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DARK DOINGS.—­Mrs. MARTHA RICKS, the emancipated black slave, who came all the way from Liberia to pay Her Gracious MAJESTY a morning call, may be now known as “The QUEEN’s Black Woman,” or as a companion silhouette to “SALISBURY’s Black Man.”  Of course she will go back laden with valuable presents, quite a wealthy old lady, or “Ricks Pecuniarum.”

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THE DUFFER IN POLITICS.

My country neighbours at Mount Duffer are not literary.  So very remote from this condition are they, that they regard men of letters as “awful men,” in the Shakspearian sense of the word.  Consequently, since those papers began to appear, sometimes, in the pages of Mr. Punch, I have risen in the general esteem.  Even JOHN DUC MACNAB has been heard to admit, that though the MAC DUFFER is “nae gude ava’ with the rod or the rifle, he’s a fell ane with the pen in his hand.  Nae man kens what he means, he’s that deep.”  In consequence of the spread of this flattering belief, I have been approached by various local Parties, to sound my fathomless depths as a possible Candidate.

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First came a deputation of Jacobites.  They were all ladies, of different ages, young and old; all wore ornaments in which the locks of Queen MARY, CHARLES THE FIRST, Prince CHARLIE, and other Saints and Martyrs, were conspicuously displayed.  Would I stand as a Jacobite? they asked, and generally in the interests of Romance and Royalism.  I said that I would be delighted; but inquired as to whether we had not better wait for Female Suffrage.  That seemed our best chance, I said.  They replied, that FLORA MACDONALD had no vote, and what was good enough for her was good enough for them.  I then hinted that it would be well to know for which King, or Queen, I was to unfurl the banner at Glenfinnon.  I also suggested that the modern Crofters did not seem likely to rally round us.  The first question provoked a split, or rather several splits in our Party.  It appeared that some five or six Pretenders of both sexes, and of intricate genealogies, had their advocates.  An unpleasant scene followed, and things were said which could never be forgiven.  The deputation, which had been expected to stay to luncheon, retired in tears, exclaiming for a variety of monarchs all “over the water.”

The local Gladstonians came next.  I had never declared myself, they said.  Was I for Home Rule?  I said we must first review Mr. GLADSTONE’s numerous writings about HOMER, and then come to Home Rule.  “HOMER stops the way!” Were Mr. GLADSTONES Homeric theories compatible with a rational frame of mind?  Here I felt very strong, and animated with a keen desire to impart information.  The deputation said all this was ancient history.  As to Home Rule itself, they said it really did not matter.  What they wanted was, free poaching, free private whiskey-stills, free land, and a large head