The Daily Ardmoreite. [volume] (Ardmore, Okla.) 1893-current, 1903-03-30
KRUGER IN THE SHADOW.

Amid the olives and lilies of Men
tone bent, unsteady.limbed old man
whose massive frame and jaw sug-
gests behind him stern life Of siren
uous doing, sits listlessly in sight OF
the Mediterranean poking the sand
with his stan. Behind this venerable
figure, attended by an obsequious
lackey, the marble of a patrician villa
CLEANS across the private hedge
floats the sensuous strains of string
music played for pleasure Of the gay.
The old man sees not the purple OF
the tropic sea nor hears the tinkle
OF heart and quaver OF violin. Among
the Affections OF age are darkness and
silence. and now poor old Paul Krug-
er sees and hears dimly.
Alasl this is Dom Paul, "the lion
OF South Africa!" OF all the great
and proud who throng Mentone dur
ing the winter. none have more gold
at their command than he and none
could have more of the follies OF
riches II he listed. The marble villa
and the mercenary man servant are
an odd contrast to the hut on the
veldt and the independent hands Of
that long ago Kruger, and although
the old man thought he would like
to try the conventional luxury he likes
Il not. He has money to a safety,
and his name has been heard from
thrones, but Job in his sack cloth
and ashes was not more cast down
Kruger's withered heart is with the
past and-is all we'll with his con.
science?
God knows as to that for the touch
of Midas has palsied the old mans
tongue. The aged burgher of coun
try which has lost it's name on the
map-greatest president Of an ex,
tinguished republic which was of it.
self groat-he could not well be more
alone. His comforters are Jobs com
forters. and those who should love
him are no more or afar.
For the same motive that the lackey
stands behind his chair, a reporter re
quests a message TO the forgetful
world from the dead in life. The ole
man answers in broken accents:
II have nothing more to live for il
the world. My country has beer
crushed, my wife has gone to her Sa
vior and now the Lord has takeT
away my sight, so that can no longe
'e,.d his holy word His wi, be done
When he calls me am ready and glaC
to go."
| All. yes the same Dom Paul wh'
read the Psalms when Cronje wa
captured at bay in the blistered bee
OF the Modder river, and who in pray
er reminded Jehovah Of his promis,
10 his chosen after "Bobs' had oc
cupied Pretoria AS the Boer of tn,
Beers toys with his staff in the san,
al Mentone, he is oblivious of III
beautiful villa, Of fatters and menlals
His mind is still strong and he 4
still MISUNDERSTANDING. None nee,
ask OF what. Kruger has plenty o
things to mediate upon. To be eX
patriated is doubly melancholy wheI
the man is an exile without cour
try for the reason that his countr!
has been ravished out OF existence
To be such an exile as Kruger en-
genders affection. And the grave il
South Africa which the old man ha
never seen is enough.
Understanding at last. and trium
phing over his baser self, 1t is not to-
late for Paul Kruger to make restitu
tion. and 1t would be nobler to max,
It when charity can fan with divin,
Joy the fllckerlng flame of life. Mone'
will do much for a people who hav,
sacrificed their all on the altar o
country, and the Boers have only hon
or left them
II the broken old man waiting 10
death amid the olives and lilies o
Southern France would but learn tn
poets truth before he goes
For all you can hold in your cold
dead hand
Is what you have given away"
Atlanta Constitution