Semanticate

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 			<p>There was one event which occurred in my childhood, which I cannot recall without a feeling of sadness. It was the death of my brother Samuel, who was accidentally killed in his twelfth year.</p>
 			<p>My father at the time, being considerable of a politician as well as a farmer, was attending a political convention; for he was well known in those days as an old line Whig. He had been a member of the Iowa legislature, was a Justice of the Peace, and had held other offices. He was an excellent stump speaker and was often called upon to canvass the country round about for different candidates. The convention which he was attending at the time of the accident was being held at a crossroad tavern called “Sherman’s,” about a mile away.</p>
 			<p>Samuel and I had gone out together on horseback for the cows. He rode a vicious mare, which mother had told him time and again not to ride, as it had an ugly disposition. We were passing the school house just as the children were being dismissed, when Samuel undertook to give an exhibition of his horsemanship, he being a good rider for a boy. The mare, Betsy, became unmanageable, reared and fell backward upon him, injuring him internally. He was picked up and carried amid great excitement to the house of a neighbor.</p>
-			<p>I at once set out with my horse at the top of his speed for my father, and informed him of Samuel’s mishap. He took the horse and returned immediately. When I arrived at <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Burns’ house, where my brother was, I found my father, mother and sisters there, all weeping bitterly at Samuel’s bedside. A physician, after examining him, pronounced his injuries to be of a fatal character. He died the next morning.</p>
+			<p>I at once set out with my horse at the top of his speed for my father, and informed him of Samuel’s mishap. He took the horse and returned immediately. When I arrived at <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Burns’ house, where my brother was, I found my father, mother and sisters there, all weeping bitterly at Samuel’s bedside. A physician, after examining him, pronounced his injuries to be of a fatal character. He died the next morning.</p>
 			<p>My brother was a great favorite with everybody, and his death cast a gloom upon the whole neighborhood. It was a great blow to all of the family, and especially to father who seemed to be almost heart broken over it.</p>
 			<p>Father had been greatly disappointed at the failure of his California expedition, and still desired to move to some new country. The death of Samuel no doubt increased this desire, and he determined to emigrate. Accordingly, early in the spring of 1852, he disposed of his farm, and late in March we took our departure for Kansas, which was then an unsettled territory. Our outfit consisted of one carriage, three wagons and some fine blooded horses. The carriage was occupied by my mother and sisters. Thus we left our Iowa home.</p>
 			<p>Father had a brother, Elijah Cody, living at Weston, Platte county, Missouri. He was the leading merchant of the place. As the town was located near the Kansas line father determined to visit him, and thither our journey was directed. Our route lay across Iowa and Missouri, and the trip proved of interest to all of us, and especially to me. There was something new to be seen at nearly every turn of the road. At night the family generally “put up” at hotels or crossroad taverns along the way.</p>
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 			<p>“Wa-all, you could have broke <em>me</em>” said the man who wanted to bet the five hundred dollars to one hundred, “for that there nag o’ yourn looks no more like a runner nor I do.”</p>
 			<p>During our stay in the place they treated us very kindly, and continued to try to purchase Little Gray. My father, however, remained firm in his determination not to part with him.</p>
 			<p>The next place of interest which we reached, after resuming our journey, was within twenty miles of Weston. We had been stopping at farm houses along the road, and could not get anything to eat in the shape of bread, except corn bread, of which all had become heartily tired. As we were driving along, we saw in the distance a large and handsome brick residence. Father said: “They probably have white bread there.”</p>
-			<p>We drove up to the house and learned that it was owned and occupied by <abbr>Mrs.</abbr> Burns; mother of a well-known lawyer of that name, who is now living in Leavenworth. She was a wealthy lady, and gave us to understand in a pleasant way, that she did not entertain travelers. My father, in the course of the conversation with her, said: “Do you know Elijah Cody?”</p>
+			<p>We drove up to the house and learned that it was owned and occupied by <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mrs.</abbr> Burns; mother of a well-known lawyer of that name, who is now living in Leavenworth. She was a wealthy lady, and gave us to understand in a pleasant way, that she did not entertain travelers. My father, in the course of the conversation with her, said: “Do you know Elijah Cody?”</p>
 			<p>“Indeed, I do,” said she; “he frequently visits us, and we visit him; we are the best of friends.”</p>
 			<p>“He is a brother of mine,” said father.</p>
 			<p>“Is it possible!” she exclaimed; “Why, you must remain here all night. Have your family come into the house at once. You must not go another step today.”</p>

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 			<p>The next spring, 1862, an expedition against the Indians was organized, consisting of a volunteer regiment, the Ninth Kansas, under Colonel Clark. This expedition, which I had joined in the capacity of guide and scout, proceeded to the Kiowa and Comanche country, on the Arkansas River, along which stream we scouted all summer between Fort Lyon and Fort Larned, on the old Santa Fe trail. We had several engagements with the Indians, but they were of no great importance.</p>
 			<p>In the winter of 1862, I became one of the “Red Legged Scouts,”⁠—a company of scouts commanded by Captain Tuff. Among its members were some of the most noted Kansas Rangers, such as Red Clark, the <abbr>St.</abbr> Clair brothers, Jack Harvey, an old pony express-rider named Johnny Fry, and many other well known frontiersmen. Our field of operations was confined mostly to the Arkansas country and southwestern Missouri. We had many a lively skirmish with the bushwhackers and Younger brothers, and when we were not hunting them, we were generally employed in carrying dispatches between Forts Dodge, Gibson, Leavenworth, and other posts. Whenever we were in Leavenworth we had a very festive time. We usually attended all the balls in full force, and “ran things” to suit ourselves. Thus I passed the winter of 1862 and the spring of 1863.</p>
 			<p>Subsequently I engaged to conduct a small train to Denver for some merchants, and on reaching that place in September, I received a letter stating that my mother was not expected to live. I hastened home, and found her dangerously ill. She grew gradually worse, and at last, on the 22nd of November, 1863, she died. Thus passed away a loving and affectionate mother and a noble, brave, good and loyal woman. That I loved her above all other persons, no one who has read these reminiscences can for a moment doubt.</p>
-			<p>Previous to this said event my sister Julia had been married to a gentleman named <abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">J. A.</abbr> Goodman, and they now came to reside at our house and take charge of the children, as my mother had desired that they should not be separated. <abbr>Mr.</abbr> Goodman became the guardian of the minor children.</p>
+			<p>Previous to this said event my sister Julia had been married to a gentleman named <abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">J. A.</abbr> Goodman, and they now came to reside at our house and take charge of the children, as my mother had desired that they should not be separated. <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Goodman became the guardian of the minor children.</p>
 			<p>I soon left the home now rendered gloomy by the absence of her whom I had so tenderly loved, and going to Leavenworth I entered upon a dissolute and reckless life⁠—to my shame be it said⁠—and associated with gamblers, drunkards, and bad characters generally. I continued my dissipation about two months, and was becoming a very “hard case.” About this time the Seventh Kansas regiment, known as “Jennison’s Jay-hawkers,” returned from the war, and re-enlisted and reorganized as veterans. Among them I met quite a number of my old comrades and neighbors, who tried to induce me to enlist and go south with them. I had no idea of doing anything of the kind; but one day, after having been under the influence of bad whisky, I awoke to find myself a soldier in the Seventh Kansas. I did not remember how or when I had enlisted, but I saw I was in for it, and that it would not do for me to endeavor to back out.</p>
 			<p>In the spring of 1864 the regiment was ordered to Tennessee, and we got into Memphis just about the time that General Sturgis was so badly whipped by General Forrest. General <abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">A. J.</abbr> Smith reorganized the army to operate against Forrest, and after marching to Tupalo, Mississippi, we had an engagement with him and defeated him. This kind of fighting was all new to me, being entirely different from any in which I had ever before engaged. I soon became a noncommissioned officer, and was put on detached service as a scout.</p>
 			<p>After skirmishing around the country with the rest of the army for some little time, our regiment returned to Memphis, but was immediately ordered to Cape Girardeau, in Missouri, as a confederate force under General Price was then raiding that state. The command of which my regiment was a part hurried to the front to intercept Price, and our first fight with him occurred at Pilot Knob. From that time for nearly six weeks we fought or skirmished every day.</p>

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 			<p>“What does it mean?” I asked; “What are they saying? It’s all a mystery to me.”</p>
 			<p>“They say that you are one of the Kansas jay-hawkers, and one of Jennison’s house burners,” replied the gentleman.</p>
 			<p>“I am from Kansas⁠—that’s true; and was a soldier and a scout in the Union army,” said I; “and I was in Kansas during the border ruffian war of 1856. Perhaps these people know who I am, and that explains their hard looks.” I had a lengthy conversation with this gentleman⁠—for such he seemed to be⁠—and entertained him with several chapters of the history of the early Kansas troubles, and told him the experiences of my own family.</p>
-			<p>In the evening the Lexington folks got up a dance, but neither the Indiana people, my wife or myself were invited to join them. My newfound friend thereupon came to me and said: “<abbr>Mr.</abbr> Cody, let us have a dance of our own.”</p>
+			<p>In the evening the Lexington folks got up a dance, but neither the Indiana people, my wife or myself were invited to join them. My newfound friend thereupon came to me and said: “<abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Mr.</abbr> Cody, let us have a dance of our own.”</p>
 			<p>“Very well,” was my reply.</p>
 			<p>“We have some musicians along with us, so we can have plenty of music,” remarked the gentleman.</p>
 			<p>“Good enough!” said I, “and I will hire the negro barber to play the violin for us. He is a good fiddler, as I heard him playing only a little while ago.” The result was that we soon organized a good string band and had a splendid dance, keeping it up as long as the Lexington party did theirs.</p>
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 			<p>I afterwards ascertained that some of the Missourians, who were with the excursion party, were bushwhackers themselves, and had telegraphed to their friends from some previous landing that I was on board, telling them to come to the landing which we had just left, and take me off. Had the villains captured me they would have undoubtedly put an end to my career, and the public would never have had the pleasure of being bored by this autobiography.</p>
 			<p>I noticed that my wife felt grieved over the manner in which these people had treated me. Just married, she was going into a new country, and seeing how her husband was regarded, how he had been shunned, and how his life had been threatened, I was afraid she might come to the conclusion too soon that she had wedded a “hard customer.” So when the boat landed at Kansas City I telegraphed to some of my friends in Leavenworth that I would arrive there in the evening. My object was to have my acquaintances give me a reception, so that my wife could see that I really did have some friends, and was not so bad a man as the bushwhackers tried to make out.</p>
 			<p>Just as I expected, when the boat reached Leavenworth, I found a general roundup of friends at the landing to receive us. There were about sixty gentlemen and ladies. They had a band of music with them, and we were given a fine serenade. Taking carriages, we all drove to South Leavenworth to the home of my sister Eliza, who had married George Myers, and there we were given a very handsome reception. All this cheered up my wife, who concluded that I was not a desperado after all.</p>
-			<p>Having promised my wife that I would abandon the plains, I rented a hotel in Salt Creek Valley⁠—the same house by the way, which my mother had formerly kept, but which was then owned by <abbr>Dr.</abbr> <abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">J. J.</abbr> Crook, late surgeon of the 7th Kansas. This hotel I called the Golden Rule House, and I kept it until the next September. People generally said I made a good landlord, and knew how to run a hotel⁠—a business qualification which, it is said, is possessed by comparatively few men. But it proved too tame employment for me, and again I sighed for the freedom of the plains. Believing that I could make more money out West on the frontier than I could at Salt Creek Valley, I sold out the Golden Rule House, and started alone for Saline, Kansas, which was then the end of the track of the Kansas Pacific railway, which was at that time being built across the plains. On my way I stopped at Junction City, where I again met my old friend Wild Bill, who was scouting for the government; his headquarters being at Fort Ellsworth, afterwards called Fort Harker. He told me that they needed more scouts at this post, and I accordingly accompanied him to that fort, where I had no difficulty in obtaining employment.</p>
+			<p>Having promised my wife that I would abandon the plains, I rented a hotel in Salt Creek Valley⁠—the same house by the way, which my mother had formerly kept, but which was then owned by <abbr epub:type="z3998:name-title">Dr.</abbr> <abbr epub:type="z3998:given-name">J. J.</abbr> Crook, late surgeon of the 7th Kansas. This hotel I called the Golden Rule House, and I kept it until the next September. People generally said I made a good landlord, and knew how to run a hotel⁠—a business qualification which, it is said, is possessed by comparatively few men. But it proved too tame employment for me, and again I sighed for the freedom of the plains. Believing that I could make more money out West on the frontier than I could at Salt Creek Valley, I sold out the Golden Rule House, and started alone for Saline, Kansas, which was then the end of the track of the Kansas Pacific railway, which was at that time being built across the plains. On my way I stopped at Junction City, where I again met my old friend Wild Bill, who was scouting for the government; his headquarters being at Fort Ellsworth, afterwards called Fort Harker. He told me that they needed more scouts at this post, and I accordingly accompanied him to that fort, where I had no difficulty in obtaining employment.</p>
 			<p>During the winter of 1866⁠–⁠67, I scouted between Fort Ellsworth and Fort Fletcher. In the spring of 1867 I was at Fort Fletcher, when General Custer came out to go on an Indian expedition with General Hancock. I remained at this post until it was drowned out by the heavy floods of Big Creek, on which it was located; the water rose about the fortifications and rendered the place unfit for occupancy; so the government abandoned the fort, and moved the troops and supplies to a new post⁠—which had been named Fort Hays⁠—located further west, on the south fork of Big Creek. It was while scouting in the vicinity of Fort Hays that I had my first ride with the dashing and gallant Custer, who had come up to the post from Fort Ellsworth with an escort of only ten men. He wanted a guide to pilot him to Fort Larned, a distance of sixty-five miles across the country.</p>
 			<p>I was ordered by the commanding officer to guide General Custer to his desired destination, and I soon received word from the General that he would start out in the morning with the intention of making the trip in one day. Early in the morning, after a good night’s rest, I was on hand, mounted on my large mouse-colored mule⁠—an animal of great endurance⁠—and ready for the journey; when the General saw me, he said:</p>
 			<p>“Cody, I want to travel fast and go through as quickly as possible, and I don’t think that mule of yours is fast enough to suit me.”</p>