"Well, I did," said Willie, "I saw others doing it, and so I asked to borrow a book; then I lent a slate pencil, and asked a boy for a knife, and did several such things. I supposed it was allowed." "Oh, but we all do it," said Burt, reddening. "There isn't any sense in the old rule; and nobody could keep it; nobody does." "I will, or else I will say I haven't," said Willie. "Do you suppose I would tell ten lies in one heap?" "Oh, we don't call them lies," muttered Johnnie. "There wouldn't be a credit among us at night, if we were so strict." "What of that if you told the truth?" laughed Willie, bravely. In a short time the boys all saw how it was with him. He studied hard, played with all his might in play time; but, according to his account, he lost more credits than any of the rest. After some weeks, the boys answered "Nine" and "Eight" oftener than they used to. Yet the school-room seemed to have grown quieter. Sometimes, when Willie Grant's mark was even lower than usual, the teacher would smile peculiarly, but said no more of disgrace. Willie never preached at them or told tales; but somehow it made the boys ashamed of themselves, just the seeing that this sturdy blue-eyed boy must tell the truth. It was putting the clean cloth by the half-soiled one, you see; and they felt like cheats and story-tellers. They talked him all over, and loved him, if they did nickname him "Scotch Granite," he was so firm about a promise. Well, at the end of the term, Willie's name was very low down on the credit list. When it was read, he had hard work not to cry; for he was very sensitive, and he had tried hard to be perfect. But the very last thing that day was a speech by the teacher, who told of once seeing a man muffled up in a cloak. He was passing him without a look, when he was told the man was General ----, the great hero. "The signs of his rank were hidden, but the hero was there just the same," said the teacher. "And now, boys, you will see what I mean when I give a little gold medal to the most faithful boy--the one really the most conscientiously perfect in his deportment among you. Who shall have it?" "Little Scotch Granite!" shouted forty boys at once; for the child whose name was so "low" on the credit list had made truth noble in their eyes. "A poor man is better than a liar."--_The Lantern._ THE HYACINTH.