Thus, my boy, when I note how some of our excellent Democratic daily journals attempt to prove, with great sadness of manner and profound sincerity of reluctant reasoning, that all the celebrated advances, conquests, and flankings of our remarkable national armies are really so many heart-breaking defeats in deep disguise; and that the well-known Southern Confederacy is actually quite intoxicated with its continued remorseless successes over us; when I note this, my boy, I am moved to pleasant tears over that inherent and ineradicable goodness of human nature, which instinctively inspires the nobler of our species to first delude their fellow-beings to despondency with the most innocent of falsehoods, only that their consummate bliss may be the greater when the glorious truth can no longer be thus fondly concealed. Join with me, my boy, in a noble tribute of affection to the humble but tender Editors of these excellent Democratic daily journals, who would lovingly make us, children of the nation, believe, that the Turkey of Victory is not to be had at any price, though none of us need look very far to see the plump legs of that very same turkey sticking out of the family-basket. Thanks to thee, thou dear old Mrs. McShane, with thy perpetual atmosphere of roast-beef gravy, and eternal rims of crusted flour about thy finger-nails--thanks be to thee for that humanizing remembrance of thy loving fraud, which thus enables me to rescue our excellent Democratic daily journals from the unseemly imputations of degenerate Black Republicans.