Mr. Henry Souter has been kind enough to send us the following interesting letter from his brother Major N. M. Souter, A. D. C. to Sir James Willcocks, who is in command of the Indian troops at the front.
The place,—writes.—Major Souter, is a sheet of ice, and it is most confoundedly cold. Absolutely stinking cold. It freezes all day and at night it is perfect hell Th fellows day after day the trenches! It is a little trying after doing every day of a Nowshera hot weather—six months of it to he! day. I landed at Marseilles when for the first time it was really pleasant, and then this, seven weeks afterwards. [am quite fit, but one feels Ihave had three most interesting experiences lately. The first was dear old Lord Bobs' visit to us little over a week ago. I command ed the Guard of Honour here at out Headquarters, and then as A. D. C. accompanied him and my General round the whole of our Corps, or rather those of them that were in the trenches. It was a porte ure to see his delight at Indian troops again, His memory was wonderful, and his brain as active and as keen as ever.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.