rom an upright. It is played like the real 'king,' by being struck with
a special stick or plectrum, and the tone, though less varied than that
of the larger instrument, is equally deep and full.

Another curious Chinese instrument is the 'ou,' which is made of wood,
and fashioned like a crouching tiger. It is hollow, and along its back
run metal teeth, which are played with a small stick or brush. The 'ou'
stands on a hollow pedestal, also of wood, which serves as a sounding
board and increases the tone.

HELENA HEATH.

ETHEL'S GOLDEN OFFERING.

'Granny,' said Ethel Day, one Sunday, 'there was a lady in our seat at
church that I never saw before. She was not very grandly dressed, but
she must have been as rich--as rich as the king.'

'Why do you think so, Ethel?' asked Granny, smiling at the child's
eagerness.

'Because, when the plate was passed to her--for the collection, you
know--she put in a piece of gold money--real gold, I am sure it was. Oh!
I should like to be rich enough to give as much as that.'

Granny was silent for a minute or two; she seemed to be thinking of
something pleasant. 'I know of a golden offering that my little Ethel
could make, if she were willing,' she said presently.

'Tell me what it is then, Granny: I shall be sure to be willing,' cried
Ethel.

'The money the lady gave,' went on Granny, 'was for the poor sick people
in the hospital. Look out of the window, Ethel, and you will see another
kind of gold--a kind not counted so precious, perhaps, but really quite
as beautiful.'

Ethel looked out: she only saw the flowers in her own garden. Lovely
autumn flowers they were, for Ethel's father was a gardener, and he
often gave his little daughter choice roots, or cuttings, for her plot
of ground. But Ethel was accustomed to the sight of her flowers: dear as
they were to her, and yellow as gold though they might be, Granny surely
did not mean to compare them with the lady's half-sovereign.

That was Granny's meaning, however. 'There is a sick woman in the
village,' she told Ethel, 'who cannot go to the hospital. She is so ill
that, although she may live many years, she can never be cured, and so
they cannot take her in. Because her illness has lasted so long, people
have almost forgotten to be kind to her. I have been thinking, Ethel,
that if you could spare a bunch of your flowers for poor Mary Ansell, it
would be a real golden offering.'

It was Ethel's turn to be quiet no