THE STAR OE THE NORTE '' 1. IF. Weaver Proprfctor.] : VOLUME 3. roc STAR 0E TUE NORTH Is puUitktd every Thursday Morning, by R. W, WK.-VV Ett. l - of the power of true lova. lIOOM, HOYS, ROOM. DY C. F. HOFFMAN. There was an old hunter, Camp'd down by the rill, Who fisli'd in this water, And shot on that hill. The forest for him had No danger, nor gloom, For all that he wanted Was plenty of room ! Says he, "The world's wide, Thore is room for-tts all ) RJOIII enough in the green wood, If not in the hall. Room, boys, room, by the light of the moon, For why shouldn't every man enjoy his own room 1" He wove his own nets, And his shanty was spread, With the skins he had dress'd And stiech'd overhead ; Fresh branches of hemlock Made Iragrant the floor For his bed, as he sung When the daylight was o'er ; "The world's wide enough, ' J here is room for us ult; Room enough in the green wood, If not in the hall. Room, boys, room, by the light ofthe moon, For why Shouldn't every man enjoy his own room V That spring now half choked By the dust ot the road, Under boughs of old maples Once limpidly llovv'd, By die rocks whence it bubbles His kettle was hung, Which their sap often fill'd, While the hunter he sung, "The world's wide enough, There is room for us ail ! Room enough in the green wood, if uol in the hall. Room, boys, room, by the light of tbo moon, I For why shouldn't every man enjoy his own room V j And still sung the hunter— When one gloomy day, He saw in the forest, What sadden'd his lay, A heavy wheel'd wagon lis black rut had made, Where fair grew the greeusward, In broad forest glade— "The world's widu enough, There is room for us all; Room enough in the green wood, If not in the hall. Room, boys, room, by ihe light of the moon, For why shouldn't every man enjoy hia own room 7" He whistled to his dofr, And says he, "We can't slay ; . , I most shoulder my rifle, Up tracks ami away." Next day, 'mid those maples, Tho settler's axe rung, While slowly the huutef Trudged utr as ho sung, "The world's wide enough, There is room for ue all; Room enough in the greon wood, * If not in the hall. Room, boys, room, by the light of the moon, For why shouldn't every man onjoy hia own room 1" ~ The h'cwsptiper- Read wnnt Willis save :—"As you feel the sunshme; as we breathe the balmy air ;as wo draw our life of life from household af fection—all unconsciously—so we drink in the pleasures and blessings of tho newspa per : careless, yet eager, and, though de pendent, unthankful. Ho must be an ima ginative man who can tell the value ol the newspaper, for only he can fancy what it would be to bo deprived of it. Another By ron might write another "Darkness'' on the statu of a world uevvspaperless. If we should attempt to personify such a world, it would be under the form of n blind man holding in his Land the empty string from which his dog has escaped; or the good la dy in Hood's picture, with her foot advanced to step on board a steamer which she sud denly observes to havo moved six feet Irom the wharf. Or, again, a stranger in tho bot tom of i mine, who, after blowing out his "Davy," runs to the sha't and finds that somebody has taken away the ladder." CP" A French gentleman, apprehending himself on his death bod, earnestly entreat- j ed his young wife not to many an ofiioer nfi whom he had been jealous. 'My dear,' said i j she, 'do not distress yourself; I have given 1 my word to ano.her a great while ago.' | | CP" There is a man who says ho has been j | at evening parties out West, where the boys I and girls hug so hard that their sides cave I in. He has had several of his ribs broken in that way. Thero is a young man in Toledo, who has a stoop in his shouldhrs on account of bending over so much to kiss the girls, who are rath er short in his neighborhood. 'SIIT 'KM UP '—Wo notice in an Illinoi ß paper the marriage of Edward C. Pirn to Miss Mary Pinn. Timo will be pretty likely to make tenpins out of this couple. Man is a bundle of habits. What, then, is a woman I — Sun. 'Wnxey' says she is an armful of sighs, bran and wMTalebono. CP" The man who had to lower his shirt collar to pass under the Wheeling Bridge, arrived in Cincinnati! lust week. CP" Be-tears—that's what the potter said to the lump of clay. A down-east farmer uses grtus-lioppers in his grist-mill instead of tho common kind. [Two Dollars per Anna®. NUMBER 44. TIIE Flit NT IIABY. In a new novol, "The Glens," recently published, occurs tho following strik ing pic ture of domestic felicity which crusty old bachelors will read with much inteie.st : "If "ho baby' was asleep, no one was "al lowed to speak except in a whisper, o.i pain of instant banishment ; the piano was clos ed, the guitar was tabooed, boots wore inter dicted, and ilio brll was muffled. If Mr. Vincent wished to pnjoy a quiet cigar, he must go out of the house, lest the smoke tnigh hurt 'die baby'—and, lest the street door might disturb us alumhers, ho must make his exit by the back way, and reach the sireet by the garden-gate. The Doctor was scarcely ever out of the houre ; not be cause'the baby'is ill—for indeed it was most alarmingly liea.tliy—but becauso slid was 'afraid it might U taken wish eomo dreadful disease, and no doctor near.' It" coal was placed on tho gram, either Mr. Vincent must put it in lump by lump with hi" fingers, or Thomas must come it: on tip toe, leaving his boots below, lest the noise . should di-turb 'tho baby. 1 Mr. Vincent might lio in one posture until he was full of aches from the crown of his head t) the sob of his foot; he must not move or turn over —for fear of waking 'the baby.' And yet he must not take a bed in another pari of the house, becauso 'the baby' might ho at tacked by tho croup, or might cry to havo some one walk up and down the floor with it n his rrmr, and then he would not be wi'.ldn call. In short when 'the baby' slept, tho whole house was under a spell, whose enchantment consisted in profound eiler.ee and unbrokou stillness* and all who came within the magic circle were at once laid un der its influence. "On the other hand, when 'the baby' waa awake, the household was equally subject to the tyranny which seemed to be a condniou ot its existence. If Mr. Vincent's watch chain attracted its attention, the watch must come forth, and be delivered over, ot the imminent risk, and to the frequent smashing of crystals and face. If 'the baby' cried for the porcelain vaso on the mantel, or ihe lit tle Sevres card basket on the table, they were immediately on the floor, or in the 'crib' beside it, and were soon afterward* in many pieces. If it wanted papa's papers, either they must bo forthwith given up, or buth baby and mother wonttl ooncur iu cai sing a domestic storm. If an important pa per, or aDything else of peculiar value was missed, when inquiry was made for it, a ftnr chances were twenty to one that it had been given to 'the baby,'—and on all occasions, Mr. Vincent's chagrin or vexation was treat ed with merited indiTerence. If, as often happened, alter obtaining everything within its mother's reach, and breaking everything that could be broken, 'tho baby' still crioq immoderately and annoyitigly, it was quits as tnuch as Vincent's life was worth to ex press the least vexation or impatience.— Ha might be loused flora a sound sleep, and forced to get up in tho cold ten times in the j night for something for ' tile baby,' and yet a muimur or a natural wish expressed to know the necessity o 1 all thesn things, was high treason to the household sovreignty. The lawful master ol tho premises had sunk 1 like a deposed monarch, to utter insignifi cance, and become tho lowest servant to tho young usurper. The mother was the Grand Vizier of the Sultana, and in her name luled every one, herself included, with an iron rod. There was no law but the will and. pleasure of the deposit, an I no appral from her determinations. And this was the wo man whom Abraham Glenn had lovud !" (Measures of illntrimony- I was married lor my money. That was ton years ago, I havo had bad luck as a wife, for my husband and I havo scarcely one laste in common. Ho wishes to live in the country, which I hate. I liko the the ther mometer at 75 degrees, which ho hates. Ho. like; to havo tho children brought up at home inyiead of at school which I hate. I ; 'ike music ar.d wish to go to concerts, which he hales. He likes roa->l pork, wlii.h I huts; and 1 like minced veal, which ho nates. i There is ono thing which wo both like, and I that in what we cannot both have, though iwe aro always tryina tor it—the lart word, j I have had bad luck as a mother, for two such huge, selfish, passionate, unmanagea ble boys never tnrmented a feeble woman since boys began I wish 1 had called them both Cain. At this moment they havo just quarrelled over their marble* Morlt-. iner has torn off Orville's collar, and Orville has applied his coit like hands upon Morti mer's ribswhile the baby Zettobia, in my lup, who never sleeps more than an hour at a time, and cries all the time she is awake, and has been aroused by their din to scream in chorus. I have had bad luok as a house, keeper for I never kept a chambermaid more than three weeks.—And as to cooks, I look back bewildered on the long phantasmagoria of faces flitlinfgnorraly through my kitchen, as a mariner remembers a rapid succession of thundor gusts and hxrrioanen in the Qulf of Mexico. My new chambermaid bounced out of the room yesterday, flirting het dust ers and muttering, "real old maid after all!" just because 1 showed her a table on which I could wrilo "slut" with my finger in the dust. 1 nevor see my plump, happy sisters, and then glance in tho mirror at my'own'ca davorous, long doleful visage without" Visit ing myself an old maid. IJo it everyday of my life. Yet half of my sex marry its I did—not for love, but for fear ! for fear of dying old maids.—Jfrs. E. B Hall.