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.