as could be found in any other spot on earth with the same
population. He loved it, for he said that here was the
first place he ever found a real home, and here was the
place he had for the first time been recompensed for his
toil by receiving over a bare subsistence. Now, did Waco
love Mr. Brann, or did it hold him the foul slanderer
of her purest and best, as some claimed him to be? Let
us see. Every effort was made to throw cold water on
any turnout to his funeral; it was told around the city
that no women would attend and that no flowers would
be sent, but what was the result? From his home to the
cemetery the sidewalks were crowded, save at Baylor
University, the place that is responsible for his death, and
hundreds of men and women who had no carriages walked
from his home over two miles to the cemetery, and when
the long funeral cortege passed within the gates, around
his grave was a sea of human faces unequaled in numbers
ever before gathered around any other grave in Waco.
Yet Waco had lately laid to rest within that cemetery
a man whom she dearly loved and on whom Texas had
been proud to confer her high places, a man who in bygone
years had so gallantly led her sons on so many bloody
fields. As to the flowers, no greater profusion was ever
seen on any other grave in Waco, or, perhaps, in Texas,
a tribute that the pure and stainless women of Waco paid
to the martyred dead. At his funeral was noticed a greater
number, both from the city and county, of the sun-kissed
sons of toil than had ever been gathered here around any
other grave. Why were they there in such numbers?
Why did they bow their manly heads o'er the coffin of