stances had invariably frustrated his efforts at the very moment of their seeming realisation.
Year after year went by without affording him an opportunity of carrying out his plans, and as the seasons came round he returned again and again to the Alps, and in later years he twice visited the Caucasus also ; yet in spite of his unbounded delight in these familiar mountains, his unquenchable desire to look on the great Himalayan peaks remained un gratified, although he never relinquished the idea that the time must surely come when his hopes and ambitions would reach their fulfilment.
The long awaited opportunity came on June 20, 1895, when he sailed with his companions for Bombay. The party started in the highest spirits; he writes: "The ambition of my life is within my grasp"—"there will be no need for anxiety; the expedition is much less formidable than the first Caucasian."
It is only with a very deep sense of reticence and reserve that I present for publication in this volume some extracts from my husband's private letters to myself. I only do so in the hope that the interest in his book may be thereby enhanced, and that those who had looked forward to hearing some account of this expedition on his return may read from his own pen some of his experiences, and some of the hopes and fears that animated him on the eve of his first attempt on Nanga Parbat.
