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.