The condition of the South after the rebel armies surrendered reminds me of the havoc wrought when a forest of great tall trees is swept down by a strong and mighty wind, and all the forest monarchs are flat on the ground. Their mighty roots are exposed to the gaze of every passer-by; an enormous quantity of earth is torn up by the terrible wrench that has taken place; and the great branches are broken and jumbled together with the great crash of the now prostrate and ruined forest. Such was the state of the South after Lee surrendered at Appomattox Court House, in Virginia. He had, indeed, no great army to surrender, and what little armies remained to the rebellion elsewhere were but of small account, and promptly laid down their arms at last. Whilst the South fought with a valor that was worthy of a better cause, and her slave-holders and followers actually laid down their lives in thousands and ten thousands for their darling "independence" and slavery, I am never able to think without regret of the dreadful sacrifice of human lives and treasure that we of the North were forced to make to restore the Union to its former state, and to secure the freedom of the last slave in all the land. Never since this world began did a defiant, haughty and valiant race of rebels so long and so successfully resist—I might almost say the wealth, the resources, and the physical strength of half the world. It was the "strong man armed," and in his own house, fighting there with all his might and main. And how did we knock down the house and kill him? Alas, alas! we had to sacrifice whole legions of our well-beloved, both white and black, that the Union and liberty might be where they are at the present day.