mint, and
boil them.

GREEN PEAS SOUP. In shelling the peas, divide the old from the young.
Stew the old ones to a pulp, with an ounce of butter, a pint of water, a
leaf or two of lettuce, two onions, pepper and salt. Put to the liquor
that stewed them some more water, the hearts and tender stalks of the
lettuces, the young peas, a handful of spinach cut small, salt and
pepper to relish, and boil them till quite soft. If the soup be too
thin, or not rich enough, add an ounce or two of butter, mixed with a
spoonful of rice or flour, and boil it half an hour longer. Before
serving, boil in the soup some green mint shred fine. When the peas
first come in, or are very young, the stock may be made of the shells
washed and boiled, till they are capable of being pulped. More
thickening will then be wanted.

GREEN PEAS STEWED. Put into a stewpan a quart of peas, a lettuce and an
onion both sliced, and no more water than hangs about the lettuce from
washing. Add a piece of butter, a little pepper and salt, and stew them
very gently for two hours. When to be served, beat up an egg, and stir
it into them, or a bit of flour and butter. Chop a little mint, and stew
in them. Gravy may be added, or a tea-spoonful of white powdered sugar;
but the flavour of the peas themselves is much better.

GREEN SAUCE. Mix a quarter of a pint of sorrel juice, a glass of white
wine, and some scalded gooseberries. Add sugar, and a bit of butter, and
boil them up, to serve with green geese or ducklings.

GRIDIRON. The bars of a gridiron should be made concave, and terminate
in a trough to catch the gravy, and keep the fat from dropping into the
fire and making a smoke, which will spoil the broiling. Upright
gridirons are the best, as they can be used at any fire, without fear of
smoke, and the gravy is preserved in the trough under them. The business
of the gridiron may be done by a Dutch oven, when occasion requires.

GRIEF. In considering what is conducive to health or otherwise, it is
impossible to overlook this destructive passion, which like envy is 'the
rottenness of the bones.' Anger and fear are more violent, but this is
more fixed: it sinks deep into the mind, and often proves fatal. It may
generally be conquered at the beginning of any calamity; but when it has
gained strength, all attempts to remove it are ineffectual. Life may be
dragged out for a few years, but it is impossible that any one should
enjoy health, whose mind i