"Be careful," runs the old saying, "or you may get what you want."

One who would agree is a man who lived in a squalid tenement on a side street in East Boston. He was a tailor and worked long hours each day to eke out a meager existence. He allowed himself but one luxury: a ticket each year to the Irish Sweepstakes. And each year he would pray fervently that this would be the winning ticket that would bring him his fortune.

For fourteen years his life continued in the same impoverished vein, until one day there came a loud knocking on his door. Two well-dressed gentlemen entered his shop and informed him that he had just won the sweepstakes. The grand prize was $1,000,000!

The little tailor could hardly believe his ears. He was rich! No longer would he have to slave away making pant cuffs, hemming dresses. Now he could really live!

He locked his shop and threw the key into the Charles River. He bought himself a wardrobe fit for a king, a new Rolls Royce, a suite of rooms at the Ritz, and soon was supporting a string of attractive women.

Night after night he partied until dawn, spending his money as if each day was his last. Of course the inevitable happened. One day the money was gone. Furthermore, he had nearly wrecked his health.

Disillusioned, ridden with fever and exhausted, he returned to his little shop and set up business once more. And from force of habit, once again each year set aside from his meager savings the price of a sweepstakes ticket.

Two years later there came a second knock at his door. The same two gentlemen stood there once again. "This is the most incredible thing in the history of the sweepstakes," exclaimed one. "You have won again!"

The little tailor staggered to his feet with a groan that could be heard for miles. "Oh, no," he protested, "do you mean I have to go through all that again?"