IRISHMAN’S LUCK

Otago Daily Times, Issue 21723, 15 August 1932, Page 9

IRISHMAN’S LUCK

FROM POVERTY TO PLENTY EX. SHELTER INMATE * A CONTRAST IN FORTUNES. Until a week or two ago there lived 'at the Church of England men’s shelter in Haining street (Wellington) an Irishman named Michael O’Grady. To-day Michael O’Grady is on his way back to Ireland, travelling first class in a crack liner. Thus has the proverbial luck of the Irish’ held good; Unhappily it is not always so. The ledger of the Wellington City Mission records the name of another Irishman from whom fortune withheld her smiles. Only his last wish was granted, and that wish was, pathetically small. The story of Michael O'Grady begins in County Cork, where he and his sister were born and spent their childhood. When 'they parted Michael set out for New Zealand and' his sister journeyed to New York.

Here there is a gap in the story that can he bridged only in imagination. Michael O'Grady was not given to discussing his past career, probably because it was an ordinary career of ups and downs, of adventures and disappointments such as fall to the lot of many men. It ended in defeat, and one day Michael O’Grady arrived at the men’s shelter down and out, and there he stayed for ’ a year. A LETTER FROM NEW YORK. ; One day last month there arrived in Wellington a letter addressed to Michael O’Grady. It contained a draft for £137 and a first class ticket for the liner Mariposa. ' The sister had learned of her brother’s plight. She wrote explaining , that £IOO was to be spent on an outfit, in keeping with a first class ticket,, and - travelling expenses to New York. The , balance of the draft would provide pocket money. A transatlantic ticket to County Cork awaited him in New York. - . Michael O’Grady celebrated with his friends at: the. shelter, the manager of which tactfully but firmly established himself as the lucky Irishman’s banker. New clothes were, bought and new suit- , cases packed. - t When the time of departure camcMichael O’Grady, who had come to the shelter in rags, left in a taxie Before he said good-bye.he paid what, ho owed, and more. Then, while the taxi waited, he knelt in the courtyard ; and asked a blessing for the mission and those in it. The taxi door closed on Michael ’ O’Grady and his journey to County Cork began. EARLY MORNING SUMMONS. The story of the other IrishmanPaddy was his name—begins at the end. At 2 o’clock one morning the manager of the Mission shelter, Mr J. Gibbons, received an urgent call to the Wellington Public Hospital. He hurried there and approached the bedside of a dying boy, , who beckoned to him and spoke in a whisper. ■ Paddy had a last request to make. He asked that his burial should notbe the burial of a pauper. Would the Mission, which had cared for him, arrange for his funeral? The promise was given—and fulfilled. An Australian by birth, Paddy had - lived in the shelter for si* months. He was the cheery “ hard ” case of the institution, always willing to help, always ready to smile. Why he died only doctors know. His former mates say that, belli ml his smile, he worried about his future, worried himself into despondency and illness. , Paddy was carried to his grave, by pall-bearers from the shelter. A Wellington t taxi company arranged fyee transport for the mourners, and the Hospital Board provided a plot - the Karori Cemetery.'Contribution* toward other funeral expenses are being made, by the men of the shelter, who are placing in a little collection box the pennies and threepenny pieces that occasionally come their way.