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It affords me muck pleasure to write these introductory words to this, the
latest1 of my friend Paul Bruntotfs books. The scene is set amid the long
and famous range of mountains which separates India from Central Asia.
The ridges and peaks which the author describes, as he saw them in Tehri
State, are but a continuation of my own beloved Nepalese Himalayas. Born
as I was in these mountains, I have a strong affection for the Himalayas, and
the moments spent reading about them- in Brunton's original and attractive
prose have been happy ones.

Only those who have been reared among the forest-clothed ranges and
snow-clad heights of Himalaya will know that he has not over-praised them
but done them simple justice. They must remain the most stupendous sight in
all Asia, nay in all the world.

Prior to leaving the mountains the author visited me for a few days and
during his stay showed me the manuscript of "A Hermit in the Himalayas".
It was then only that I discovered therein a few pages devoted to my own
sudden visit to his retreat, when I crossed the ridges on horseback through
friendship for one whom I regard as a spiritual prophet of our time. Had 1
known that his retentive memory was making silent and secret notes of all that
I said, I might have been a little more careful in my utterances! For I did not
know that he was keeping a journal in which he recorded some of the thoughts,
events and conversations at odd intervals. Fortunately lean trust his discretion
not to publish matters which are not the public's concern.

Tins new book, being but a journal, is to me more interesting than a
studiously composed work, for it necessarily bears an air of intimacy and frank-
ness which can usually be found in diaries and journals alone. It admits one
into the most secret thoughts of the gifted writer. He told me that when he
looked through the pages before showing them to me he found them to be
1 This was written in 1936.