and a cough remedy was welcome in a frontier household with no doctor within a day's ride.

One story deserves a flag. It is widely repeated that George Washington's troops survived the winter at Valley Forge in 1777–78 on slippery elm gruel, or that Revolutionary surgeons dressed gunshot wounds with the bark. We looked for a primary record — an orderly book, a surgeon's journal, a supply return — and did not find one, and neither the USDA guide nor the standard botanical references make the claim. It may be true; hungry soldiers in an eastern hardwood forest could certainly have eaten the bark. But until someone produces the document, it should be told as a tradition, not as history.

What is firmly documented is the tree's admission to American official medicine at the earliest possible moment. The first Pharmacopoeia of the United States of America, published in 1820, lists Ulmus fulva, "Slippery elm," among its official drugs and gives a preparation, the Infusion of Slippery Elm: one ounce of sliced bark to a pint of boiling water, infused for twelve hours in a covered vessel near the fire with frequent stirring, then strained. That is a recipe for a thick mucilaginous drink, and it is essentially what the Cherokee and Omaha had been making.

American surgeons then found a use no Native healer is recorded as having made. Because a strip of dried inner bark swells steadily as it absorbs moisture, it could be shaped into a bougie (a slender rod passed into a narrow body passage to widen it) or a tent (a plug placed in a wound or opening to hold it open and let it drain). In 1837 the American physician W. A. McDowell published "Elm Bark in Surgery" in the Western Journal of the Medical and Physical Sciences, an account of using slippery elm bark for bougies, tents, catheters and similar purposes; W. B. Herrick followed with a paper "On Bougies of Slippery Elm Bark" in 1845. The practice had drawbacks that the later dispensatories were frank about — the swollen bark could break off inside a urethral stricture — but it shows how thoroughly slippery elm had become an American surgical material within a generation of the first Pharmacopeia.

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Samuel Thomson and the Botanic Physicians

The regular doctors of the early nineteenth century bled, blistered and dosed their patients with mercury. The most successful revolt against them came from a self-taught New Hampshire farmer, Samuel Thomson, whose system of "botanic" medicine — steam baths, cayenne, lobelia to induce vomiting, and a small cabinet of native herbs — was sold by patent, as was sold by patent to hundreds of thousands of American familiesquot;family rights,was sold by patent to hundreds of thousands of American familiesquot; to a very large number of American households. Thomson's New Guide to Health; or, Botanic Family Physician (1822) is one of the most widely read medical books in American history, and slippery elm has its own entry in it.

"The inner bark of this tree is an article of much value," Thomson wrote, "and may be used to advantage in many different ways." He noted that two kinds of slippery elm grew in the country, one with a harder, tougher bark, and he used the bark in three roles that recur throughout the book. First, in poultices: his standard dressing for old sores, whitlows, felons, bad burns, scalds and frostbite was a pounded cracker mixed with pulverised slippery elm bark and ginger, made up with a strong tea of raspberry leaves, renewed every twelve to twenty-four hours and washed with soap suds at each change. Second, in what he called injections — enemas — of witch hazel or raspberry-leaf tea with slippery elm bark, given when "canker" (his word for inflamed, ulcerated mucous membranes) had left the bowels sore. Third, for the breast: a thick poultice of lily root or slippery elm bark for swollen, inflamed breasts in nursing mothers.

Thomson's theory — that all disease was a loss of inner "heat" to be restored with cayenne and steam — belongs to its era. But his handling of slippery elm was practical and almost entirely external or rectal, which is to say he used it exactly where a bland, water-holding, soothing material does its physical work. When the Thomsonian movement matured into the Physiomedicalist school, its great reference, William Cook's Physio-Medical Dispensatory of 1869, kept the bark in the same place: "When chewed, or chipped and macerated in cold water, it acts soothingly upon all mucous membranes," Cook wrote, calling the powder "one of the most soothing and available of all demulcent poultices for inflamed surfaces" and noting that it "absorbs a large quantity of water, and swells."

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The Eclectics and the Elm Bark Trade

The Eclectic physicians — a trained, degree-granting school of American medicine that favoured plant remedies and flourished from the 1840s to the 1930s — gave slippery elm its most detailed nineteenth-century write-up. King's American Dispensatory, in the 1898 edition revised by Harvey Wickes Felter and John Uri Lloyd, heads its entry "Ulmus (U. S. P.)" and describes the official drug as the inner bark, "generally separated from the tree in long strips": flat pieces about an eighth of an inch thick, tough, pale brownish-white, fibrous and mealy when broken.

Its verdict is generous. Elm bark, King's says, is "nutritive, expectorant, diuretic, demulcent, and emollient, and is a very valuable remedial agent" in "mucous inflammations of the lungs, bowels, stomach, bladder, or kidneys," and in diarrhoea, dysentery, coughs, pleurisy and sore throat. The standard form was the mucilaginous drink, an ounce of powdered bark to a pint of water, taken freely; for infants with bowel complaints, a tablespoonful of the powder boiled in a pint of fresh milk. Externally it was the emollient poultice of choice for inflamed parts, abscesses, fresh wounds, burns, scalds and ulcers, and the entry singles out one use with particular confidence: for the agonising testicular swelling that can follow mumps, "the constant use of an elm poultice, regularly changed every 4 hours, will be found a superior remedy." In a small aside that connects straight back to the Omaha, King's notes an 1852 report in the American Journal of Pharmacy that fat rendered with elm bark acquired "the property of not undergoing rancidity." Felter's own Eclectic Materia Medica of 1922 kept the preparation, Mucilago Ulmi, with the dose "ad libitum" — as much as you like — and the advice that a good mucilage is made with very cold water.

Behind the dispensatory lay a trade. The phrase "separated from the tree in long strips" describes a harvest that, when the strips are taken all the way round the trunk, girdles and kills the tree, since the inner bark is the living tissue that carries the tree's food. Through the nineteenth century "elm bark" was gathered from the eastern forests as a commodity for the drug trade, ground coarse for poultices and fine for the drink, and sold by every druggist. The throat lozenge, the form most people know today, is a later commercial refinement of the same idea — powdered bark bound into a tablet that dissolves slowly against the throat. Several origin stories circulate for the first slippery elm lozenge, one of them dating it to 1847; we could not confirm any of them against a primary record, so we leave the date open.

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Elm Bark Tents: The Origin of the Pregnancy Caution

Almost every modern reference on slippery elm carries a warning to avoid it in pregnancy, and readers are often puzzled by it: how could a bland gruel that Cherokee women drank to ease labour be dangerous? The answer is historical rather than pharmacological, and it comes from the surgical "tent" of the last section.

A strip of dried elm bark that swells slowly and steadily when moistened is, mechanically, a dilator. From the nineteenth century into the mid-twentieth, slippery elm sticks were used — by lay abortionists and sometimes by desperate women themselves — to open the cervix and provoke miscarriage. The medical literature records the consequences in the driest possible language: a 1932 paper in the Proceedings of the Royal Society of Medicine reports "a piece of slippery elm removed from the bladder," and a 1954 paper in the Journal of Obstetrics and Gynaecology of the British Empire describes "two cases of slippery elm bladder calculus in pregnancy" — bark fragments that had been pushed through the wrong passage, lodged in the bladder and become the core of a stone. These were injuries of misuse and of the instrument, not effects of anything in the plant.

That is the whole origin of the modern caution. The powdered inner bark sold today, swallowed as a drink or a lozenge, has no documented ability to end a pregnancy, and the traditional record is of women taking it during pregnancy for heartburn and bowel upset. Even so, the caution persists in most references, partly out of prudence and partly because the historical association was so ugly, and this site repeats it: a pregnant woman should ask before taking any supplement. Understanding where the warning came from at least lets her ask the right question.

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Essiac: A Canadian Nurse's Cancer Tea (1920s)

Slippery elm's one brush with fame in the twentieth century came as an ingredient rather than on its own. According to the United States National Cancer Institute's PDQ summary, the herbal mixture called Essiac was popularised in Canada during the 1920s by a nurse from Ontario, who said she had received the recipe from an Ojibwa healer and began to advocate it as a treatment for cancer. Its four original ingredients were burdock root, Indian rhubarb root, sheep sorrel and the inner bark of slippery elm. From 1934 to 1942 she ran a clinic at Bracebridge, Ontario, where the tea was given free of charge, and it became the object of petitions, newspaper campaigns and a formal inquiry.

The evidence never caught up with the enthusiasm. In 1938 a commission appointed by the province of Ontario reviewed the clinic's cases and concluded that there was only limited evidence of effectiveness. Decades later the mixture was tested in the laboratory by Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center, which found no immune-stimulating or anticancer activity in animals, and by the National Cancer Institute, whose screening found no anticancer activity and toxicity at the highest concentrations. A Canadian retrospective review of 86 patients who had taken it found the records incomplete and could demonstrate no clear evidence of improved survival. The PDQ summary's conclusion is unambiguous: no controlled data from human studies suggest that Essiac is effective in treating cancer, and the FDA has not approved it for any condition.

None of this reflects on slippery elm as a demulcent. Essiac's story is told here because it is part of the plant's history, because it is why many people first heard the name, and because it is a clean example of the difference between a tradition of use and a demonstration of effect — a distinction this article tries to keep in view throughout.

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What the Slime Is Made Of: The Mucilage Chemists (1939–1969)

For a century after 1820, everyone agreed that slippery elm "consists chiefly of mucilage" and nobody knew what mucilage was. The answer came from the British school of carbohydrate chemistry, and it took thirty years.

A polysaccharide is a long chain built from simple sugar units; starch and cellulose are the familiar examples. A mucilage is a polysaccharide whose chains carry so many water-attracting groups that they trap water between them and swell into a gel. In 1939 R. E. Gill, E. L. Hirst and J. K. N. Jones, publishing in the Journal of the Chemical Society, broke slippery elm mucilage apart with acid and isolated the first identifiable fragment: an aldobionic acid, a two-unit piece consisting of a sugar acid (galacturonic acid) joined to a sugar (rhamnose). The Second World War interrupted the work; Part II, in 1946, used the classical technique of methylating the mucilage — capping every free position with a methyl group — and then hydrolysing it, so that the pattern of capped and uncapped positions revealed how the sugars had been linked. In 1950 Hough, Jones and Hirst reported in Nature the isolation of an unusual component, 3-methyl-D-galactose, a galactose sugar that the tree itself had methylated, which turned out to be a signature of this particular mucilage.

The picture was completed in 1969 by R. J. Beveridge, J. F. Stoddart, W. A. Szarek and J. K. N. Jones in Carbohydrate Research. Their paper, "Some structural features of the mucilage from the bark of Ulmus fulva," described a backbone of alternating galacturonic acid and rhamnose units carrying side chains of galactose and 3-O-methylgalactose — a chemical architecture of the kind now called a rhamnogalacturonan, closely related to the pectins that set jam. Jones, who had been a junior author on the 1939 paper, was the senior author on the 1969 one: a single chemist's career spanned the whole problem. (One of his 1969 co-authors, Fraser Stoddart, would share the 2016 Nobel Prize in Chemistry for entirely different work on molecular machines.)

The practical meaning of the chemistry is simple and it vindicates the Cherokee, Thomson and King's alike. The mucilage is not absorbed and does not act on any receptor; it hydrates into a viscous, slightly acidic gel that clings to wet surfaces. Everything slippery elm was ever credibly used for — a raw throat, a burning oesophagus, an inflamed bowel, a weeping burn — is a wet surface that hurts, and a bland gel laid over it feels better. The 2012 review by Watts and Rousseau on slippery elm for laryngeal irritation makes the same point from the other direction: the biochemistry gives a good reason to expect a soothing effect, and controlled trials of the herb on its own have simply not been done.

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Regulators and the Modern Evidence

Slippery elm never left American official medicine so much as moved within it. It was official in the United States Pharmacopeia from the first edition of 1820, was still headed "U. S. P." in King's in 1898, and remained a recognised drug into the twentieth century; the commonly quoted end date for its official status is 1960, which we have not been able to check against the pharmacopoeia itself and so report as the usual figure rather than a verified one.

Its regulatory home today is more specific than most people realise. When the Food and Drug Administration reviewed every over-the-counter drug ingredient in the decades after 1972, its oral health-care rulemaking — the tentative final monograph published in the Federal Register on 27 January 1988 and amended through the 1990s, now carried forward as OTC Monograph M022, Oral Healthcare Drug Products for Over-the-Counter Human Use — lists elm bark first among its demulcent active ingredients. The monograph defines a demulcent as "a bland, inert agent that soothes and relieves irritation of inflamed or abraded" mucous membranes, and specifies a solid dosage form (in practice, a lozenge) of 10 to 15 percent elm bark for adults and children aged two and older, labelled as an "oral demulcent" for the temporary relief of minor throat irritation. It is one of very few traditional herbs to hold that status, and it holds it for the reason the chemistry explains: the claim is physical, modest and true.

The clinical literature on the herb itself is thin, and honesty requires saying so. In 2002 Langmead and colleagues, testing herbal remedies that inflammatory bowel disease patients actually take, found that slippery elm extracts had antioxidant activity in laboratory cell preparations — a test-tube finding, not a treatment result. In 2010 Hawrelak and Myers published a small Australian pilot study of two multi-herb formulas for irritable bowel syndrome, both of which contained slippery elm bark alongside other ingredients; the constipation-predominant group reported better bowel habits and fewer symptoms, but a formula of five ingredients cannot tell you what any one of them did, and the study had no placebo arm. Slippery elm also appears in some proprietary mixtures marketed for reflux, on the reasonable but untested idea that the gel coats the oesophagus. There is no randomised trial of slippery elm alone for sore throat, reflux, IBS or anything else. For a plant with two centuries of official standing that is a remarkable gap, and it is the honest state of the evidence.

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Dutch Elm Disease and Slippery Elm Today

The greatest threat to slippery elm in its whole history arrived in the twentieth century, and it came for the whole genus. Dutch elm disease — a fungal infection carried from tree to tree by bark beetles, named for the Dutch scientists who identified its cause in 1921 — was first reported in the United States in 1928, believed to have arrived in a shipment of European elm logs bound for the Ohio furniture industry. Within sixty years the great majority of North America's elms were dead, and the elm-lined American street became a memory. Slippery elm is often said to be somewhat less susceptible than the American elm, and the USDA plant guide repeats that view, but the Forest Service's species review is blunter: slippery elm "is attacked and killed by Dutch elm disease," and across much of its range it is also killed by a second, unrelated infection, elm yellows (elm phloem necrosis). The two diseases are "so virulent and widespread that slippery elm seldom reaches commercial size and volume as a forest tree."

The species is not in danger of extinction — it is assessed as of Least Concern, it seeds freely, and it turns up as a volunteer along fence rows and in neglected hedges across its range. But large, old trees are now rare, and that changes the ethics of the bark trade. A tree that is stripped around its trunk dies; a tree stripped on one side may survive but is opened to the beetles that carry the fungus. Responsible suppliers therefore take bark from trees felled for other reasons, or from cultivated stands, and a buyer who cares about the tree can ask where the powder came from.

What is striking, looking back over two centuries, is how little slippery elm's uses have changed and how few of them have been tested. The Iroquois chewed the raw bark for a sore throat; the FDA today lets a manufacturer sell it in a lozenge for exactly that. Cherokee women took it for heartburn; it is still in reflux formulas. Thomson poulticed burns with it; it is still in skin salves. The mucilage has been fully described, the mechanism is understood and uncontroversial, and the modern trials remain undone — perhaps because a bland, cheap, unpatentable bark that soothes rather than cures has never been worth anyone's money to study. For patients, that leaves slippery elm about where it has always been: a gentle, low-risk way to make an irritated surface feel better, with a documented history far longer than its evidence base.

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Key Research Papers

The list below combines the genuine chemistry landmarks that identified what slippery elm mucilage is, the earliest American surgical literature on the bark, the case reports behind the pregnancy caution, and the small modern studies. Historical primary texts — the 1820 Pharmacopeia, Thomson's New Guide to Health, Cook's Physio-Medical Dispensatory, King's American Dispensatory and Moerman's ethnobotanical database — are named in the article rather than cited here.

  1. McDowell WA (1837). Elm Bark in Surgery: An Account of the Use of the Bark of the Slippery Elm Tree (Ulmus Fulva), for Bougies, Tents, Catheters, and Similar Purposes in Surgery. The Western Journal of the Medical and Physical Sciences. — PubMed PMID: 38080966
  2. Gill RE, Hirst EL, Jones JKN (1939). Constitution of the mucilage from the bark of Ulmus fulva (slippery elm mucilage). Part I. The aldobionic acid obtained by hydrolysis of the mucilage. Journal of the Chemical Society (Resumed). — doi:10.1039/jr9390001469
  3. Gill RE, Hirst EL, Jones JKN (1946). Constitution of the mucilage from the bark of Ulmus fulva (slippery elm mucilage). Part II. The sugars formed in the hydrolysis of the methylated mucilage. Journal of the Chemical Society (Resumed). — doi:10.1039/jr9460001025
  4. Hough L, Jones JKN, Hirst EL (1950). Chemical Constitution of Slippery Elm Mucilage: Isolation of 3-Methyl D-Galactose from the Hydrolysis Products. Nature. 165(4184):34-35. — doi:10.1038/165034a0
  5. Williams B (1954). Two cases of slippery elm bladder calculus in pregnancy. The Journal of Obstetrics and Gynaecology of the British Empire. — PubMed PMID: 13192523
  6. Beveridge RJ, Stoddart JF, Szarek WA, Jones JKN (1969). Some structural features of the mucilage from the bark of Ulmus fulva (slippery elm mucilage). Carbohydrate Research. 9:429-439. — doi:10.1016/s0008-6215(00)80028-2
  7. Langmead L, Dawson C, Hawkins C, Banna N, Loo S, Rampton DS (2002). Antioxidant effects of herbal therapies used by patients with inflammatory bowel disease: an in vitro study. Alimentary Pharmacology & Therapeutics. 16(2):197-205. — PubMed PMID: 11860402
  8. Hawrelak JA, Myers SP (2010). Effects of Two Natural Medicine Formulations on Irritable Bowel Syndrome Symptoms: A Pilot Study. The Journal of Alternative and Complementary Medicine. 16(10):1065-1071. — PubMed PMID: 20954962
  9. Watts C, Rousseau B (2012). Slippery Elm, its Biochemistry, and use as a Complementary and Alternative Treatment for Laryngeal Irritation. Journal of Investigational Biochemistry. 1(1):17. — doi:10.5455/jib.20120417052415

PubMed Topic Searches

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