THERE was an old man of Dartmoor, who for many years obtained his livelihood by looking after the cattle distributed over those wild moorland hills. At last, through infirmity and old age, and the constant and continual exposure to all kinds of weather, his sight entirely failed him, so that he had to seek an asylum in one of the West of England infirmaries to end his brief remaining days. While there he was frequently visited by one of his granddaughters, who would occasionally read him portions of the word of God. One day, when this little girl was reading to him the first chapter of the first epistle of John, when she reached the seventh verse, “And the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin,” the old man raised himself and stopped the little girl, saying with great earnestness :— “Is that there, my dear?” “Then read it to me again ; I never heard the like before.” The little girl read again :— “And the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin.” “You are quite sure that is there?” “Then take my hand and lay my finger on the passage, for I should like to feel it.” So she took the old blind man’s hand, and placed his bony finger on the verse, when he said :— “Now read it to me again.” The little girl read with her soft, sweet voice :— “And the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin.” “You are quite sure that is there?” “Then if any one should ask you how I died, tell them I died in the faith of these words :— “And the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin.” And with that the old man withdrew his hand, his head fell softly back on the pillow, and he silently passed into the presence of Him, whose “blood cleanseth us from all sin.”