Mr. J. B. Ashley, a native of Marysburgh, to whom much valuable information we possess is due, says: “My great grandfather, James Gerollamy, was but seventeen years of age when he joined General Clinton’s army in 1779, and remained in the service until the virtual close of the war in 1782, when he came from New York to Quebec, and thence to Bath, where he settled, on what was until lately known, as the “Hichcock Farm.”” He afterwards removed to the fifth town, and settled on lot No. 11, 1st concession, lake side. He received from government certain farming implements, the same as before mentioned. A part of them coming into the hands of my father, Augustus Ashley, of Marysburgh. The hatchet, I have often used when a young lad in my childish employments. It is now lost. The share and coulter belonging to the plough, remain among a collection of old iron in my father’s woodshed until the present day. James Gerollamy, married Ann Dulmage, the daughter of Thomas Dulmage, who came with him to Canada and settled near him at Bath, in the second town, and subsequently moved to lot No. “D,” at the head of South Bay, in the township of Marysburgh, where he died. The graves of himself and wife being still under a large maple tree, close to the site of his house.
James Gerollamy, and his two sons, James and John, served through the war of 1812, under General Provost, Brock and Drummond. The old man holding the rank of Orderly, and his son James that of Lieutenant. The latter received a grant of 1000 acres of land for services as a “spy,” he was one of the number who planned the successful attempts upon Oswego, Black Rock and Buffalo, and at the battle of Niagara, generally known as “Lundy’s Lane.” He fought in the company or regiment known as “Grenadiers,” which, in their manœuvering were compelled to run and wallow over a field of corn with mud ankle deep.
The whole family were remarkable for large size, being over six feet in height, of great strength, and healthy, with robust constitutions. The old gentleman was acknowledged the surest marksman in this section of the country, and his “fusil,” was his constant companion. He died about ten years ago, aged about ninety-five years, being in full possession of his faculties until the last. I can well remember seeing him sauntering through the garden, bent with his weight of years, and leaning on his staff.