Aaron Kilbourne (1773)

Born 30 Jan 1773 in Litchfield, Colony of Connecticut

Ancestors

Died [date unknown] in Westminster, London, Ontario, Canada

Problems/Questions Profile manager: Fairch Fairchild [send private message]

Biography

Aaron was born in 1773. He is the son of Joseph Kilbourn and Elizabeth Marsh.

Autobiography of Aaron Kilbourne

Aaron Kilbourne provided the following account of his life, which was published in 1856 in The history and antiquities of the name and family of Kilbourn (in its varied orthography):

I was born of respectable parents, in Litchfield, State of Connecticut, U.S.A., in the year of our Lord 1773. When about four years of age, my grandfather, Jonathan Kilbourn, died; and during the following year, I lost my most excellent mother. Little did I then know the extent of my bereavement, though I often afterwards mourned in secret over my loss.

In 1786, when I was about thirteen years old, my father removed with a portion of his family, to the Susquehannah river, in the State of Pennsylvania, and I bade a final farewell to the associates of my childhood, for I have never had the pleasure of meeting one of them since.

During the following autumn, (1786,) my father, brother Timothy and myself, went up the Susquehannah to Meshopping Creek, about forty miles from Wilksbarre, and commenced the erection of a grist and sawmill. While we were there, the " great pumpkin flood," so called, came and swept off nearly all the pumpkins and stacks of hay, corn and oats in the valley, broke our mill-dam, and carried off some houses that had been recently erected near us. When winter came on our mills were not finished, the snow fell very deep, and there were no roads in all our region except Indian trails. My brother, two young Dudleys, and myself, were left at the mills alone, where we suffered severely from hunger and cold for nearly two montlis. One of the Dudleys got the hide of a horse that had died, with which to make a pair of shoe-packs. Having taken off the hair with ley, he made his pack, and I collected the trimmings, roasted and ate them. My brother finally made a slug out of a bit of lead, and fortunately killed a deer — upon which we "fared sumptuously," though we were not "clothed in fine linen." In the month of January, I was sent with a boy, in a canoe to Wilksbarre. The weather was very cold, we were thinly clad and suffered much. When some ten or twelve miles from our place of destination, Ave found the river dammed up with ice, and our canoe frozen fast in the middle. In this condition we remained nearly an entire night ; a little before day we found that the anchor ice was frozen to the cakes so hard that in a short time we were able to go ashore on the ice ; soon after which the river broke, and our boat was crushed to atoms by the floating cakes of ice.

In the summer of 1787, our family removed to Meshopping Creek. My brother and myself were sent to a farm owned by my father, three or four miles further up the river, and on the opposite side, to clear a piece of land and build a house upon it. We accomplished our object, but as our canoe had drifted off, we were without food for two or three days, and could get nothing to eat. At length I succeeded in catching a large chub from the river, and on returning to the house with my prize, I was delighted to find that my brother had caught a turtle which afforded us sixty eggs. We had a delicious repast, though without salt or bread.

Time soon brought about a war between the Connecticut settlers and the Pennsylvania government. My father had purchased and paid for between two and three thousand acres of land in the valley, and of course he and his family felt a deep interest in maintaining the claim of Connecticut, and in establishing their personal right to the soil. As the authorities of Pennsylvania refused to recognize the right of Connecticut to dispose of the land on the Susquehannah, they naturally enough regarded the settlers as intruders. The emigrants from Connecticut were for a while united as one man ; but many of them were finally bought over by the Pennsylvania Commissioners, who, by Avay of compromise, were authorized to confirm to each settler a certain number of acres.

One of these Commissioners was Colonel Pickering, who, soon after his arrival, made himself very obnoxious to the people by causing the arrest and imprisonment of our leader, Colonel Franklin, on a charge of treason. My brother and eight or ten other young men, resolved upon retaliatory measures; accordingly they proceeded to Wilksbarre, surrounded the dwelling of Colonel Pickering, took him prisoner, and carried him to a place called "Black Walnut Bottom," where they confined him in the Avoods under a guard. At the same time they made it known to the other party that if they would liberate Franklin, Col. Pickering should be safely returned. About this time I joined the "M'ild Yankees," as the party were called ; and on the day following a skirmish took place between about thirty "Pennamites" and sixteen or eighteen "Yankees," myself among them. Several persons were wounded, one of whom wag Captain Ross, a Pennamite leader. Our party detained Col. Pickering eighteen days, and then released him on his giving us a written pledge that he would pardon us all. Notwithstanding this promise, we were all advertised as outlaws, and one hundred dollars were offered for the apprehension of any of us, dead or alive.

Having by this time determined to leave the country, and give up our property as lost, seven or eight of us proceeded up the west side of the Susquehannah, to Wyalusing, where we stayed all night. In the morning we were visited by a supposed friend, who said with apparent sincerity that it was too bad for us to remain in the woods, assuring us that there would be no danger in traveling by the road, and offering to send us across the river in his canoe. We concluded to follow his advice, and the canoe, in charge of two men and a boy, was soon ready to convey us over to the other side. Three or four of us got in, but before we had proceeded more than half way across, the boy exclaimed with an oath — 'I will tell ! I will tell ! The Pennamites are hid in those bushes, and the moment you land they will kill you !' One of our men, named Dudley, immediately presented his rifle to the head of the steersman, threatening him with instant death if he did not put back to an island which we had just passed. Seeing no other way of escape, the man obeyed the injunction. On reaching the island, one of the boatmen effected his escape. Moved by the oaths and threats of Dudley, the other boatman, aided by the boy, soon rowed us back to the place from which we started. After providing for the safety of the boy who had saved us, we traveled for two days up the river and then crossed to the other side and proceeded to Wysock Creek, where we obtained provisions. Here three of our number, who had crossed the stream in advance of the others, were fired upon by a party of about thirty Pennamites, Avholay concealed in a log house near them. They killed Dudley, one of our bravest men. In consequence of the heavy rain which was falling, we could not return the fire, and were obliged to retreat. It would seem that they had endeavored to surround us, for we soon discovered two men concealed in brush heaps. We were very near them before they were observed, so much so that my brother rushed forward and seizing the musket of one of them, wrenched it from his hands. As he did not care to kill the fellow, he told him to run for his life, which he did. The two men who were in advance of us, came up. One of them had been shorn of his cue by a ball, and the other found a bullet safely lodged in a jonnycake that was in his pack. Pausing for a few moments for the purpose of counseling with each other, and to drop a tear for the fate of poor Dudley, we again took to the woods. Without hats, coats, or blankets, we traveled over laurel hills, and through hemlock swamps, east branch of the Susquehannah, all the while suffering for the want of suitable food. We could kill nothing through fear of attracting our enemies by the noise we might make. I caught but one small trout during the wanderings of four or five days, and was often compelled to eat basswood leaves and birch bark to satisfy the cravings of hunger. At length we reached a place called Wapassenee, containing two or three families. They were poor but hospitable. The men killed venison for us, while the women pounded corn and made us jonnycakes. After resting and refreshing ourselves for a few days, we proceeded on to Owego, N. Y., where we procured provisions, and started for the 'Genesee country.' Unfortunately, we took the wrong Indian trail, and were compelled to return to Owego, having completely exhausted our supply of food. The party now left me at Owego, and proceeded on their journey. A day or two after their departure, John Hallenbeck arrived with a company of horsemen in search of the wild Yankees, They proceeded eight or ten miles up the river, and took our Captain prisoner, tied him on a horse, and came back with him to the place where I was. One of our men snapped a rifle at Hallenbeck, and another shot down his horse; upon which he and his men made their escape, and our Captain was set at liberty. Hallenbecks party ran away in such hot haste that I was not molested by any of them, although a proclamation was then being circulated, offering a reward for my arrest — a fact of which I was ignorant. I returned to my father's house at 'Black Walnut Bottom,' near Meshopping, where I was taken prisoner and lodged in Wilksbarre jail. After remaining there two or three weeks, I was brought before the Court, tried by the Pennsylvania law, and sentenced to three months imprisonment and to pay the costs of court. After remaining in prison under this sentence for about six weeks, one of my former associates procured a key which he ascertained would fit my cell, and gave it to me. With it I effected ray escape, accompanied by my father, who was confined Avith me. We crossed the river, took a by-path and traveled all night without hat or shoes. Owing to my long confinement, I could proceed but slowly the next day. About ten o'clock in tlie morning, as we were passing a house, sick and weary, an old woman, who seemed to know who and what we were, came out with a capacious jonnycake, which had been baked on a board, and putting her hand on my head, gave it to me with her blessing, saying that it was all she had. The next day we arrived safely at my father's house.

In the fall, Capt. John Swift came with a large boat, took my father and his family on board, and went up to Newtown Point. In January, 1789, I went witli Captain Swift to Catharinetown, situated at the head of Seneca Lake. On our way. we had to draw our boat three miles over the ice  ; and after reaching the water our mast became displaced, the boat nearly filled with water, and we were compelled to go ashore, build a fire and dry our clothes. On reaching Geneva, I found my brother Timothy at work upon a saw-mill. He gave me a suit of clothes; and I remained with him through the winter. He set in operation the first mills that were ever erected in that part of the country.

Early in the summer, my father removed his family to Geneva, and with my assistance commenced erecting mills in a Quaker settlement in the vicinity. Here he purchased a farm, and I was sent down the Mohawk for seed wheat. Accompanied by a man in a boat, Ave crossed several lakes, carrying our boat where we could not navigate. On the way I was taken sick with a fever and ague, and was left behind, without money or friends. The man with whom I was left, in order to get rid of me, put me on board a boat bound for Geneva. On my Avay I was delirious, and parched with thirst, and could only obtain water by lying over the edge of the boat and dipping it up with a scoop shovel.

In the winter, Major Jenkins and his assistants came up from the Susquehannah to make surveys near us. The Indians fell upon his tent at night, killed one of his men and Avounded another. The surveyors, in their defence, knocked down one of the Indians with an axe, and broke the shoulder of another with a compass-staff. The remainder of the assailants were taken, given up to the whites, and sent under a guard to a jail in Pennsylvania — which, however, they never reached, the guard having killed them on the AA'ay. I Avas sent to bring in the body of the murdered surveyor ; and Avas also selected Avith others to pilot Major Jenkins and the survivors of his party to a place of safety, which duty Ave faithfully performed.

In the summer of 1792, Timothy and myself built two mills — one at the head of Canandaigua Lake, and the other on Honeyoye Creek ; and also assisted our father in erecting three mills near Canandaigua, one of which was upon his own land. My father Avas by this tim.e in easy circumstances ; but he Avas taken sick, and as Ave were nearly out of meal and flour, it was determined that I should go about two day's journey with a brother-in-law for a fresh supply. With a few buckwheat cakes, a pound of bear meat, and nine-pence in our treasury, Ave started on our trip. At Geneva river, about forty miles from home, Ave procured the grain, hired a boat, took it to the head of Canandaigua Lake to be ground, and returned home after a Aveek's absence, and a journey of over two hundred miles. My father erected a Pearl-Ash Factory, and after a few years became involved, and lost his farm. In 1794, he removed to Niagara Falls, and erected mills on the Canada side. While there, he discovered tlie 'Burning Spring,' Avhich to this day is visited as a curiosity.

While at work with my father near Niagara, I was drafted by the British to help the Indians fight General Wayne and his army. I was appointed a Sergeant, and marched with my company toward Detroit; but hearing that the fighting was all over, I deserted and went back to the Falls. I was pursued and nearly overtaken, but escaped by good running. On my way to Black Rock, soon after, I encountered a British soldier with side arms, who attempted to take me ; but he was frightened from his purpose by a sight of my musket.

In 1795, at the age of twenty-two years, I was married in Phelps, Ontario Co., N. Y., to Miss Hannah, daughter of Benjamin WoodhuH, from Long Island and soon after, with my father, brother, and other members of the family, settled in Delaware, Middlesex County, Canada West, Timothy and myself having sold our property in the United States for £500. The County of Middlesex at that time was a vast wilderness, inhabited by Indians, who lived by fishing and the chase. The savages were very friendly except when under the influence of ardent spirits, which they often purchased of traders. Our new home was near the banks of the Thames, about one hundred and forty miles west of Niagara Falls. There was not a blacksmith's shop or a mill within sixty miles of us, and the only road was an Indian war-path. There was but one white family in Delaware township, when we arrived. We now experienced the privations, hardships and adventures of pioneer life in a greater degree than we had ever done before. Our clothes soon consisted of a blanket-coat with a belt about the waist, and a mink skin suspended from it, in which we carried a flint, steel, pipe and tobacco ; our pantaloons were made of deer skin, our shirts of calico purchased of the Indian traders. Our food consisted of bear, venison, raccoon and fish. Our bread was made of corn pounded in a hole cut out in the top of a stump, and sifted through a common sieve. Of the fine we made bread, of the coarse, soup. We did not forget the Sabbath; but usually spent the day in hunting, fishing, drinking watered rum, and playing or fighting with the Indians. The whites and savages sometimes killed each other in their drunken frolics; but when sober, both parties were ready to make peace. Four or five times a year, the Indians were accustomed to assemble near us, sometimes to the number of six hundred, to celebrate certain feast days — each bringing with him his share of provisions. I was often present at their festivals and weddings. One of the items in their bill of fare was usually a boiled dog. The chief would ask a blessing, thanking the Great Spirit for feeding them, and calling upon Him to feed their children and their children's children. We also frequently attended their funerals. Their practice was to lay the corpse on the ground ; the mourners and other friends were seated in a row ; and one after another, their guns were fired off, for the purpose, as they said, of frightening away the evil spirits, while the good spirits took possession of their friend, and conducted him to their spiritual hunting-grounds. If the deceased was a warrior, they signified the number slain by him, by the blows of a hatchet upon a standing pole. We often joined in these rude ceremonies for the purpose of conciliating our red neighbors, and it had the desired effect. I could use the bow, the hatchet, and tlie spear, with the best of them; and my brother was designated among them as 'the great white hunter.' '

I have seen more than one hundred deer in a drove, and a flock of wild turkeys ten or a dozen rods wide, and so long that neither end was visible. The pike were so numerous in the streams that we could catch fourteen hundred in a single night, each weighing from three to five pounds. Wolves, too, were abundant. I once met nine gray ones together, and felt constrained to give them a wide path, and to let them pass on unmolested.

Our family purchased 3500 acres of land, for $2 50 per acre, to be paid in five or six annual installments — of which sum myself and brother paid one thousand dollars down. We built two saw mills and a grist mill, and paid the installments as they became due, for three successive years, and of the last installments I paid my full share. But our dam had been carried off, and other losses pressed heavily upon us, so that a portion of the last payment was not met when due  ; and as we were all bound together, we all failed together.

My father then removed to the vicinity of Detroit, bought a squatter's privilege upon Rouge River remained there two or three years, and then returned to Delaware, where he died in 1817, aged 72. A few years subsequent, a deed was made out for him at Washington, for 640 acres of land in Michigan; but the Indians robbed the mail and destroyed the deed. This land is occupied, but we have never been able to gain possession of it.

When the war of 1812 broke out, ours was still a frontier settlement. The country was overrun with Indians, accoutred, plucked and painted like devils, as they were — some carrying poles decked with human scalps, which they would leave at our doors, while they came in to take our hard-earned food or our scalps, as best suited their purpose for the time being. Some persons in our vicinity joined the Americans, and came back and robbed us; and our own Indians murdered some of our neighbors, that they might obtain the reward for scalps. The Yankees drove off our horses, the Indians killed our sheep, and the soldiers robbed our hen-roosts. I joined the Canadian forces as a volunteer, and marched to Detroit. At the battle of the River Raisin, one of our British Indians dragged an American soldier who had one leg broken, out of the battle, concealed him in some bushes, until the fight was over, and then placed him on a hand sled and drew him to the American camp, a distance of over thirty miles. You may be sure that by this act the savage was repaying some act of kindness. Other instances of a similar kind, which came under my own observation, I might relate; but the above will suffice as an illustration of a remarkable trait of the aborigines. On my way home, I found a poor American soldier who was wounded at the Raisin battle. One of the Indians attempted to kill him, upon which I stepped between them, and saved his life. From this time he kept close by me while I remained in his company. We carried him ten or twelve miles in our sleigh; and when he could go no farther, we provided him with money and left him in the care of persons who would take the best care of him. We afterwards learned of his death.

Soon after we reached home, a regiment passed us on their way to storm Sandusky Fort. They were defeated. Very few came back, and they were fearfully mangled. They were driven right through Delaware. I dragged one poor fellow, with a broken leg, on a sled, five or six miles. The advance of General Harrison caused our army to retreat up the Thames to Moraviantown, where Avas fought the battle of the Thames, in which Tecumseh was killed. In the defeat of our forces, and the subsequent pursuit, the fugitive army again passed through Delaware. The action between Colonel Croghan and a portion of our army, was but eighteen miles from my home.

During the following summer, there was much fighting in our town and vicinity. In the expedition of General McArthur, our mills and the office of my father were burnt. As my father was Town Clerk, the records of the town were destroyed with his office.

Peace came at last, but it found us in a condition far from enviable. The loss of time, the almost total neglect of our farms, the ruinous prices which we were compelled to pay for the necessaries of life, the torch of the incendiary, the plunderings of the soldiery and the pillaging of traitorous neighbors, had almost ruined us. In my stock, I was reduced to a single yoke of oxen, one of which I killed for food, and the other I sold to buy flour. For the latter, I sent to Detroit, 120 miles distant — two barrels costing me forty dollars. Before its arrival, we were without bread nine days. I had eight small children to provide for, which was no easy task at such a time. As I have before stated, however, we had an abundance offish and game, so that we were never destitute of wholesome food.

At the close of the war, I drew from government three hundred acres of land in the town of Westminster, upon which I now reside — having removed from Delaware to this place in 1815. My farm is now worth $2,500, and we are surrounded by many blessings and privileges. I had not been long in my new home, when the Methodists came into our neighborhood, and created a great excitement. I determined to drive them from the place, and united with others of a kindred spirit for that purpose. But the more they were persecuted, the stronger they grew; and some of my party told such barefaced falsehoods concerning them, that I left their company, and finally went to 'quarterly meeting.'

Through the instrumentality of these preachers, I was led to consider the error of my former ways, and to seek forgiveness where alone it can be found. I have a hope, by the help of God, to walk worthily, and trust to be found in the narrow road when I am called to a world of less care than this.

Sources

• Payne Kenyon Kilbourn, The history and antiquities of the name and family of Kilbourn (in its varied orthography) (New Haven: Ekeziel Hayes, 1856) (online: Aaron - number 152; note Timothy at number 150).
• Find a Grave, database and images (https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/52854391/aaron-kilbourn: accessed 08 January 2024), memorial page for Aaron Kilbourn (30 Jan 1773–unknown), Find A Grave: Memorial #52854391, citing Woodhull Cemetery, London, Middlesex County, Ontario, Canada; Maintained by Ralph Edwards (contributor 46940414).
• National Archives of Canada, Upper Canada: War of 1812 Loss Claims RG 19 E5(a) Volume 3757, File 2, Petition 1796, Petition of Aaron Kilbourn (online at: https://www.collectionscanada.gc.ca/microform-digitization/006003-119.02-e.php?q2=33&q3=2811&sqn=945&tt=1102&PHPSESSID=rgi7t06a60or2jdheocn6v65f4).
• Connecticut, Vital Records, Prior to 1850," database, FamilySearch (https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:QPS2-J71L : 15 April 2022), Joseph in entry for Aaron Kilborn, ; citing Birth, Litchfield, Connecticut, United States, Compiled by Lucius A. and Lucius B. Barbour, housed at State Library, Hartford, Connecticut; FHL microfilm 008272237.