Marcus, Tiffles, and Patching were out of their seats and at the door with American despatch. Before the car had quite stopped, they had jumped off. Marcus did not notice that, behind him, was a woman struggling between the two rows of seats with a bandbox, a workbasket, an umbrella, and her hoops, all of which caught in turn on one side or the other. Nor did the conductor observe that this burdened and distressed lady was trying to make her way out; for, after looking from the rear of the train, and seeing that three persons had landed, and that there was nobody to get on, he concluded that it would be a waste of time to stop a minute, and so rang the bell to go ahead. The engine driver, equally impatient, jerked the starting lever, and the engine bounded forward like a horse, giving a shock to the train, and nearly upsetting the woman, who was still wrestling with her personal effects between the rows of seats. With a sudden effort, she freed herself, opened the door, and stood upon the platform. The engine had wheezed three times, and she hesitated to jump. She screamed shrilly. The sound entered the ears of Marcus Wilkeson, who was whisking dust and ashes off his clothes with a handkerchief. He ran forward, and saw the predicament of his pale and nervous fellow traveller. She screamed again, as the engine wheezed for the eighth time. Marcus extended his hand. "Jump!" said he; "I'll catch you." She did jump, much to the surprise of Marcus and the two lookers on--thereby indicating decision of character. Marcus caught her in his arms--bandbox, basket, and all--and the train hurried on. "Thank you, sir," said the lady, with some confusion. Then she walked rapidly down the road toward the village, like one who lived there. "A customer for the panorama, perhaps," said Tiffles. "I'm glad you landed her safely." Tiffles had got through his thinking, and was exhilarate again. He laughed so pleasantly, that even Marcus relaxed his grim visage, and smiled. "Not a bad ankle, that," observed Patching, looking at the rapidly retreating form of the rescued woman. Patching, artist-like, was always discovering beauties where nobody else looked for them. Marcus had no eye for the charms of nature that morning, and he responded not to the remark which the artist had addressed to him. Whereupon Patching determined not to speak to Marcus again that day. They followed the mysterious female down the road which led to the village. On the fences, every few rods, were plastered posters announcing the "Panorama of Africa" for that evening, at "Washington Hall"--"Tickets, twenty-five cents"--"Children under twelve years of age, half price," &c., &c. As B. Persimmon, P.M., had said, in one of his letters, some of the posters were stuck upside down. This circumstance did not seem to prevent the population from reading them; for the party observed at least two boys (half prices) in the act of spelling them out between their legs.