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The Boy King.

JOASH became a king when only seven years old, younger than most of the boys who read this account of him. His previous life, though brief, had been eventful. When quite an infant he escaped death just by the skin of his teeth. His wicked grandmother murdered all his brothers and sisters, and expected she had murdered him too; but by the good providence of God he escaped. The object of this wicked woman was to make herself Queen of Judea; but she knew that so long as any of her grandchildren lived it would be difficult to get possession of the throne, and to keep it if she got it, and so she resolved, with cruel purpose, to kill them all. Joash only escaped, his extreme infancy being probably the cause of his not having being noticed by the murderers. His elder sister secreted him, but with the connivance of Jehoiada, the priest, a truly wise and good man. For six years the child was kept hidden from the world. Had the queen got to know of his existence, not only his own life, but the lives of his preservers would certainly have been sacrificed. Meanwhile, the blood-stained grandmother had it all her own way, and a bad way it was. She lived a wicked, ungodly, idolatrous life, and brought many and sore evils upon the kingdom. At length the people became very much dissatisfied, and were ready to rise in rebellion against her.

When good Jehoiada saw how things were drifting, he thought the time had come for making a bold effort to place young Joash on the throne. He therefore took the most influential men of the kingdom into his confidence, and concerted a scheme for the overthrow of the queen's government, and the restoration of Joash. The scheme succeeded as well as could have been wished; the queen was destroyed, her government overthrown, and Joash crowned and proclaimed king, and the people readily acquiesced in the revolution. As Joash was only seven years old at the time, it is not to be thought he could be able for a good while to guide the affairs of his kingdom by his own judgment. Jehoiada was what we would call the regent of the kingdom. While everything was done in the king's name, Jehoiada inspired and guided the government. And though in after years Joash became king in fact as well as in name, and took a leading part in the government, Jehoiada still continued his chief counsellor, and little or nothing of importance was done without his approval. After the death of

this good and great man, Joash went all wrong. He got corrupted with flattery, and intoxicated with pride, and deluded with the lying vanities of idolatry. He abandoned himself to licentiousness, forsook the service of Jehovah, restored the worship of false gods, and as a consequence, the whole kingdom sank into utter disorganization and degeneracy. Joash seems to have been a soft, easy-going man, without a will of his own, fond of pleasure, fond of indulgence, a man, as we sometimes say, without backbone or grit. So long as Jehoiada remained to keep him right, he did well enough. He allowed himself to be swayed by the mightier mind and the stronger will. But as soon as this stay was withdrawn, he found his level-the mire. And, as we have said, in falling himself, he dragged the nation with him. As might be expected, he had a sorrowful end. His own servants conspired against him, and put him to death, and so a dark cloud settled over him. As there are two full accounts of the life of Joash in the Bible, our young friends cannot do better than find them out and read them.

The Merchant's Clerk.

CHAPTER I.

ONE winter afternoon, very many years ago, long before railways were introduced, and various other inventions known, which now we wonder how we ever did without, a poor ragged-looking boy stood in the private room of Linkins and Harvey, the great foreign merchants in Leadenhall-street. He was apparently about fourteen years of age, tall, and ungainly in appearance, and with nothing particularly remarkable about his countenance, except a pair of dark brown eyes, which seemed to be looking all ways at once, so restless and bright were they.

'Hallo, sir!' cried Mr. Harvey, turning round on his stool where he sat writing at his desk, 'Where in the world did you spring from, eh ?'

'Please, sir, one of the gentlemen that sits in the big room brought me in.'

'Oh! he did, did he,' said Mr. Harvey aloud; then he muttered to himself, 'I suppose he would say that somebody wanted me, and I should tell him to bring him in.' 'Well, and what's your business with me?' he enquired of the urchin, whose eyes were fixed on him so keenly.

'Please, sir, I want to know if you would let me come into your office and be your errand boy?'

'Oh! so that's your business is it,' said the merchant, putting his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets, and surveying the boy narrowly; but I am not sure-I am not at all sure'-he added gravely, 'whether your clothes would last you to run many errands in.'

A jovial old gentleman was Mr. Harvey, and fond of his jokes, but withal possessed of a warm and good heart.

The lad looked at him earnestly for a few seconds, and seemed as if he were trying to read his countenance, but it was impenetrable; then he said, 'But I could soon earn better, sir, and they would last till then.'

'What's your name? Where do you come from?' was the next inquiry. But before the boy had time to answer, Mr. Linkins, the other partner, entered the room, looking surprised beyond measure at Mr. Harvey's guest.

'Where in the world'-he began.

'Stay, stay, my dear fellow!' said his partner, 'don't be impatient; I was just questioning our young friend here of his antecedents, when you came in and interrupted us. Now, my boy, answer my question, and let's know all about you.'

Mr. Linkins shrugged his shoulders, and sat down in a chair by the table, his eyes fixed scrutinizingly on the dilapidated-looking urchin before him.

'What's your name? Where do you come from?' repeated Mr. Harvey.

'Please, sir, my name's James Howard, and I come from Lincolnshire.'

'Lincolnshire ?' said Mr. Linkins scornfully, 'a likely story, indeed!'

'Now, now, my dear Robert,' said his partner, patting him on the back, 'do not speak in that tone, let us hear before we condemn;' then turning to the boy, whose brow had crimsoned at the idea of his veracity being doubted, he said, 'So you are from Lincolnshire, are you; that is a long way to come, especially in weather like this. Pray, how did you reach London ?'

'I walked, sir.'

'Walked!' repeated Mr. Linkins, in a sinister tone; 'I should think so, indeed!'

'You walked, did you,' replied Mr. Harvey, taking no notice of his partner's remark. 'Do you know how far it is?'

'It is just 150 miles from Welland, sir, the village where I come from.'

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'And how long have you been on the road, my boy?' asked the merchant in a kindly tone, as he looked down at the poor lad's feet, and saw how blistered they were (for they were both hoseless and shoeless).

'I don't rightly know, sir; I kept count the first few days; but I lost my way lots of times, and was nearly buried in the snow twice, for it came on one night when I was asleep in a barn, and when I woke in the morning it was still snowing, so I stopped where I was till it gave over, when I set out again; but I got on the wrong path, and kept walking on and on for miles, till I got back to the very barn where I had started from. The other time'-he stopped suddenly, for his eye happened to glance at Mr. Linkins, whose gaze was fixed on the ceiling, a very contemptuous smile curling round the corners of his mouth, at which the lad's cheeks crimsoned and the fire flashed out of his eyes; then looking at Mr. Harvey, and seeing the interest depicted on his countenance, his gaze softened, and he continued : 'The other time I was walking along a road just as dark was drawing on, and I saw in the distance, about a hundred yards off, a hovel, which I thought would be just the thing for me to sleep in, so I aimed for it; but the snow was so deep, and, moreover, filled all the drains, and so I walked straight into one, and should have been dead in no time, but a man saw me disappear, and got me out again. So what with one thing and another, sir, I don't rightly know how long I've been coming. I know I started from Welland soon after harvest, which was late this year. What day is it now, sir?'

'It is the 26th of November,' replied the merchant. 'I suppose,' he continued, 'that you did not get much to eat on the way, my boy; did anybody give you a meal now and then ?'

'Not often, sir, and them that did was nearly as poor as myself, so I couldn't eat as much as I wanted.'

'No! no!' replied his questioner, 'right! right!' 'Well, what do you say, Robert,' he inquired, turning to his partner, 'shall we try him for a month; you know we are on the look out for an errand boy ?'

Just as you like,' was the answer; "though if I had my way I should pretty soon send him about his business.'

'But he has no business, my dear fellow, that is the misfortune; he has no business!'

'He would soon find some,' was the reply. 'I wouldn't trust him as far as I could see him!'

'What do you mean, sir?' said the boy fiercely. 'Hush! hush!' answered Mr. Harvey, holding his finger up. No words! no words! this gentleman and I are masters here; we are not used to being spoken to like that.'

'I beg your pardon, sir,' said the lad humbly; 'I forgot myself!'

'Yes, yes; but you must take care; we are very stern, I especially, as you will learn to your cost when you are under us. Now we engage you for one month from this day, and you will be paid your wages every week-five shillings. In the meantime, go to my house, and tell my housekeeper to give you a good dinner. Stay, I will write my orders, in case she should-ahem; well, it will be better to do so anyway, so here is my address, and this,' putting a piece of silver into the boy's hand as he spoke, 'is for you to buy a thing or two to spruce yourself up a bit, for you are an important man now, sir!' said the old merchant, putting on a look of pomposity; 'you are errand boy to the great firm of Linkins and Harvey, which is second to none in this great city!' 'You don't expect to set eyes on that ragged urchin again, do you?' said Mr. Linkins to his partner, after the boy had left the room. 'If so, you'll find yourself mistaken, I imagine.'

'Do you think so?' replied Mr. Harvey, quietly. 'Well, we differ there.'

'You seem to have taken quite a fancy to the lad,' rejoined Mr. Linkins, petulantly; ' for my part, I have never seen a more disreputable-looking urchin in my life.'

'Perhaps so, Robert; but he put me in mind of myself when I was homeless, and I might even say mealless, and your father took me by the hand and saved me! Yes, saved me, Robert; for who can say what would have been my fate, alone in this great city, if he had not taken compassion on me? and, as ye would that men should do unto you, even so do ye unto them;' but we must be very stern and particular with the boy,' added the old gentleman, resuming his usual bustling manner; 'very stern, especially myself, for I am in a measure responsible for him, as I engaged him. I don't know,' he rejoined, putting his head on one side, and looking very grave and solemn, if it would not be as well to have a rod popped inside that cupboard, ready for any emergency. Eh, Robert! eh! What do you say ?'

CHAPTER II.

In the meantime the subject of the foregoing con

versation was endeavouring to discover the address which Mr. Harvey had given him, which he did not find so easy to do, for there were so many turnings, right and left, that it was a continued puzzle to him to know which to take. However, by dint of questioning and keeping his memory on the utmost stretch, he managed to reach the house at last. On knocking at the door it was opened by a trim-looking servant, who, eyeing him superciliously, inquired what might be his business.

'I've brought this from Mr. Harvey,' he answered, putting the note into her hand. She took it from him with the very tips of her fingers, and then shut the door in his face.

On taking the twisted piece of paper to the housekeeper, that worthy deliberately took her spectacles out of their case, rubbing them carefully with her pockethandkerchief, ere adjusting them on her nose, preparatory to perusing the epistle, which it was a labour to her to decipher. Not that it was written badly, far from it. Mr. Harvey wrote a very legible, business-like hand, very different to some in his position now-a-days, whose illegibility is its chief characteristic. But Mrs. Johnson was only a 'poor scholar,' as she termed it, for a person able to read and write was, a hundred years ago, looked upon with no great respect.

'Bridget,' she called out, when she had succeeded in deciphering the letter, 'where's the boy that brought this ?"

'Lawks, ma'am!' was the astonished rejoinder, 'however should I know, I never asked him where he was going!'

'Don't be impudent, Bridget,' said her mistress sharply; 'go at once and see if you can get sight of him, and if so, call him back, for your master says he's to have a good meal, for he's nearly starving.'

'Well, to be sure!' exclaimed the pert damsel, with a toss of the head, 'why the likes of him is'nt fit to set foot inside a decent dwelling, let alone''Bridget!' interrupted the housekeeper in a tone which that maiden knew well, 'go and do my bidding at once, and then see about setting some eatables out, as cook is away. I shall see the lad with my own eyes, and judge of his appearance myself.'

Thus ordered, Bridget went, in anything but a pleasant spirit, to the door, which she opened hastily, when there on the door-step stood the boy, whom in her hurry she nearly overturned.