likely that we shall ever see his like again in this
community. Davis was cast in a different mold mentally, a
man of quite another type. He was sturdy and practical
and took the world precisely as he found it. It was indeed
a strange fate that brought these two men face to face
in deadly conflict and made of Davis the instrument to put
an end to Brann's earthly career. Both men loved and
were beloved. Widows and orphans mourn them. Let the
dead rest in peace, for good can be said of each.

It is the manifest duty of this community to forbear
from discussion of what might have been, or who sowed
the wind that brought the whirlwind. At the best, years
of patience, unselfish, earnest work will be needed to restore
our city to the place it might hold in the esteem of men.
The fool will say: "It makes no difference what others
think." It is a fool's consolation and a fool's argument,
for the cold truth is that not alone the prestige and good
repute of our fair city have been marred, but material
progress and prosperity have been affected. Population,
capital, skill, brawn, industry, morality hold aloof--not
wholly, of course, yet to a degree that is material and
unfortunate. It is possible to remedy this, but not until
we prove to the world that toleration and peace are to rule
here, and that human life is not to be held as the cheapest
thing society has to lose.

The following account of the mobbing of Brann in the
fall preceding his death (see Brann's article "Ropes,
Revolvers and Religion" in Vol. X.) is taken from the