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HOW, ON LEAVING KING LOG, FOOLISH WISDOM RUNS A-MUCK ON KING.
STORK.
At the outer door of the Tower by which he had entered, the philosopher was accosted by Catesby,--a man who, in imitation of his young patron, exhibited the soft and oily manner which concealed intense ambition and innate ferocity.
"Worshipful my master," said he, bowing low, but with a half sneer on his lips, "the king and his Highness the Duke of Gloucester have heard much of your strange skill, and command me to lead you to their presence.

Follow, sir, and you, my men, convey this quaint contrivance to the king's apartments." With this, not waiting for any reply, Catesby strode on.

Hugh's face fell; he turned very pale, and, imagining himself unobserved, turned round to slink away.

But Catesby, who seemed to have eyes at the back of his head, called out, in a mild tone,-- "Good fellow, help to bear the mechanical--you, too, may be needed." "Cog's wounds!" muttered Hugh, "an' I had but known what it was to set my foot in a king's palace! Such walking may do for the silken shoon, but the hobnail always gets into a hobble." With that, affecting a cheerful mien, he helped to replace the model on the mule.
Meanwhile, Adam, elated, poor man! at the flattery of the royal mandate, persuaded that his fame had reached Edward's ears, and chafed at the little heed paid by the pious Henry to his great work, stalked on, his head in the air.