"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 country a show? No.All of a sudden he heaves all the tea in Boston Harbor overboard, and whacks out a declaration of independence, and dares them to come on.That was HIS style -- he never give anybody a chance.He had suspicions of his father, the Duke of Wellington.Well, what did he do? Ask him to show up? No --drownded him in a butt of mamsey, like a cat.S'pose people left money laying around where he was -- what did he do? He collared it.S'pose he contracted to do a thing, and you paid him, and didn't set down there and see that he done it -- what did he do? He always done the other thing.
S'pose he opened his mouth -- what then? If he didn't shut it up powerful quick he'd lose a lie every time.That's the kind of a bug Henry was; and if we'd a had him along 'stead of our kings he'd a fooled that town a heap worse than ourn done.I don't say that ourn is lambs, because they ain't, when you come right down to the cold facts; but they ain't nothing to THATold ram, anyway.All I say is, kings is kings, and you got to make allowances.
Take them all around, they're a mighty ornery lot.It's the way they're raised.""But dis one do SMELL so like de nation, Huck.""Well, they all do, Jim.We can't help the way a king smells; history don't tell no way.""Now de duke, he's a tolerble likely man in some ways.""Yes, a duke's different.But not very different.This one's a middling hard lot for a duke.When he's drunk there ain't no near-sighted man could tell him from a king.""Well, anyways, I doan' hanker for no mo' un um, Huck.Dese is all Ikin stan'."
"It's the way I feel, too, Jim.But we've got them on our hands, and we got to remember what they are, and make allowances.Sometimes I wish we could hear of a country that's out of kings."What was the use to tell Jim these warn't real kings and dukes? It wouldn't a done no good; and, besides, it was just as I said: you couldn't tell them from the real kind.
I went to sleep, and Jim didn't call me when it was my turn.He often done that.When I waked up just at daybreak he was sitting there with his head down betwixt his knees, moaning and mourning to himself.I didn't take notice nor let on.I knowed what it was about.He was thinking about his wife and his children, away up yonder, and he was low and homesick;because he hadn't ever been away from home before in his life; and I do believe he cared just as much for his people as white folks does for their'n.
It don't seem natural, but I reckon it's so.He was often moaning and mourning that way nights, when he judged I was asleep, and saying, "Po' little 'Lizabeth!
po' little Johnny! it's mighty hard; I spec' I ain't ever gwyne to see you no mo', no mo'!" He was a mighty good nigger, Jim was.
But this time I somehow got to talking to him about his wife and young ones; and by and by he says:
"What makes me feel so bad dis time 'uz bekase I hear sumpn over yonder on de bank like a whack, er a slam, while ago, en it mine me er de time I treat my little 'Lizabeth so ornery.She warn't on'y 'bout fo' year ole, en she tuck de sk'yarlet fever, en had a powful rough spell; but she got well, en one day she was a-stannin' aroun', en I says to her, I says:
"'Shet de do'.'
"She never done it; jis' stood dah, kiner smilin' up at me.It make me mad; en I says agin, mighty loud, I says:
"'Doan' you hear me? Shet de do'!'
"She jis stood de same way, kiner smilin' up.I was a-bilin'! I says:
"'I lay I MAKE you mine!'
"En wid dat I fetch' her a slap side de head dat sont her a-sprawlin'.
Den I went into de yuther room, en 'uz gone 'bout ten minutes; en when I come back dah was dat do' a-stannin' open YIT, en dat chile stannin'
mos' right in it, a-lookin' down and mournin', en de tears runnin' down.
My, but I WUZ mad! I was a-gwyne for de chile, but jis' den -- it was a do' dat open innerds -- jis' den, 'long come de wind en slam it to, behine de chile, ker-BLAM! -- en my lan', de chile never move'! My breff mos'
hop outer me; en I feel so -- so -- I doan' know HOW I feel.I crope out, all a-tremblin', en crope aroun' en open de do' easy en slow, en poke my head in behine de chile, sof' en still, en all uv a sudden I says POW!
jis' as loud as I could yell.SHE NEVER BUDGE! Oh, Huck, I bust out a-cryin'
en grab her up in my arms, en say, 'Oh, de po' little thing! De Lord God Amighty fogive po' ole Jim, kaze he never gwyne to fogive hisself as long's he live!' Oh, she was plumb deef en dumb, Huck, plumb deef en dumb -- en I'd ben atreat'n her so!"
