“Riding up to a house one day, I met an old woman and three grown-up daughters at the door uttering frantic appeals for help. I inquired what was wrong, when the old woman pointed to a burning cotton gin, and exclaimed, ‘Put it out! You uns are burnin’ me child!’ I asked where the child was, and succeeded in learning that it was in the burning gin house. Away I went, with some men, to rescue the innocent, and at the door met a ten year old boy, who, badly singed, issued forth from the fiery furnace. Returning to the house, I inquired how the boy came there? Putting the pipe between her lips, to compose her nerves, the old lady at last ventured an explanation: ‘Well,’ said she, ‘we uns heard that you uns killed all the little boys, to keep them out from growing up to fight ye, and we hid ’em.’ Strange as this may seem, among the poor, ignorant dupes of Davis, it is a common belief that the Yankees slay all the male children. We found many infant Moseses and Jeffs hid away in cellars and corn-cribs, but none in bulrushes. An officer called upon a lady in Effingham County, whose plantation had been stripped of every thing, and found her in tears and her children crying for bread. He endeavored to soothe her, when she lifted up her beautiful eyes beseechingly, and implored, ‘Give me something for my starving children.’ Away the officer went to his mess and fed the children from his private larder. On the following morning he was quite chagrined to witness two oak boxes, one barrel of flour, four trunks, and other articles exhumed from the garden by the soldiers.”