The horses now tramp heavily along the bridge , and wistfully bethink them of their stables . Rest , rest , thou weary world ! for tomorrow 's round of toil and pleasure will be as wearisome as to-day 's has been ; yet both shall bear thee onward a day 's march of eternity . Come ! another log upon the hearth . True , our little parlor is comfortable , especially here , where the old man sits in his old arm-chair ; but on Thanksgiving night the blaze should dance high up the chimney , and send a shower of sparks into the outer darkness . Toss on an armful of those dry oak chips , the last relics of the Mermaid 's knee-timbers , the bones of your namesake , Susan . Higher yet , and clearer be the blaze , till our cottage windows glow the ruddiest in the village , and the light of our household mirth flash far across the bay to Nahant . And now , come , Susan , come , my children , draw your chairs round me , all of you . There is a dimness over your figures ! You sit quivering indistinctly with each motion of the blaze , which eddies about you like a flood , so that you all have the look of visions , or people that dwell only in the fire light , and will vanish from existence , as completely as your own shadows , when the flame shall sink among the embers . Hark ! let me listen for the swell of the surf ; it should be audible a mile inland , on a night like this . Yes ; there I catch the sound , but only an uncertain murmur , as if a good way down over the beach ; though , by the almanac , it is high tide at eight o'clock , and the billows must now be dashing within thirty yards of our door . Ah ! the old man 's ears are failing him ; and so is his eyesight , and perhaps his mind ; else you would not all be so shadowy , in the blaze of his Thanksgiving fire . How strangely the Past is peeping over the shoulders of the Present ! To judge by my recollections , it is but a few moments since I sat in another room ; yonder model of a vessel was not there , nor the old chest of drawers , nor Susan 's profile and mine , in that gilt frame ; nothing , in short , except this same fire , which glimmered on books , papers , and a picture , and half discovered my solitary figure in a looking-glass . But it was paler than my rugged old self , and younger , too , by almost half a century . Speak to me , Susan ; speak , my beloved ones ; for the scene is glimmering on my sight again , and as it brightens you fade away .
O , I should be loath to lose my treasure of past happiness , and become once more what I was then ; a hermit in the depths of my own mind ; sometimes yawning over drowsy volumes , and anon a scribbler of wearier trash XXXXX what I read ; a man who had wandered out of the real world and got into its shadow , where his troubles , joys , and vicissitudes were of such slight stuff , that he hardly knew whether he lived , or only dreamed of living .
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