Cost of Glory.—We have received from a Naval Officer a tart assault upon Upham’s figures in relation to the expenses of the Army and Navy of the United States, which we shall publish and reply to. He makes the cost “_about_ twenty-five per cent. of the whole revenue.” We shall see! The article is by some very _young_ Middy, who thinks that “navy blue” means getting tipsy on shore, and that _figures_ are symbolical _only_ of important gentlemen, buttoned up to the throat, who walk the Quarter-Deck of Uncle Sam’s 74’s. * * * * * Reader—“Graham” makes his best bow to you in this number, and stands, cap in hand, waiting a friendly return to his salutation. He has prepared himself with some care for this call, and if you do not like his rig, don’t turn up your nose disdainfully, but suggest any proper alteration in his costume, and when he comes again you may like him better. The critics! Well! who cares for the critics? Not Graham! He is a critic himself, and can carve you a poet to a nicety—slicing off his wings with one sweep of his steel. But Graham is tender to poets—for they are a good-hearted race, albeit a little irritable—apt to be dealt unjustly with, too, considering that each one is imbued with more than a Shaksperian genius, and people wont believe it. It is enough to make anybody mad—and a mad poet is of all enraged animals the most vehemently disposed to slaughter somebody. So, having disposed in brief of critics and poets, and of lawyers and briefs in the body of the work, we feel heavenly-minded toward the rest of creation—and in this mood we turn to “_the gentlemen of the press_.” If our exchanges believe _all_ that is told them by some of the Magazine publishers, they will soon begin to fancy that “the moon _is_ a green cheese,” and will wake up some fine night finding themselves cutting slices for an imaginary breakfast. One chap has the audacity to set himself up as the _sole_ patron of American arts and letters, and has spent _unheard_ of amounts on artists and writers. We fear to inquire into this business _too_ closely, lest it should turn out like the charity of the lady who was “collecting for a poor woman.” It _was_ charity—for it “began at home,” and _ended there_!