Add z3998:name-title semantic to some abbreviations

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@@ -18,9 +18,9 @@
 			<p>“Flesh and blood and temper,” he said, “he’s too fond of his own will, and that won’t suit me.” He spoke as if he was in a strong passion. He was a builder who had often been to the park on business.</p>
 			<p>“And do you think,” said master sternly, “that treatment like this will make him fond of your will?”</p>
 			<p>“He had no business to make that turn; his road was straight on!” said the man roughly.</p>
-			<p>“You have often driven that pony up to my place,” said master, “it only shows the creature’s memory and intelligence; how did he know that you were not going there again? But that has little to do with it. I must say, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Sawyer, that a more unmanly, brutal treatment of a little pony it was never my painful lot to witness, and by giving way to such passion you injure your own character as much, nay more, than you injure your horse; and remember, we shall all have to be judged according to our works, whether they be toward man or toward beast.”</p>
+			<p>“You have often driven that pony up to my place,” said master, “it only shows the creature’s memory and intelligence; how did he know that you were not going there again? But that has little to do with it. I must say, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Sawyer, that a more unmanly, brutal treatment of a little pony it was never my painful lot to witness, and by giving way to such passion you injure your own character as much, nay more, than you injure your horse; and remember, we shall all have to be judged according to our works, whether they be toward man or toward beast.”</p>
 			<p>Master rode me home slowly, and I could tell by his voice how the thing had grieved him. He was just as free to speak to gentlemen of his own rank as to those below him; for another day, when we were out, we met a Captain Langley, a friend of our master’s; he was driving a splendid pair of grays in a kind of break. After a little conversation the captain said:</p>
-			<p>“What do you think of my new team, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Douglas? You know, you are the judge of horses in these parts, and I should like your opinion.”</p>
+			<p>“What do you think of my new team, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Douglas? You know, you are the judge of horses in these parts, and I should like your opinion.”</p>
 			<p>The master backed me a little, so as to get a good view of them. “They are an uncommonly handsome pair,” he said, “and if they are as good as they look I am sure you need not wish for anything better; but I see you still hold that pet scheme of yours for worrying your horses and lessening their power.”</p>
 			<p>“What do you mean,” said the other, “the checkreins? Oh, ah! I know that’s a hobby of yours; well, the fact is, I like to see my horses hold their heads up.”</p>
 			<p>“So do I,” said master, “as well as any man, but I don’t like to see them held up; that takes all the shine out of it. Now, you are a military man, Langley, and no doubt like to see your regiment look well on parade, ‘heads up’, and all that; but you would not take much credit for your drill if all your men had their heads tied to a backboard! It might not be much harm on parade, except to worry and fatigue them; but how would it be in a bayonet charge against the enemy, when they want the free use of every muscle, and all their strength thrown forward? I would not give much for their chance of victory. And it is just the same with horses: you fret and worry their tempers, and decrease their power; you will not let them throw their weight against their work, and so they have to do too much with their joints and muscles, and of course it wears them up faster. You may depend upon it, horses were intended to have their heads free, as free as men’s are; and if we could act a little more according to common sense, and a good deal less according to fashion, we should find many things work easier; besides, you know as well as I that if a horse makes a false step, he has much less chance of recovering himself if his head and neck are fastened back. And now,” said the master, laughing, “I have given my hobby a good trot out, can’t you make up your mind to mount him, too, captain? Your example would go a long way.”</p>

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@@ -14,7 +14,7 @@
 			<p>One day when John and I had been out on some business of our master’s, and were returning gently on a long, straight road, at some distance we saw a boy trying to leap a pony over a gate; the pony would not take the leap, and the boy cut him with the whip, but he only turned off on one side. He whipped him again, but the pony turned off on the other side. Then the boy got off and gave him a hard thrashing, and knocked him about the head; then he got up again and tried to make him leap the gate, kicking him all the time shamefully, but still the pony refused. When we were nearly at the spot the pony put down his head and threw up his heels, and sent the boy neatly over into a broad quickset hedge, and with the rein dangling from his head he set off home at a full gallop. John laughed out quite loud. “Served him right,” he said.</p>
 			<p>“Oh, oh, oh!” cried the boy as he struggled about among the thorns, “I say, come and help me out.”</p>
 			<p>“Thank ye,” said John, “I think you are quite in the right place, and maybe a little scratching will teach you not to leap a pony over a gate that is too high for him,” and so with that John rode off. “It may be,” said he to himself, “that young fellow is a liar as well as a cruel one; we’ll just go home by Farmer Bushby’s, Beauty, and then if anybody wants to know you and I can tell ’em, ye see.” So we turned off to the right, and soon came up to the stack-yard, and within sight of the house. The farmer was hurrying out into the road, and his wife was standing at the gate, looking very frightened.</p>
-			<p>“Have you seen my boy?” said <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Bushby as we came up, “he went out an hour ago on my black pony, and the creature is just come back without a rider.”</p>
+			<p>“Have you seen my boy?” said <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Bushby as we came up, “he went out an hour ago on my black pony, and the creature is just come back without a rider.”</p>
 			<p>“I should think, sir,” said John, “he had better be without a rider, unless he can be ridden properly.”</p>
 			<p>“What do you mean?” said the farmer.</p>
 			<p>“Well, sir, I saw your son whipping, and kicking, and knocking that good little pony about shamefully because he would not leap a gate that was too high for him. The pony behaved well, sir, and showed no vice; but at last he just threw up his heels and tipped the young gentleman into the thorn hedge. He wanted me to help him out, but I hope you will excuse me, sir, I did not feel inclined to do so. There’s no bones broken, sir; he’ll only get a few scratches. I love horses, and it riles me to see them badly used; it is a bad plan to aggravate an animal till he uses his heels; the first time is not always the last.”</p>

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@@ -12,11 +12,11 @@
 				<p epub:type="title">Going for the Doctor</p>
 			</hgroup>
 			<p>One night, a few days after James had left, I had eaten my hay and was lying down in my straw fast asleep, when I was suddenly roused by the stable bell ringing very loud. I heard the door of John’s house open, and his feet running up to the hall. He was back again in no time; he unlocked the stable door, and came in, calling out, “Wake up, Beauty! You must go well now, if ever you did,” and almost before I could think he had got the saddle on my back and the bridle on my head. He just ran round for his coat, and then took me at a quick trot up to the hall door. The squire stood there, with a lamp in his hand.</p>
-			<p>“Now, John,” he said, “ride for your life⁠—that is, for your mistress’ life; there is not a moment to lose. Give this note to <abbr>Dr.</abbr> White; give your horse a rest at the inn, and be back as soon as you can.”</p>
+			<p>“Now, John,” he said, “ride for your life⁠—that is, for your mistress’ life; there is not a moment to lose. Give this note to <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Dr.</abbr> White; give your horse a rest at the inn, and be back as soon as you can.”</p>
 			<p>John said, “Yes, sir,” and was on my back in a minute. The gardener who lived at the lodge had heard the bell ring, and was ready with the gate open, and away we went through the park, and through the village, and down the hill till we came to the tollgate. John called very loud and thumped upon the door; the man was soon out and flung open the gate.</p>
 			<p>“Now,” said John, “do you keep the gate open for the doctor; here’s the money,” and off he went again.</p>
-			<p>There was before us a long piece of level road by the river side; John said to me, “Now, Beauty, do your best,” and so I did; I wanted no whip nor spur, and for two miles I galloped as fast as I could lay my feet to the ground; I don’t believe that my old grandfather, who won the race at Newmarket, could have gone faster. When we came to the bridge John pulled me up a little and patted my neck. “Well done, Beauty! good old fellow,” he said. He would have let me go slower, but my spirit was up, and I was off again as fast as before. The air was frosty, the moon was bright; it was very pleasant. We came through a village, then through a dark wood, then uphill, then downhill, till after eight miles’ run we came to the town, through the streets and into the marketplace. It was all quite still except the clatter of my feet on the stones⁠—everybody was asleep. The church clock struck three as we drew up at <abbr>Dr.</abbr> White’s door. John rang the bell twice, and then knocked at the door like thunder. A window was thrown up, and <abbr>Dr.</abbr> White, in his nightcap, put his head out and said, “What do you want?”</p>
-			<p>“<abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Gordon is very ill, sir; master wants you to go at once; he thinks she will die if you cannot get there. Here is a note.”</p>
+			<p>There was before us a long piece of level road by the river side; John said to me, “Now, Beauty, do your best,” and so I did; I wanted no whip nor spur, and for two miles I galloped as fast as I could lay my feet to the ground; I don’t believe that my old grandfather, who won the race at Newmarket, could have gone faster. When we came to the bridge John pulled me up a little and patted my neck. “Well done, Beauty! good old fellow,” he said. He would have let me go slower, but my spirit was up, and I was off again as fast as before. The air was frosty, the moon was bright; it was very pleasant. We came through a village, then through a dark wood, then uphill, then downhill, till after eight miles’ run we came to the town, through the streets and into the marketplace. It was all quite still except the clatter of my feet on the stones⁠—everybody was asleep. The church clock struck three as we drew up at <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Dr.</abbr> White’s door. John rang the bell twice, and then knocked at the door like thunder. A window was thrown up, and <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Dr.</abbr> White, in his nightcap, put his head out and said, “What do you want?”</p>
+			<p>“<abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Gordon is very ill, sir; master wants you to go at once; he thinks she will die if you cannot get there. Here is a note.”</p>
 			<p>“Wait,” he said, “I will come.”</p>
 			<p>He shut the window, and was soon at the door.</p>
 			<p>“The worst of it is,” he said, “that my horse has been out all day and is quite done up; my son has just been sent for, and he has taken the other. What is to be done? Can I have your horse?”</p>

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@@ -11,7 +11,7 @@
 				<h3 epub:type="ordinal z3998:roman">XIX</h3>
 				<p epub:type="title">Only Ignorance</p>
 			</hgroup>
-			<p>I do not know how long I was ill. <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Bond, the horse-doctor, came every day. One day he bled me; John held a pail for the blood. I felt very faint after it and thought I should die, and I believe they all thought so too.</p>
+			<p>I do not know how long I was ill. <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Bond, the horse-doctor, came every day. One day he bled me; John held a pail for the blood. I felt very faint after it and thought I should die, and I believe they all thought so too.</p>
 			<p>Ginger and Merrylegs had been moved into the other stable, so that I might be quiet, for the fever made me very quick of hearing; any little noise seemed quite loud, and I could tell everyone’s footstep going to and from the house. I knew all that was going on. One night John had to give me a draught; Thomas Green came in to help him. After I had taken it and John had made me as comfortable as he could, he said he should stay half an hour to see how the medicine settled. Thomas said he would stay with him, so they went and sat down on a bench that had been brought into Merrylegs’ stall, and put down the lantern at their feet, that I might not be disturbed with the light.</p>
 			<p>For awhile both men sat silent, and then Tom Green said in a low voice:</p>
 			<p>“I wish, John, you’d say a bit of a kind word to Joe. The boy is quite brokenhearted; he can’t eat his meals, and he can’t smile. He says he knows it was all his fault, though he is sure he did the best he knew, and he says if Beauty dies no one will ever speak to him again. It goes to my heart to hear him. I think you might give him just a word; he is not a bad boy.”</p>

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 			<p>I thought the same, but my mother did not join with us.</p>
 			<p>“Well, no,” she said, “you must not say that; but though I am an old horse, and have seen and heard a great deal, I never yet could make out why men are so fond of this sport; they often hurt themselves, often spoil good horses, and tear up the fields, and all for a hare or a fox, or a stag, that they could get more easily some other way; but we are only horses, and don’t know.”</p>
 			<p>While my mother was saying this we stood and looked on. Many of the riders had gone to the young man; but my master, who had been watching what was going on, was the first to raise him. His head fell back and his arms hung down, and everyone looked very serious. There was no noise now; even the dogs were quiet, and seemed to know that something was wrong. They carried him to our master’s house. I heard afterward that it was young George Gordon, the squire’s only son, a fine, tall young man, and the pride of his family.</p>
-			<p>There was now riding off in all directions to the doctor’s, to the farrier’s, and no doubt to Squire Gordon’s, to let him know about his son. When <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Bond, the farrier, came to look at the black horse that lay groaning on the grass, he felt him all over, and shook his head; one of his legs was broken. Then someone ran to our master’s house and came back with a gun; presently there was a loud bang and a dreadful shriek, and then all was still; the black horse moved no more.</p>
+			<p>There was now riding off in all directions to the doctor’s, to the farrier’s, and no doubt to Squire Gordon’s, to let him know about his son. When <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Bond, the farrier, came to look at the black horse that lay groaning on the grass, he felt him all over, and shook his head; one of his legs was broken. Then someone ran to our master’s house and came back with a gun; presently there was a loud bang and a dreadful shriek, and then all was still; the black horse moved no more.</p>
 			<p>My mother seemed much troubled; she said she had known that horse for years, and that his name was Rob Roy; he was a good horse, and there was no vice in him. She never would go to that part of the field afterward.</p>
 			<p>Not many days after we heard the church-bell tolling for a long time, and looking over the gate we saw a long, strange black coach that was covered with black cloth and was drawn by black horses; after that came another and another and another, and all were black, while the bell kept tolling, tolling. They were carrying young Gordon to the churchyard to bury him. He would never ride again. What they did with Rob Roy I never knew; but ’twas all for one little hare.</p>
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@@ -17,9 +17,9 @@
 			<p>The man took no heed, but went on lashing.</p>
 			<p>“Stop! pray stop!” said Joe. “I’ll help you to lighten the cart; they can’t move it now.”</p>
 			<p>“Mind your own business, you impudent young rascal, and I’ll mind mine!” The man was in a towering passion and the worse for drink, and laid on the whip again. Joe turned my head, and the next moment we were going at a round gallop toward the house of the master brick-maker. I cannot say if John would have approved of our pace, but Joe and I were both of one mind, and so angry that we could not have gone slower.</p>
-			<p>The house stood close by the roadside. Joe knocked at the door, and shouted, “Halloo! Is <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Clay at home?” The door was opened, and <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Clay himself came out.</p>
+			<p>The house stood close by the roadside. Joe knocked at the door, and shouted, “Halloo! Is <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Clay at home?” The door was opened, and <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Clay himself came out.</p>
 			<p>“Halloo, young man! You seem in a hurry; any orders from the squire this morning?”</p>
-			<p>“No, <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Clay, but there’s a fellow in your brickyard flogging two horses to death. I told him to stop, and he wouldn’t; I said I’d help him to lighten the cart, and he wouldn’t; so I have come to tell you. Pray, sir, go.” Joe’s voice shook with excitement.</p>
+			<p>“No, <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Clay, but there’s a fellow in your brickyard flogging two horses to death. I told him to stop, and he wouldn’t; I said I’d help him to lighten the cart, and he wouldn’t; so I have come to tell you. Pray, sir, go.” Joe’s voice shook with excitement.</p>
 			<p>“Thank ye, my lad,” said the man, running in for his hat; then pausing for a moment, “Will you give evidence of what you saw if I should bring the fellow up before a magistrate?”</p>
 			<p>“That I will,” said Joe, “and glad too.” The man was gone, and we were on our way home at a smart trot.</p>
 			<p>“Why, what’s the matter with you, Joe? You look angry all over,” said John, as the boy flung himself from the saddle.</p>