Michael McGinley was a typical Irishman, possessed of the
               humor and wit characteristic of that race wherever found.  He was
               born in Ireland, March 25, 1833.  He was left there an orphan at
               eleven years of age, he took ship for America on the "Voige", the
               vessel was wrecked, but he was rescued by another vessel, and was
               landed in New York.  Several years were spent in the New England
               states; but later he migrated to Charleston, S.C., and spent some
               time there and at Augusta, Ga.  Later he came to Giles County,
               Va., and spent a short time in Pearisburg.  About this time the
               contract was let to build a public road up Wolf Creek, and he was
               chosen as one of the directors or overseers of the road.  While
               discharging those duties, he formed the acquaintance of Martha A.
               Lambert, whom he married November 10, 1859.  He was then about 26
               years old.  Soon after this he volunteered as a soldier, and went
               into the Confederate army.  No braver or better soldier ever
               shouldered arms at the call of his country, and mustered into the
               army than Mike McGinley.  He received some severe wounds in his
               body, and bore the scars of battle-honorable badge of a soldier
               to the day of his death.  At the close of the war, he returned to
               Wolf Creek, where he spent the remainder of his life on the farm
               where married.  He was and honest, industrious, hard working
               farmer, and commanded the confidence and respect of all who knew
               him.  He served his county for several years as a Road
               Commissioner.  He was also a brick and stone mason.  He will be
               long remembered, in monumental ways, for his skill in masonry.
               Religiously, in his early beliefs, he was a Catholic.  It was
               interesting to hear him tell how he renounced his allegiance to
               the Catholic church, and became a Methodist.  I will give it from
               his own lips, as he gave it to me, as well as it can now be
               recalled:  "My wife was a good Christian and was a Protestant-a
               Methodist.  Some children blessed our home, and my wife wanted
               them baptized; but I determined that no one but a prast (priest)
               should ever baptize one of my children.  Soon after this, I was
               reading in the New Testament, and I came across this sentence
               uttered by our blessed Saviour, "a house divided against itself
               cannot stand."  Here I am with my own house divided.  I said to
               Martha, "You can have Bro. Stoart (Rev. George Stuart) to baptize
               the children", which he did, and I became a Methodist."  It was
               also a pleasure to have him relate the story of his conversion.
               He said there was a protracted meeting - a real revival being
               held at the Narrows, in the old church, the building now used for
               school purposes.  He had been in attendance for perhaps a week or
               ten days.  On one occasion he had gone at night, his wife and
               some company had remained at home.  Poor Mike - he was under deep
               conviction.  He said no mortal ever had such a load to carry as
               did he.  On his way from church, after he had left the creek and
               started up the mountain side, at his farm gate, perhaps a mile
               from his home, he was in such trouble he thought he was surely
               going to die.  He turned aside, and at the base of the trunk of a
               large tree, he knelt and poured out his soul to God in prayer,
               and he said "no mortal ever got such a blessing as I did that
               night."  He went home shouting the praises and ecstasies of one
               consciously saved from sin.  His wife joined him in the praises
               of the Redeemer, and it was kept up most of the night.  In
               referring to that tree, he added, "Never while I live, shall that
               tree be disturbed."  It was his Bethel, his Ebenezer.  He was a
               useful, active, helpful member of the church so long as he was
               able to attend the services.  he was a member of the Methodist
               church aboat forty years.  He died in peace at his old home April
               23, 1906.  He expressed to a neighbor that he was ready to go;
               his last illness was of short duration.  His heart was fully set
               on a reunion with old comrades in arms at Pearisburg, but instead
               it has been a reunion of friends, long separated, in the heavenly
               home.  The funeral was conducted by the writer, and his body was
               laid to rest on a hill slope on Wolf Creek where the first rays
               from the east, each morning will brush away the mists of
               darkness, and where the grasses will grow; the flowers bloom, and
               the birds sing in springtime, and the storms of winter will howl
               around until the sleeping dead shall leave their dusty, and long
               inhabited beds of earth, and fly up to meet their Lord in the
               air.  This sketch of Mike McGinley would be incomplete without,
               at least one of his war experiences.

                    He had a rich find of war reminiscences, and never tired
               relating them.  He was a conspicuous figure-would draw and hold a
               crowd around him anywhere.  He said on one occasion he was out as
               a scout, during the army.  It was in the early morning.  He came
               suddenly on some Yankees, who were out on a like mission.  There
               were three of them, while Mike was by himself; but he saw them
               first; they supposed, as a matter of course, that there were
               other soldiers at this back.  He cried out, "Surrender the last
               one of you, or you will be shot dead.  Hands up! guns down!
               March!"  They came meeting our hero and he stepped in between
               them and their guns, which they had thrown down, and commanded
               them to march forward, telling them that the first one that
               showed any resistance, or offered to run that he would be
               instantly shot dead.  They were obedient to the behest's of the
               little, though braven Irishman.

                    He marched them into camp.
                    The matter was reported to the officials.  The news spread
               all over the army in a very short time.  The Colonel sent for his
               brave soldier, and was himself incredulous that one soldier
               should or could capture three soldiers, equally well armed.  The
               colonel
                                     (Continued on Page 7)




                              Michael McGinley Was Quite A Man
                                    (Continued from Page 3)

               said, "Mike, what sort of a yarn is that you are tellin camps
               that you captured, and brought in three yankee soldiers, as
               prisoners."  He answered, "Colonel, it is true."  "Well Mike,"
               said the officer, "How did you do it?"  He answered, with that
               ready wit characteristic of the Irish race, "Faith Colonel, and I
               surrounded them."  Nobody ever doubted him after that.

                              R. A. Owen

               [From the Virginian dated Thursday, May 10, 1906]