William James Endly was born 01 Jan 1850 in Guernsey County, Ohio.  When he was seven years old, the family moved to Kansas.  Here is what he wrote about that:

Early Days in Kansas … by William J. Endly

This writer came to Kansas in 1857, this was the year in which most of the settlers reached Kansas Territory.
I was only seven years old at the time and in company with Father, Mother, and cousins left our home in Ohio, with a team of horses, wagon and household goods. Embarked on a steamboat at Cincinnati, we went down the Ohio River to St. Louis Missouri. After changing boats, started up the Missouri River for what was then the great west. It was a long and tedious journey for the river was low and we frequently got stuck on sandbars. We arrived at Kansas City, which was as yet not counted as the gateway to the west, only a steamboat landing.
After loading up our effects, we started out in the afternoon for our claim … camped a few miles south of Kansas City for the night. Next day, August 11, we arrived at the claim about sundown tired and weary. My father had been out in April and taken the claim. An uncle Henry Burkholter had come later and built us a cabin [and] one for himself roofing them with clapboard. The cabins were without floors, doors, or windows, my uncle not being able to get materials.
Father on his former trips had staked out where the cabin was to be built … near an excellent spring. He had been telling us all the way out what a good spring it was … ice cold, gushing out of the bank of the ravine as thick as his arm. We came to a stop [and] he immediately took two buckets and made for his spring. In a few minutes he returned with empty buckets … his beautiful spring in April was bone dry in August. He was very discouraged and at a loss to know what to do … just what move to make.
About this time a man came riding up on a horse, following a dim trail of a cow path which passed close to the cabin. Grandmother began to call, “Henry! Henry!” The man rode back and said, “I am not Henry, I am Frank Powell. I have a claim two miles south. I know your son, Henry Paden  (See Catherine Paden’s page) and I will ride over and tell him you are here.”
At that time Mother came up and asked him about water. He told us there was a spring about 3/4 of a mile away and showed us the path that led to it. Taking the pails, we secured sufficient water to do us for the Night. My uncle arrived soon after. The next day the men dug a well three feet deep and it gave us a good supply of water for stock and house use. The following week we secured native lumber for floors from a saw mill near Prairie City. Later on, our doors came from Kansas City.

Great Grandfather also wrote this about his childhood:

In pioneer days ministers were poorly paid, this applied to all denominations. They seldom received any money, but subsisted on contributions of food stuffs … like General Sherman’s march from Atlanta to the sea…they lived off the country. Pioneers were helpful and generous without any regard of denomination or creed.
I remember well, when a boy being sent by my parents to take some flour, meal, meat, and canned goods to our minister, Rev. Reed (Presbyterian] and was given money [and] told to stop on the way at our neighbor’s, John McCarthy, and get 1/2 bushel of potatoes. We had not raised any but he had a good crop.
I drove up, stated my errand to Mr. McCarthy and tendered him the pay. He said, “Put your money in your pocket, lad. I don’t want anything for them.” I had a two bushel sack, when I thought he had the right amount in the sack, I told him he had enough. He said, “Hold the sack.” [and] he filled it full. He also brought out a large ham, putting it all in the wagon, then said, “Tell Rev. Reede that his Irish friend John McCarthy sends him these and when these are gone, come and get some more.” As a seeming after thought, he added, “Mr. Reed is a good man, when he goes to see the sick, he never stops to ask if they are Protestant or Catholic.”
I delivered the combined contributions on the little porch of Mr. Reed’s residence [and] gave him Mr. McCarthy’s message. He received it with tears in his eyes, dropped to his knees and offered up a sincere prayer for the many blessings he had received. Boy that I was, I knew we were none to soon to relieve his needs.

William James Endly married Isabella J. Armstrong 16 Jun 1870 in Edgerton, Johnson County, Kansas.  The marriage is recorded in Book C, Page 16, Johnson County, KS records for 1870 -1879 (transcribed to the Internet by Maureen K. Reed). They had eight children:  Elmont Wilbur, Edith Nolana, Harwin Julian, Harriet Bertha, Brenda Brooks, Ola Irene, Edna May, and Herbert Lawrence.

And there is this amusing little story:

“The Edgerton Journal” – January 14,1921 – Edgerton, Kansas

A Coon Hunt of 50 years ago,
Former Resident Writes of Early Day Sport

Recently while on a brief visit to Edgerton I met many of my boyhood friends and neighbors, among the number being Florence McCarthy, which reminded me of a coon hunt in which he and I were co-partners about 55 years ago.

Thinking that perhaps a story of that hunt might prove readable to some of those same old friends, whose hearty handclasp afforded me much pleasure while on my visit, I am submitting it to the readers of the Journal; for what it may be worth.

The hunt referred to was in the company of Florence, J. W. and Edward McCarthy, who with two excellent Coon Dogs (that were not of Imported Stock that required a full page to describe their ancestry or six figures to give the number of their pedigrees) but just common cur dogs that thoroughly understood the dogly art of coon hunting.

We started along the creek which was heavily timbered at that time but did not strike any trail until we reached an old land mark known as McLain’s Spring doubtless remembered by many of the older settlers. There the dogs picked up a trail of something –we knew not what, but the hunt was on and away we went helter-skelter through brush, grape vines, and briars– stopping only long enough to pick ourselves up –after falling over log or stump. We kept up as best we could until at near one-half a mile from the spring, at a bend in the creek, the dogs stopped, having treed a coon (as we decided after locating him well up in the tree about five or six feet out on a limb).

The tree was a bass-wood that stood on the bank of the creek and leaned over the water at an angle of about 30 degrees; on the under side of the tree a limb had broken off leaving quite a cavity or hole.
At the time we all thought that we had only one coon treed but later events demonstrated the fact that there were two and while Bobby Coon was out on the limb, Mrs. Bobby Coon was safely hidden from view in the cavity on the underside of the tree.

We had no guns and the only way to get that coon was to climb the tree and separate him from the limb on which he was lying, calmly watching the movements of his enemies below. So a council was held and I was selected to climb the tree and dislodge Mr. Coon. After cutting a suitable stick or pole, I climbed to the limb on which the coon was lying –which was at a point a little above but directly over the cavity on the underside–and proceeded to prod Mr. Coon from his lofty perch. The other boys and the dogs were below, anxiously watching every movement and when I prodded Mr. Coon off that limb business began to pick up with remarkable speed –almost too rapid for thought.

When Bobby left the limb, he alighted about the middle of the creek where the water was probably shoulder deep and I do not think he had more than touched the water when those two dogs had hold of him. J. W. and Edward immediately waded in to assist the dogs for it is a well-known fact recognized by all expert coon hunters (such as we were) that a good healthy coon can easily drown a dog in the water.

When I punched Bobby from that limb, Mrs. Coon evidently concluded that it was the proper time to leave her safe retreat and make a run for liberty — which she proceeded to do by running up around the tree, making free use of my back as a race track and I do not think that either before or since have I been worse scared than at that moment! I came near losing my hold and falling but events were transpiring much too rapidly to be scared very long and I descended as fast as possible.

In the meantime, Mrs. Coon, after running over my back, ran part way back down the tree and jumped off –lighting just at the edge of the water. Florence grabbed her by the tail and the fight was on. And I tell you, friends, it was a battle royal too! It was the instinct of animal life for self-preservation against the muscle, brawn, and wit of the Irish race and I think it is safe to say that Florence has, at no time in his life, been a busier man than he was for the brief time that fight lasted. As long as he could keep that coon’s head under water he was all right; but that seemed to be only about half the time and when he was not actively employed in keeping his hands free from teeth and claws, he was lustily calling for somebody to help him let go that coon!

I got down from the tree and J. W. and Edward, with the dogs having captured their coon, met at about the same time on Florence’s battleground and among us were able to rescue him from his hazardous occupation. We triumphantly marched home with two coons, tired but happy boys. (Coonskins at that time were worth anywhere from 20 to 50 cents each –a fortune at that time to country boys.)

In conclusion, we will say to any of the Edgerton High School boys, who are now making a study of the manly art of self-defence or of athletics, in general, as displayed in baseball, football and kindred games: If you are looking for a real game in which you can get a real thrill in a brief space of time, just grab a healthy coon by the tail with one hand and try keeping his head under water. You will find that he can face the four points of the compass apparently with one movement and describe a three hundred and sixty degree circle in a brief space of time –and I think Florence McCarthy will back me up on this statement.

Should the readers of the Journal desire any more coon stories, just draw on me any time, but I give you fair warning that the next one will be founded in fiction and not on fact as this one is.

W. J. Endly

(Note: I added punctuation in places to clarify the meaning of the story. pwc)

William James Endly died 22 July 1928 in Emporia, Kansas.

Funeral for W. J. Endly
Funeral services for William James Endly, 1006 Chestnut, who died Sunday, were held at the home, Tuesday afternoon at 2 o’clock. Rev. C. F. Hoffman, pastor of the United Presbyterian Church conducted the services. Marschall Randel sand “Still, Still With Thee,” and “No Night There.” Pallbearers were Byron Chance, James Wood, John F. White, Fred Brland, Fred Rowlands, and A. C. Burt. Interment was made in the Maplewood cemetery. The Masonic lodge had charge of the services at the cemetery.
William James Endly, Son of William H. and Catherine Endly, was born January 1, 1850, near Cambridge, Ohio, and died July 22 at his home. Mr. Endly was 78 years old. He joined the Presbyterian Chruch when he was 19 years old and was married to Miss Isabel Armstong, June 16, 1870. Eight children were born, five of whom survive. Mr. Endly had been employed at the storehouse of the Santa Fe for several years.
Surviving Mr. Endly are: Mrs. W. J. Endly and five children, E. W. Endly, H. L. Endly, Mrs. Ralph Sonnedecker, Mrs. Harley Gilbert, of Emporia, and Mrs. Harriet Weaver of Elmdale.
The Emporia Weekly Gazette
Emporia, Kansas
02 Aug 1928, Thu ° Page 4

William James Endly’s was buried in Maplewood Memorial Lawn Cemetery in Emporia, Kansas.  His Find A Grave page is 23321614,