_Run Out of Town by the Chadbourn Police--Cash Running Low--Getting Schedules Mixed--The First Blush of Shame._ It would be hard to describe my feelings as I started up town. I was hungry and ate a good supper, though I felt like crying as the cashier took my twenty-five cents, for I had never been penniless in a strange town in my life, and now my stock of nerve was weighed exactly by just what money I had left; but the worst thing that hindered my progress, I was heartily ashamed of what I was going to attempt to do. Arriving at Market Square, I experienced no difficulty shortly afterwards in striking an acquaintance with a rather shabbily dressed young man, who seemed to know all about the trains. Finding that I was eager to leave at once, he remarked: "You have just about fifteen minutes to leave Wilmington on a freight train to-night. The last freight train pulls out at 8:15 to-night, and it is now 8 o'clock." Luckily what little baggage I owned was with me, and in another moment I was rapidly walking to the place named. I quickly saw this wouldn't do, though, for it was nearly a mile to the depot, and turning into a residence street, I broke into a run. Panting for breath I reached the railroad yards. There was no sign of a train pulling out, nor was there one making up, and so far as I could see there was not the slightest evidence of life about the yards, and it began to look like another practical joke had been played on me. Just across the tracks at this point are a good many small tenement houses, for the most part occupied by colored people, who are employed by the railroad company. Calling out one of the occupants of these houses, I asked him if the 8:15 freight had gone. "The schedule's been changed, and there ain't no 8:15 freight," said the darkey. "The last night freight for Florence left about an hour ago." To reach Jacksonville, I would have to go through Florence, S. C., and Savannah, Ga. "If you'll go to Hilton Bridge to-morrow evening," said the darkey, "you might be able to catch a passenger train that passes about 3 p. m. on Sundays." Hilton Bridge spans the Cape Fear River near this point, and all trains are required by the law to slow up before crossing. For this information the man received a buttonless khaki suit. The next morning was Sunday, and after paying my lodging I had but $1.35. Hardship was certainly beginning to stare me in the face at an early stage of the trip. Oh! how I wished now I had stayed at home, where my every wish had been gratified by tender, loving hands, but it was too late! My pride was up in arms, and I would see the game through to the bitter end. On this day I ate neither breakfast nor dinner, and early in the afternoon I repaired to the bridge to wait.