the king and the duke fairly laughed their bones loose over the way they'd served them people.  The duke says: “Greenhorns, flatheads!  I knew the first house would keep mum and let the rest of the town get roped in; and I knew they'd lay for us the third night, and consider it was _their_ turn now.  Well, it _is_ their turn, and I'd give something to know how much they'd take for it.  I _would_ just like to know how they're putting in their opportunity.  They can turn it into a picnic if they want to--they brought plenty 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 th