about to be
extinguished by force of arms. But adversity caused no changes in the
President's demeanour. When he bade farewell to his good old wife--perhaps
it was a final farewell--he cheered and comforted her, and when the
weeping citizens and friends of many years gathered at his little cottage
to bid him goodbye he chided them for their lack of faith in the cause,
and encouraged them to believe that victory would crown the Boers'
efforts. Seven months before, Kruger stood on the verandah of his
residence, and, doffing his hat to the first British prisoners that
arrived in the city, asked his burghers not to rejoice unseemingly; in May
the old man, about to flee before the enemy, inspired his people to take
new courage, and ridiculed their ideas that all was lost.

Whether the Boers were in the first flush of victory or in the depths of
despair Paul Kruger was ever the same to them--patriot, adviser,
encourager, leader, and friend.

It was an easy matter to see the President when he was at his residence at
Pretoria, and he appeared to be deeply interested in learning the opinions
of the many foreigners who arrived in his country. The little verandah of
the Executive Mansion--a pompous name for the small, one-storey
cottage--was the President's favourite resting and working place during
the day. Just as in the days of peace he sat there in a big armchair,
discussing politics with groups of his countrymen, so while the war was in
progress he was seated there pondering the grave subjects of the time. The
countrymen who could always be observed with him at almost any time of the
day were missing. They were at the front. Occasionally two or three old
Boers could be seen chatting with him behind Barnato's marble lions, but
invariably they had bandoliers around their bodies and rifles across their
knees. Few of the old Boers who knew the President intimately returned
from the front on leaves-of-absence unless they called on him to explain
to him the tide and progress of the war.

According to his own declaration his health was as good as it ever was,
although the war added many burdens to his life. Although he was
seventy-five years old he declared he was as sprightly as he was twenty
years before, and he seemed to have the energy and vitality of a man of
forty. The reports that his mind was affected were cruel hoaxes which had
not the slightest foundation of fact. The only matter concerning which he
worried was his eyes