The Count of Paris: a Sketch, 322 The Lessons of Autumn, 329 The 'Empire State' of New-York, 335 The Season of Death, 356 The Crowning-Hour. By CHARLES JAMES CANNON, 377 The Mysteries of Paris, 378 The Attaché. By SAM SLICK, 382 Thoughts on Immortality, 395 The Rich-Poor Man: or, the Secret of Contentment, 401 The Doomed Ship. By ROBERT L. WADE, 403 The DEITY. By Miss MARY GARDINER, 412 The Influential Man: a Sketch of Tinnecum, 422 The Broken Vow. By JAS. T. FIELDS, Esq., 427 The Top of New-York, 437 The Birth-Day. By R. S. CHILTON, Esq., 439 The Exile's Song, 440 The Story of ABUL CASSIM'S Shoes. From the Turkish, 470 The Dial, for the October Quarter, 486 Thoughts at Trenton-Falls. By R. S. CHILTON, Esq., 535 The Midnight Dream. By Mrs. R. S. NICHOLS, 536 The Venus of Ille. From the French, 537 The Old Man. A Ballad, 559 The Meeting at Sea. By A. C. AINSWORTH, 568 W. WINES, on the Civil Government of the Hebrews, 168 WASHINGTON, a National Poem, 192 Widows, 576 THE KNICKERBOCKER. VOL. XXII. JULY, 1843. No. 1. SKETCHES OF SOUTH-CAROLINA. NUMBER FIVE. IT was as beautiful an evening as a lover could ask, the second day of April, 1842, that I bade my friend Dana good-bye, and started in my sulky for a tour over the land of Nullification. I left Charleston in the evening, that the wearisome task of crossing the river might be over, and the earlier start upon my journey be made the following morning. Tarrying at the house of a fine old planter during the night, who amused me until nearly cock-crowing with his long stories of revolutionary days, I arose, after a very slight refreshment from sleep, and was on my way toward Georgetown an hour before sunrise. It was a toilsome way enough, the road running parallel with the sea-shore the whole distance of sixty miles, just far enough inland never to catch a glimpse of the water, and leading you over a dreary pine barren, where neither house, cultivated field, nor flowing streamlet occurred to divert your attention for the whole day. It was pleasant enough at first to feel one's self alone in those boundless forests of pine; and for an hour or two of the early morning I was sufficiently amused by the novel sight of some young alligator splashing into the water from the road-side, as the noise of my wheels awoke him from his siesta, or of a huge moccasin darting away beneath the dense reeds and lily-pads of the swamp, or of the ever-varying, myriad-toned music of the mocking birds who filled the air with their melody. But by degrees, as the sun began to rise above the trees, and the heavens to assume that brazen face which characterizes a southern sky, the never-changing scenery about me grew dull and wearisome, and I found myself looking forward in the hope of finding some place by the roadside where my horse might slake his thirst. No such place, however, appeared; on