While the Convention which nominated General Taylor was in session at Philadelphia, a somewhat noted local politician from Pickaway county, Ohio, was in the city mingling in the muss. As the Convention adjourned over Sunday, he concluded to go to church. "I mounted my best regalia," he says, "and looked fine; stopped at the door, and asked the sexton for a seat; was shown a very good one, entirely unoccupied, in the back part of which I seated myself. In a very short time a decent-looking man, plainly dressed, entered and took the front of the pew. I held my head reverently, and looked pious. He glanced at me several times, then took out a white handkerchief; looked at me again, then took out a card, drew his pencil, wrote 'This is my pew, sir,' and tossed the card to me. I picked it up, and immediately wrote on it, 'It is a very good one; what rent do you pay?' and tossed it back." MAKING A MAN'S COFFIN BEFORE HIS DEATH.--18. An amusing thing occurred in the 24th Ohio. A few days since, a soldier, passing to the lower part of the encampment, saw two others from his company making a rude coffin. He inquired who it was for. "John Bunce," said the others. "Why," replied he, "John is not dead yet. It is too bad to make a man's coffin when you don't know if he's going to die or not." "Don't you trouble yourself," replied the others; "Dr. Coe told us to make his coffin, _and I guess he knows what he give him_." DRAWING THE LONG BOW.--19. A fellow was kicked out of an editorial room the other day for impudently stating "that he had seen in Germany a fiddle so large that it required two horses to draw the bow across the strings, which would continue to sound six weeks!" A QUEER CUP OF COFFEE.--20. I soon had an opportunity to judge for myself, having accepted an officer's invitation to take coffee in his tent. Captain H. was very proud of his table. His cook was said to be the best in the camp, his only fault being a disposition to a careless mixture of ingredients. "There, sir," said the captain, handing me a brimming cup, "I'll warrant you'll find that equal to anything you ever drank in Paris." I tasted. The captain saw something was wrong. He tasted. His countenance assumed a stern and mortified expression. John was called and ordered to investigate the cause of the villanous taste of the coffee. The next moment he reappeared, holding the coffee-pot in his hand. "Och, be jabers, captain," said he, "it's meself that's mortified to death. I cooked the bowl of me ould pipe in your coffee this morning, and that's the innocent cause of the bad taste intirely!" THE TREASURE TROVE. BY B. O. B.--21. As Jonathan Dodge reel'd home one night, Tight as a brick in a prison wall, Beneath a gas-lamp's brilliant light His eye on a something bright did fall.