To this followed a sentiment that cannot be repeated here. It was too gross. All drunk to it but Armour. He could not, for it involved a foul slander upon the other sex, and he had a sister whose pure kiss was yet warm upon his lips. The individual who proposed the toast marked this omission, and pointed it out by saying-- "What's the matter, Harry? Is not the wine good?" The colour mounted to the young man's face as he replied, with a forced smile-- "Yes, much better than the sentiment." "What ails the sentiment?" asked the propounder of it, in a tone of affected surprise. "I have a sister," was the brief, firm reply of Armour. "So Charley, here, was just saying," retorted the other, with a merry laugh; "and, what is more, that he'd bet a sixpence you were tied to her apron-string, and would not be here to-night! Ha! ha!" The effect of this upon the mind of Armour was decisive. He loved, nay, almost revered his sister. She had been like an angel of innocence about his path from early years. He knew her to be as pure as the mountain snow-flake. And yet that sister's influence over him was sneered at by one who had just uttered a foul-mouthed slander upon her whole sex. The scales fell instantly from his eyes. He saw the dangerous ground upon, which he stood; while the character of his associates appeared in a new light. They were on a road that he did not wish to travel. There were serpents concealed amid the flowers that sprung along their path, and he shuddered as he thought of their poisonous fangs. Quick as a flash of light, these things passed through his mind, and caused him to act with instant resolution. Rising from the chair he had already taken, he retired, without a word, from the room. A sneering laugh followed him, but he either heard it not or gave it no heed.