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William Hudson
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This trial concerned with the manner in which William Hudson read the newspaper (or several) to other customers at the New London Coffee-house and the seditious comments he made on its content. For example, witness statement: John Leech: "Mr Hudson and Mr Pigot came into the London Coffee-house, between seven and eight o'clock, the 30th of September last, it was on a Monday evening, they had been in the house more than half an hour, and they had had three glasses of punch and began to be noisy, they called for several papers, in fact I believe all the papers, and as they called them they read different paragraphs from them and commented on the paragraphs as they went on..."
Century: 1700-1799 Reader/Listener/Group: William Hudson Print: Newspaper
Sir Walter Scott : Ivanhoe
'Scott was the first great writer to draw me under his spell - the first to open for me the golden gates of poetry and romance. I can well remember the time when, a mere child, I would spend my half-holidays over "Ivanhoe" and "the Lay of the Last Minstrel", seated in rapt silence on a hassock in my father's library, in our old house at Bristol. I can well remember, too, how I would carry fragments of these enthralling stories to my fellows at school, resolved, with all the enthusiasm of boyhood, to make them willing or unwilling partakers of my pleasure. The men and women of whom I read and told were real figures to us then; and in the organization of our little school we lived out a kind of chivalrous life, even emulating, to the no small alarm of our elders, the scenes on sherwood forest, and the achievements at ashby-de-la-Zouche.'
Century: 1850-1899 Reader/Listener/Group: William Henry Hudson Print: Book
Sir Walter Scott : The Lay of the Last Minstrel
'Scott was the first great writer to draw me under his spell - the first to open for me the golden gates of poetry and romance. I can well remember the time when, a mere child, I would spend my half-holidays over "Ivanhoe" and "the Lay of the Last Minstrel", seated in rapt silence on a hassock in my father's library, in our old house at Bristol. I can well remember, too, how I would carry fragments of these enthralling stories to my fellows at school, resolved, with all the enthusiasm of boyhood, to make them willing or unwilling partakers of my pleasure. The men and women of whom I read and told were real figures to us then; and in the organization of our little school we lived out a kind of chivalrous life, even emulating, to the no small alarm of our elders, the scenes on sherwood forest, and the achievements at ashby-de-la-Zouche.'
