In Boston last week a spinster poured out a bag of walnuts on a bank counter. A teller smashed them open, found in each pair of neatly glued shells a $5 gold-piece. In Waukesha, Wis., an elderly woman passed a handful of gold-pieces to a bank teller. "They're good," she said. "That's just a little mildew on them. I kept them in a bottle hanging by a string in my well." In Manhattan all one evening the dark cavern of Maiden Lane echoed with unaccustomed footsteps as one after another, clerks, stenographers, women...

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