They Wanted To Open Accounts

A man hastily entered a La Salle street bank recently and, approaching a teller's window, carelessly threw down a check with the remark, "I would like to deposit that; please credit the amotmt to my account." The teller glanced at the check and winked very hard and vigorously to convince himself that his eyes were still all right. The bit of paper called f or $463,000, and bore the signature of one of the most powerf ui syndicates in this country. It was accepted without a word, and the depositor left the bank within one minute of the time he entered it. A few weeks ago a middle aged woman, carr3ring a small sachel, entered a down town bank and said to a teller that she would like to make a deposit. "We can't open an account with you," said the young man behind the window, "unless you make some arrangement with the cashier personally. 1 can give you a certifícate of deposjt, however." "Very well," quietly remarked the visitor, "I doirt want to be bothered to carry this about town, and the certifícate will do very well until I can find some institution that will open an account with me." The expectant young man opened his certifícate blank book and dipped his pen in the inkwell before him. The sachel was opened and from it carne - not a black purse or a few dollars tied into a knot in a handkerchief corner - but United States bonds, the face value of which aggregated more than $348,000. The certifícate was not filled out. An account was