provisions.” Them rapscallions took in four hundred and sixty-five dollars in that three nights.  I never see money hauled in by the wagon-load like that before.  By and by, when they was asleep and snoring, Jim says: “Don't it s'prise you de way dem kings carries on, Huck?” “No,” I says, “it don't.” “Why don't it, Huck?” “Well, it don't, because it's in the breed.  I reckon they're all alike.” “But, Huck, dese kings o' ourn is reglar rapscallions; dat's jist what dey is; dey's reglar rapscallions.” “Well, that's what I'm a-saying; all kings is mostly rapscallions, as fur as I can make out.” “Is dat so?” “You read about them once--you'll see.  Look at Henry the Eight; this 'n 's a Sunday-school Superintendent to _him_.  And look at Charles Second, and Louis Fourteen, and Louis Fifteen, and James Second, and Edward Second, and Richard Third, and forty more; besides all them Saxon heptarchies that used to rip around so in old times and raise Cain.  My, you ought to seen old Henry the Eight when he was in bloom.  He _was_ a blossom.  He used to marry a new wife every day, and chop off her head next morning.  And he would do it just as indifferent as if he was ordering up eggs. 'Fetch up Nell Gwynn,' he says.  They fetch her up. Next morning, 'Chop off her head!'  And they chop it off. 'Fetch up Jane Shore,' he says; and up she comes, Next morning, 'Chop off her head'--and they chop it off. 'Ring up Fair Rosamun.'  Fair Rosamun answers the bell.  Next morning, 'Chop off her head.'  And he made every one of them tell him a tale every night; and he kept that up till he had hogged a thousand and one tales that way, and then he put them all in a book, and called it Domesday Book--which was a good name and stated the case.  You don't know kings, Jim, but I know them; and this old rip of ourn is one of the cleanest I've struck in history.  Well, Henry he takes a notion he wants to get up some trouble with this country. How does he go at it--give notice?--give the