"I had not seen my father more than half a dozen times, so far as childish memory goes; but he was always kind and loving, and very gentle with us. We had lost our mother before we knew her; and Marva and myself, twin children, had been sent from home, we could not tell when, to be educated at Tiflis. There our father had some old friends, and being so seldom at home, by reason of this perpetual war, he had done the best he could for us. I was placed in the German town on the left bank of the Kur, and under the care of a learned man, famous even in the "City of many tongues" for his knowledge of all useful languages. He had several English pupils, and admiring Shakespeare as the Germans do, he made us almost as familiar with English as if we were born to it. But Marva, my sister, had her education in the school of a French convent on the other side of the river. Twins as we were, and pining long at this unnatural severance, the force of events, and the power of education, drove us further and further apart, until the early divergencies of tastes and dispositions became so hardened and widened that our mutual love was vanishing. "The murder of my father--for it could be nothing else--occurred in the autumn of 1852; but it was not known in Tiflis until three months later, for the city had long been in Russian hands, and Shamyl's victorious troops allowed very little communication. Even when known, it was kept from me, for some time longer, as I have reason to believe, by order of the College authorities. At last I knew it by a letter from Shamyl himself, or written by his orders--for he dispensed very largely with literature--which it took me a long time to make out, for I had almost forgotten the Avar tongue. How he smuggled it to me, I know not; but at last I understood it to this effect. "'Young Imar, the son of Dadian. The Russians have slain thy father in cold blood. Thou art now the Chief of the Kheusurs. Thou art not of Islam; but if thou hast any blood in thy body, come without delay, and have thy just revenge upon the accursed heathen. Shamyl, the Imaum.' "What youth of spirit and health and strength could hesitate for an hour? I had many Russian friends at Tiflis, and all of the higher rank made light of the barbarian tumult, as they called it, among the distant mountains. They begged me at least to wait until the truth of the Muridist outlaw's words could be properly established; for they said that he could outlie a Greek, or even an Armenian. But I broke from them all, bade farewell to Marva, and in shorter time than space required, presented myself to Shamyl.