A digression of amusing nature will not be out of place here:  The steamboats from Sacramento then landed at Pacific street wharf, and arrived usually about 9:30.  The Oakland ferry boat made her last trip over a few minutes after the Sacramento boat landed her passengers.  Governor Foote had his residence at Clinton.  Saturday morning one of his daughters called at my office and said that her father was at Benicia, and they expected him home that night.  “But,” she continued, “you know what a terrible excitement there is in the city, and how likely father is to take active part in anything which enlists his sympathies or stirs his feelings; and we all fear that he will do something imprudent.  I know he will be very strong on the Law and Order side, and it will be better for us all if he will come directly home and not stay in the city to get mixed up in these terrible troubles.”  She requested me, therefore, to be at the boat that night when she landed, and to prevail upon her father, if he were otherwise disposed, to take the boat for Oakland.  I promised, and that night I took a hack for the wharf, a quarter of an hour before the usual time of the boat’s arrival.  As the hack turned from Montgomery street into Washington, I noticed a crowd at the door-way of the Bank Exchange.  Calling to the driver to stop a moment, I entered the saloon.  I learned that the boat had already arrived, a half hour ahead of ordinary time.  My disappointment was in a moment sunk in my surprise.  I heard Governor Foote’s voice in loud tones, toward the front of the room.  It was a surprise to see him in a barroom, for he was not addicted to drinking, and except in the Orleans at Sacramento during the Legislature, when he was candidate for United States Senator, I had never seen him in a saloon.  But that which most astonished me was the Governor’s warmth of approval of the Vigilance Committee, and his animadversions and regrets in regard to some of his friends, who had taken active part on the Law and Order side.  He stood the centre figure of the crowd close about him, declaiming with his accustomed fluency and energy.  I left the saloon, dismissed the hack, and walked to my own quarters, ruminating on the common saying that, “white man is mighty uncertain.”  Thence on Governor Foote was a red-hot “Vigilante.”

Sunday morning, May 18th, there were, besides the Sheriff and his deputies, the officers and guards, a force of 106 Law and Order men, armed with muskets, inside the County Jail, ready to defend it against the expected attack of the Vigilance troops.  Before noon they came from every part of the city, several thousand strong.  A piece of artillery was trained in front of the jail entrance, with men to handle it.  The armed force in the jail and upon the wall appeared ready for the encounter.  The Commander of the Committee forces demanded from the Sheriff the surrender of Casey and Cora.  It was refused.  There was some parleying.  It ended in the withdrawal