Indeed her mother, who has had the whole management of her, has always filled the girls head with a parcel of nonsense. Your plain way of thinking, returned the captain, I highly approve, but her education entitles her to.—Ay, interrupted Mr. Sirloin, that was against my will too, but my wife would have it so, and so she was sent to a boarding school; to be sure, continued he, as she was but a half boarder, I came into it for peace and quietness, but if it was to do again—for added he, she has learned nothing but to talk of gentility and fashions, and dancings, and plays, and I don’t know what.—These things, Sir, answered the captain, are accomplishments which are necessary in every woman who has any pretensions to marry genteelly.—Therefore, Sir, returned Mr. Sirloin, unnecessary for my daughter; for I am sure—I don’t know what pretensions she has to think of marrying genteelly, or out of her sphere.—I am a plain man, Sir, as you see, continues he, and to be sure would do every thing for the best for my daughter, and no doubt should like very well to see my daughter made a gentle-woman of; but then, adds he, how it that to be? that’s the question—for my part I don’t see now a days that gentlemen let ’em have ever so good a fortune, are willing to take a girl for love alone—no offence I hope to you, Sir,—By no means Sir, replied the captain, I assure you, Sir, I esteem your sentiments; and though love is the chief ingredient in a happy marriage, yet to make it quite compleat, a little fortune is necessary.—Now I rather think, says Mr. Sirloin, as times go, that _fortune_ is looked upon as the _chief ingredient_—you’ll excuse me, Sir, I am a blunt man—Pray, Sir, make no apology, replied the captain.—Well, Sir, says Mr. Sirloin, let us now enter upon the business we met upon.—You say you have a regard for my daughter, I suppose you mean love. I do, Sir, answered the captain.—You are an officer, Sir, my daughter tells me.—Yes, Sir, returned the captain, but, to deal ingenuously with you, I am only a younger brother, therefore I can’t boast of any great fortune, a thousand pounds or so, besides my commission,—with which, continues he, I am capable of appearing as a gentleman, and hope I have always acted as such.—A thousand pound, says Mr. Sirloin, is a great deal of money in my opinion; I don’t know what you may think of it: as for your commission, says he, that’s quite out of my way, and therefore I know nothing of it; and now, Sir, continues he, as you have told me who you are, it is but fair that I should tell you who I am.—I am, adds he, a butcher by trade, and by industry and frugality, I make shift to maintain myself and family with what I call credit, for I make it a rule, never to bespeak any thing for myself or any of my family, but what I know I can afford, nor let any thing be wore, or made use of, till I have paid for it.—I pay my landlord his rent every quarter day, and I don’t owe any man a shilling in the world, and so now, Sir,