“‘MONEY WITHOUT SECURITY!’—Doubtless these mocking words have struck many readers besides the advertiser. In his desperate situation he has often put to himself the question, Is there to be found in this cruel world a good Samaritan who would confer on a fellow-creature a boon so precious? Is there one who, blessed with means, can find delight in raising from the slough of despond a poor wretch stranded on the bank of the black river of despair? Is there one who will account it cheap by _lending_ ten pounds, for three months, at twenty-five per cent interest, to elevate to manly altitude a human creature who, for want of such a sum, is groaning in the dust? If so, let him send a Beam of Sunshine to G. S. R., No. 17 Model Lodging Houses, —.” One cannot but ask the question, is G. S. R. a madman, or simply an idiot, who can regard it as a “joke” to waste five shillings for the privilege of seeing so many lines of empty rubbish in print? Or, again, are there really any grounds of five shillingsworth for supposing that amongst the fifty thousand readers of a daily newspaper one may be met with silly or eccentric or whimsical enough to entertain G. S. R.’s proposition? It is hard to believe in such a possibility. Still, there _are_ strange people in the world; every day furnishes evidence of this fact. Not more than a month ago it came to light that an old lady residing at Clapham has for years past been in the habit of paying an organ-grinder thirty shillings a-week—a half-sovereign on the evening of every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday—to come and play for half-an-hour under her window. Supposing a rupture between the lady and her musician, and she had put an advertisement in the _Times_—“A lady, a resident in a quiet suburb, is desirous of engaging with an organ-grinder. Terms of service, three half-hours per week, 75_l._ a-year”—who would have regarded it but as a silly joke? Here is another begging advertisement of the simple and affecting type: “A WIDOW’S ONLY COMFORT.—The advertiser begs the kind assistance of the kind-hearted and benevolent to rescue her pianoforte from the hands of the broker. It is but a poor old affair (valued only at 12_l._), but it has been her only consolation and solace since the death of a darling only daughter, whose instrument it was, and it would break her heart to part with it. Its music and her prayers should combine to thank any one who was generous enough to restore it to her. Address — Colebrook-row.” One more instance, and we will have done with the advertising beggar: