2-084 (Raw)

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Another incident which I know you will see the propriety of making a subject of thanksgiving occurred on Friday the 15th September 1833 Molloy has lately had a mud wall and fire place built adjoining the House - On the coming of that day, Kitty - her husband, (Ludlow) Tom (a most interesting servant boy) on going out for the Kettle said "The wall is coming down." They said "Oh, no it's the noise of the rain on it." Kitty caught up her crutches. Tom replied, "I tell you it is." Ludlow, who was sitting behind his wife on the hencoop had only time to thrust his wife into an adjoining tent down a step - when down came all the chimney and wall and broke into the side of this tent which comprised of Bulrushes and [NN] (you must remember our primitive state) Kitty now seized her crutches and most providentially when Tom spoke the second time and she was first down the step (owing to Ludlow's push and expression, "Like enough it is, Get out of the way, old woman") when the clay fell just at her heels and with its force - although it did not touch her - she fell against a box from the concussion. But for this miraculous interposition the poor lame creature must have been crushed to death. Tom exclaimed, "Thank God I have saved your life Kitty" but judge of my situation and inexpressible gratitude to the Almighty when just as we heard the noise of it falling - I was [NN] Sabina to go into Kitty at the new fireplace and she said, "No, tay (stay) with 'Mama'." I was on the point of telling Tom to take her out on his going for the Kettle - but was withheld by mercy from the Lord who had compassion recall the threatenings sent out against us She every evening sits on Kitty's knee about that time.
I cannot express my feelings to you . . . for had the child been on Kitty's knee - and she not able to walk without her crutches, they must inevitably have perished. I forgot to name that Ludlow had leapt into the corner whilst the ponderous mass was falling. It was the work of two days to recover the clay matted together as it was with stones and rushes (for want of straw) and had not the Almighty spared them - judge of the care and time required to extract their bodies. Every time I embrace Sabina I feel how different it might have been - that instead of a dear little child blooming with health, she might have been a mutilated, pallid corpse. Oh dearest Helen and Mr Story - I tremble now and wonder - Do return thanks and praises although inadequate I feel they are.
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