measures; and his deeply felt anxiety for the welfare of his country
sometimes gives an impressive dignity to his thoughts and style. The
dread of French domination seems to have haunted him like a nightmare.
But, in spite of the editor's satirical reputation, "_The Weekly
Inspector_" was too conscientious a paper, too sparingly spiced with the
red pepper of personal abuse, to succeed in those outrageous times. The
publication continued but for a single year, at the end of which we find
Mr. Fessenden's valedictory to his leaders. Its tone is despondent both
as to the prospects of the country and his own private fortunes. The
next token of his labors that has come under my notice is a small volume
of verse, published at Philadelphia in 1809, and alliteratively entitled
"Pills, Poetical, Political, and Philosophical; prescribed for the
Purpose of purging the Public of Piddling Philosophers, Penny
Poetasters, of Paltry Politicians, and Petty Partisans. By Peter
Pepper-Box, Poet and Physician." This satire had been written during
the embargo, but, not making its appearance till after the repeal of
that measure, met with less success than "Democracy Unveiled."

Everybody who has known Mr. Fessenden must have wondered how the kindest
hearted man in all the world could have likewise been the most noted
satirist of his day. For my part, I have tried in vain to form a
conception of my venerable and peaceful friend as a champion in the
stormy strife of party, flinging mud full in the faces of his foes, and
shouting forth the bitter laughter that rang from border to border of
the land; and I can hardly believe, though well assured of it, that his
antagonists should ever have meditated personal violence against the
gentlest of human creatures. I am sure, at least, that Nature never
meant him for a satirist. On careful examination of his works, I do not
find in any of them the ferocity of the true bloodhound of literature,--
such as Swift, or Churchill, or Cobbett,--which fastens upon the throat