The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 289, December 22, 1827

Among the Suburban Beauties of The Metropolis, and As an Attraction For Home-tourists, Bushy is Entitled to Special Notice, Independent of Its Celebrity As the Retreat of Royalty—it Being The Residence Of his Royal Highness the Duke of Clarence , an Accurate Portrait Of Whom Will Be Presented, to Our Readers With the Usual supplementary Number At The Close of the Present Volume Of The Mirror.
The park is a thoroughfare, and the circumstances by which this public claim was established are worthy of record, as a specimen of the justice with which the rights of the community are upheld in this country. The village Hampden , in the present case, was one Timothy Bennet, of whom there is a fine print, which the neighbours, who are fond of a walk in Bushy Park, must regard with veneration. It has under it this inscription:— Timothy Bennet; of Hampton Wick, in Middlesex, shoemaker, aged 75, 1752. This true Briton, (unwilling to leave the world worse than he found it,) by a vigorous application of the laws of his country in the cause of liberty, obtained a free passage through Bushy Park, which had many years been withheld from the public. Regeneration (or the renewal of souls) is, however, a shoemaker's forte .
The above engraving of Bushy is copied from an elegant coloured view, drawn by Ziegler, and published by Griffiths, of Wellington-street, Strand.
It was now abute the gloaming when my ain same Janet (heav'n sain her saul) was sitting sae bieldy in a bit neuk ayant the ingle, while the winsome weans gathering around their minnie were listing till some auld spae wife's tale o' ghaists and worriecows; when on a sudden some ane tirled at the door pin.
Here's your daddie, bairns, said the gudewife ganging till the door; but i' place o' their daddie, a tall chiel wrappit i' a big cloak, rushed like a fire flaught into the bield, and drappit doun on the sunkie ewest the ingle droghling and coghling.
What's your wull, friend? said Janet, glowering on him a' i' a gliff, the gudeman's awa.