In sailing up the Hudson River, about one hundred miles above New York, you will discover on the west side a rather broad estuary, named by the old Dutch settlers, the Katterskill Creek.

This creek flows through a cleft in the mountains, known in the quaint language of the Dutch as the Katterskill Clove.

This clove, nature's pass through the mountains, was well known, and used by the tribes of the Six Nations, and especially by the vindictive, and blood thirsty Mohawks, as an easy trail by which they would descend upon the peace-loving and thrifty Dutch settlers; kill all the men who had not fled for refuge to the strong stone houses which were specially built for defence; capture the women and children, and kill all the live stock.

On the peninsula between the river and the creek, the latter being wide and deep enough to float the magnificent steamers which ply between Albany and New York, stood the colonial mansion to which your attention is called.

This mansion, for it was a splendid structure for those days, and the term would not be a misnomer in these, was built in 1763 by a Madam Dies, a Dutch matron, who afterwards married an English army officer. This man was so infatuated with his Dutch "vrow," and her wealth, that he deserted the colors, and would hide from search parties in the place to be hereinafter described.

The house was built of the gray sand stone found in that region, and was two stories high, with a capacious cellar, and an immense garret. The walls were nearly three feet thick, set in cement, which became so hard that when the day of destruction came a few years ago, the workmen were unable to tear the walls apart, but had to blow them down with dynamite. One hundred and fifty years had that cement been setting, and it was as hard as the stone itself.

In the cellar was a well to provide water in case of siege by the Indians, and heat was obtained by huge fire places in each of the eight large rooms, the smoke from which was carried off by two giant chimneys, and on one of these chimneys hangs the tale which is the excuse for this article.

Madam Dies, true to her name, was gathered to her fathers, and her craven husband went to the place prepared for those who desert their colors.

Leaving no direct heirs, the house with its ten acres of grounds, and known from its elegance and size as "Dies Folly" passed into other hands, and finally, early in the nineteenth century, was purchased by Major Ephriam Beach, and remained in the family for nearly one hundred years, until destroyed by the exigencies of business.

The huge chimneys reared their massive proportions in the center of each side of the house, and Major Beach, wishing to rearrange the interior of his dwelling, tore down the one on the north side. As it was being taken down, brick by brick, they came to where it passed through the garret, and there the workmen discovered a secret recess capable of holding several people.

It was cunningly conceived with the entrance so arranged as to exactly resemble the brick composing the chimney, and an enemy might hunt for days and fail to discover the secret hiding place. It was evidently intended as a concealed refuge in case the house should be captured by the Indians, but so far as known was never used for that purpose, the village never being attacked after the house was built. Some dishes and a water jar which were found in the hidden chamber, served to prove that the husband of Madam Dies used it to conceal himself from the British soldiers when they were hunting him, but apart from that undignified proceeding it was never used.

The house was well known to be haunted, and there are many well authenticated ghost stories told in connection with it; but the spooks were a decent and well behaved lot, and never disturbed the writer, who spent many years within its substantial walls.

The daughter of the writer was the last of my children born therein, and she never saw even a fairy Godmother, although both of her grandmothers hovered around her cradle.

The writer, Edward Cunningham Beach, is a grandson of Major Ephriam Beach, herein mentioned and the baby daughter in aforesaid is Mrs. Barrett Cothran, of Atlanta, Georgia.—Council Safety Chapter, D.A.R.