Indeed it would seem, by all accounts, that he was fonder of visiting than of any regular employment.  This cousin, Silas Stinson, had grown up to manhood with no fixed purpose in life.  As a boy he was quick at learning, and obtained a fair education, which, as he grew older, he was at much pains to display by using very high-flown language, which often bordered upon the flowery and sublime.  I believe in their younger days Aunt Lucinda used to allow “it fairly turned her stomach to hear the fellow talk.”  He was a dashing, showy follow when young, and was soon married to a delicate and lady-like girl, just the reverse of what his wife should have been.  A woman like Aunt Lucinda would have given him an idea of the sober realities of life, but the disposition of the wife he chose was something like his own, dreamy and imaginative, with none of the energy necessary to face the trials and difficulties which lie in the life-path of all, in a greater or less degree.  He had tried various kinds of business but grew weary of each in its turn.  At the time of his marriage his father set him up in a dry-goods store, and, had he given proper attention to his business, would probably have become a rich man.  For a time things went on swimmingly, but the novelty of the thing wore off, and he soon felt like the clerk who told his employer “he only liked one part of the business of store-keeping, and that was shutting the blinds at night.”  After trying various kinds of business, with about equal success, he got the idea, and a most absurd one it was, that farming “was his proper vocation.”  His indulgent father again assisted him, by purchasing for him a small farm, thinking he would now apply himself and make a living.  His father maintained a kind of oversight of matters during his life-time, but in process of time he died, and Silas was left to his own resources.  His father’s property was divided among the surviving children, and it was found that Silas had already received nearly double his share of the patrimony, so, of course, nothing remained for him at the time of his father’s death.  Necessity at length drove him to mortgage his home, and he never paid even the interest on the claim, and when the above mentioned letter was written, the term of the mortgage was nearly expired, and he must soon seek another home for his family.  Such was the idle whimsical being who now wrote to these relatives to know what they thought of his removal to Canada, and only waited, as he said, to see what encouragement they could give him adding that he was willing to work and only asked them to assist him in getting his family settled till he could look about him a little and see what was to be done, signing himself their attached but unfortunate cousin.  But the professed attachment of her Cousin Silas failed to call up a very pleased expression of countenance as my aunt refolded the letter, saying, “Well if this isn’t a stroke of business, then I’m mistaken.  What are you going to do about it Nathan