My last meeting with President Krüger was on the occasion of the presentation of the celebrated message of sympathy from 30,000 Philadelphia schoolboys. The voluminous document was delivered by James Smith, a New York American District Messenger boy, who was accompanied by one of the editors of a Philadelphia newspaper, Mr. Hugh Sutherland. This opportunity afforded an excellent chance to study the wonderful old man who has piloted the Cape Dutch through so many national storms. If President Krüger had been a handsome, polished, and dignified man the world’s opinion of the Transvaal burgher would have been entirely different, for the descriptions of the typical Boer have had their origin in his personality. He is far from prepossessing; he is entirely lacking in polish or distinction of appearance. He wears a shabby frock coat that looks as though it had never been brushed or cleaned since the day it left a ready-made stock. His clothes, however, are not the most notable nor the most repellent characteristic of the head of the Transvaal government. Mr. Krüger smokes a pipe incessantly, and has an unpleasant habit of expectorating in any place that pleases his momentary fancy, and with very little accuracy of aim; even the front of his clothes shows signs of this habit. His eyes are inflamed, and are seemingly afflicted with some ophthalmic disease which causes the lids to show lines of red under the eyeball. His hair and beard are unkempt, except on state occasions and Sundays, when they are brushed to an oiled nicety. His hands are heavy, as though from great toil; but when he shook hands, he did so in the cordial manner of one who wished to show a heartfelt welcome to his guest. Secretary of State Reitz arranged this meeting at which Jimmie Smith should present the message he had carried so far, and when the little party arrived at the President’s house, he was waiting to receive them in his library. The house in which President Krüger lives is a little, low, unpretentious cottage, such as might be owned by an ordinarily prosperous mechanic or tradesman in a country village. It is a one-story building, with a wide veranda along the front. On either side of the entrance is a marble figure of a reclining lion, the gift of Barney Barnato a few years ago, when he wished to gain favor in order to further some of the great schemes which eventually were the direct cause of the downfall of the two South African republics.