Bucket list in 1845 or WHAT?  Sorry, People of the USA, I tried to run for President of USA and I lost…in fact I could even get on the ballot…Please don’t blame me for trying as I got skin cancer, high blood pressure and old age. I guess it was my “bucket list” to run. Now my Bucket list is to go back to “roots in Ireland” before I go… Please don’t laugh but Fredrick Douglas saw the plight of the Irish in 1845-46; he also tried to Help!      In Douglas “own words” written 1845 he tells of the sadness and poor he saw:

I spent nearly six weeks in Dublin, and the scenes I there witnessed were such as to make me “blush, and hang my head to think myself a man.” I speak truly when I say, I dreaded to go out of the house. The streets were almost literally alive with beggars, displaying the greatest wretchedness—some of them mere stumps of men, without feet, without legs, without hands, without arms—and others still more horribly deformed, with crooked limbs, down upon their hands and knees, their feet lapped around each other, and laid upon their backs, pressing their way through the muddy streets and merciless crowd, casting sad looks to the right and left, in the hope of catching the eye of a passing stranger—the citizens generally having set their faces against giving to beggars. I have had more than a dozen around me at one time, men, women and children, all telling a tale of woe which would move any but a heart of iron. Women, barefooted and bareheaded, and only covered by rags which seemed to be held together by the very dirt and filth with which they were covered—many of these had infants in their arms, whose emaciated forms, sunken eyes and pallid cheeks, told too plainly that they had nursed till they had nursed in vain. In such a group you may hear all forms of appeal, entreaty, and expostulation. A half a dozen voices have broken upon my ear at once: “Will your honor please to give me a penny to buy some bread?” “May the Lord bless you, give the poor old woman a little sixpence.” “For the love of God, leave us a few pennies—we will divide them amongst us.” “Oh! my poor child, it must starve, for God’s sake give me a penny. More power to you! I know your honor will leave the poor creature something. Ah, do! ah, do! and I will pray for you as long as I live.” For a time I gave way to my feelings, but reason reminded me that such a course must only add another to the already long list of beggars, and I was often compelled to pass, as if I heeded not and felt not. I fear it had a hardening effect upon my heart, as I found it much easier to pass without giving to the last beggar, than the first.

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