_Nov. 22nd._--Embarked for Charleston, South Carolina, on board the William Gibbons, steamer. We had a series of hard blows until the evening of the 24th, when, getting to the southward of Cape Hatteras, the weather gradually moderated, and, early in the morning of the 25th, we were landed in Charleston; but so excessive was the cold, that I conceived it possible the captain had made a mistake, and that we were at some Charleston, in Greenland, or Icy Cape. The weather either was, or appeared to be, much colder than in New York when we departed. CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA. Went to a hotel kept by a coloured family, named Jones, and was appointed to comfortable summer-quarters in an outbuilding, where I received an immediate call from Mr. R. R----d, a cousin of my friend, W. R----d, of New York; and with this gentleman I dined at an excellent boarding-house where there were three or four excellent Frenchmen resident. Here I spent a pleasant evening, despite the severe cold. _28th._--After two days of weather for the severity of which no people can be worse provided, we are relieved by as lovely a day as can well be imagined; the thermometer is at 77 degrees, the breeze bland, the atmosphere of singular purity. On this day I visited the theatre, a barn; the building originally erected for this purpose being changed into a school of anatomy: so cutting up is still the order of the day; only the practice is no longer confined to the poets, but extended to subjects generally. After arranging with my manager, I took a ride, making a rapid survey of the town and its immediate vicinity. Vegetation still appears in progress; the orange trees are flourishing, the grass looking green, and only the forest appears clad in the sober brown of winter. At this season Charleston is dull to a proverb; most of the planters, with their families, being in the country, and the rest preparing to follow; the city is, therefore, nearly abandoned to the cotton-shippers; and so it will remain until the month of February, when the race-meeting draws the whole State together; and, for a period of four or five weeks, few places, as I learn, can be more lively or more sociable. After this date, the country families once more return to their plantations, where they can remain with safety until about the second week in April: after which date the choice between country and city may be summed up in the words of Shakspeare, to "go and live, or stay and die;" since to stay is assuredly to die, after once the malaria is fairly in movement. Formerly, the winter campaign used to be prolonged until the middle of June; but of late years the time has been, from some cause or other, gradually abridged by common consent, until now the 15th of April is considered the last day of security.