Without loss of time I handed over my book, and he wrote down R. T. Davis, Hopewell, Fla., and handed me twenty-five cents. (As yet I have been unable to locate one of these gentlemen since returning home.) Madison is the Southern terminal of the road, and at this point I left the train in company with the conductor, who invited me to lunch. The freight bound for Tallahassee pulled into Madison at 4 p. m. I had no trouble in enlisting the sympathy of the conductor, a very genial sort of fellow, who told me to go back to the caboose and keep out of sight until we reached Tallahassee. We reached the capital city sometime after dark. Here are a few points about Tallahassee which are in great contrast to Jacksonville. There are no paved streets in Tallahassee; if so, I didn't see them. They are all ill-lighted--one greasy street lamp post about every six blocks. Little business. In fact, one store out of every three was vacant--those that were open were not selling anything. All the stores are on one big Main street. A street car line was started, but the town couldn't support it, and it went to smash. The leaves and other rubbish had collected upon the sidewalks in great drifts. The fine dust floating in the air came near giving me the asthma, and with a feeling of relief I wended my way back to the railroad yards. To keep warm that night I helped the darkey fire the engine at the ice factory, which is located near the depot, until 10 p. m., when I boarded a freight train bound for Grand River Junction, ninety-nine miles away, at which place I landed about 3 a. m. The next division was a stretch of a hundred miles or more from the Junction to Pensacola. This was the L. & N. road. I have since learned that it is about the hardest road in the United States to beat. No long freights pass over the road--most of the trains are "mixed," that is to say, a few box-cars and a few passenger cars. On this night the train for Pensacola had already made up. It consisted of two or three box-cars and the same number of passenger coaches. The conductor was in the depot working on some freight bills, when I approached him, requesting permission to ride on the "blind baggage" to Pensacola. "The same old story," said he, looking up. "Sorry, young man, but we can't carry you on this road." I next went to the engineer, and there met with the same refusal. Then to the express car I hurried, for the train would soon start; but again, I was met with a rebuff. There were no stores in sight, and few houses. Surely Grand River Junction would be a most dismal place to get left in, especially in my condition--only fifty cents, and that borrowed money. In desperation I ran to the front part of the engine. In the intense darkness, both fireman and engineer failed to observe a silent form spring upon the cow-catcher. The wheels began to revolve, and barring all accidents, I was due to reach Pensacola in time for dinner.