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About The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current | View Entire Issue (Nov. 3, 1901)
TfFTFTVTp fjwr rymm"" v - ,-" V7'3?T'ip'T"?f ''V1 ! IfTTS lgg?3PPVM-Ti x.rv Q ftj&n'r ?oTz v i ! fei-, . . - -fc Pag'es 25 o 52 ----- ,5"" " y . miiiimii11: : rsw r-iifiTOiiiinHiir:- -. mlmlil I f e r VOL. XX. MRU (zf& v mid (ipiyi(p(ihffi wffifB a w ifwrnyicWs' ' 1 HEiiBBiHBwHHM'HiBaS i " " WMmt yl' ' - ' - . . sidesaddle, and -wore a gown that -was I nvHHSBnBHnRfiHHPi "ftnB$ ) X fashioned after the riding habit of polite 1 I BM&SfliKlvHSSflsHIHHL'IRBBL fc ' BBhI I A us l society. The beast was saddled, bridled! 1 IIBHPBBBiBk'1 'CBum If rf w&?&mG -!S!irimx ' ts,'4KaiSr-swaB3te and led to the center of a IarQ field. xIKHFBIP' .m'V' ( 7i - ' W-,?P:':R Then came the pyrotechnics ? IHff P v - BP' - - V' 3Hr '1 ' ' fcW? -? '' ' :4S3BI Entlne Gymnastics. OSIEN have filled. the avoca- catlons of men to such an extent that there is hardly a calling or profession that has' not Its feminine con tingent. But It Is safe to say that there arc not many who live the strenuous life that Mrs. Jllnnle Thorpe Austen has" led since her girlhood. She 43 a cowboy in pet ticoats, with the daring and nerve of the pioneer of the plains. With the passing of the "wild and woolly "West." extinction is threatened-ot the American qowboy. Nowhere In the world can a found his prototype; "he is alone and occupies a unique position in the world of men. Remington has pic tured him a wide-brimmed sombrero, with clanking spurs, his lariat colled at his saddle pommel and a brace of slx-ehoot-ers swung carelessly at his belt, ready for anything from a cattle stampede to the frolic of ''shooting up" some frontier town. Roosevelt and' other writers have limned his characteristics and traits, with apllv turned sentences and descriptive sketches that supply the information that the drawings intimate but do not express xn woras. He is a rollicking, roystenng ' son 01 the plains, and fears neither God, man nor devil. But what of the feminine type In the same calling? Ah, here's the surprise. la a- modest home In woodlawn lives a little woman, still young and attractive, but with the dignity and seriousness that come with matronhood, who can ride with the hardl- i est cowboy of the plains. Bucking horses re to her what the gently rocked cradle Is to a fretful infant, yet shecan do the little things that are essentially feminine with all the grace that Is Inherent In her sex. It Is a far cry from roping a steer to baking a pan of light biscuits, but In J either or tneso occupations 3lrs. Minnie Austen IS at home, and, truth, to say, sne does both wefL Tfca fearless horsewomanshlp of &rs. -w " ' ' '??y " IKs Iu05mK2''N" TVi tflHLISHBHnt &''J3 Austen can be attributed to her early en vironment. Her father was Thomas Thorpe, and a shrewder dealer In horses and cattle never flourished in this land of webfeet and floods. In Southern Ore gon his wa9 a name to conjure with. He had one of the largest ranches in the "West, and he turned out eiteh year some of the wildest horses and wildest cattle that were ever offered to the public for inspection and purchase. But of the horses there was a certain percentage, during his later years, that could be counted upon as being well broken, relia ble and otherwise desirable. A gentlef but firm-hand, had taken from them the spirit or rebellious deviltry, and had transformed demons of restless activ ity into tractable beasts of aid to man. and amenable to his purpose. -Growing up, as she did, surrounded, with horses and catttle, It lq not to be wondered at that the daughter of the house soon be came a proficient and daring horsewoman. When she was a little toddler, barely able to lisp "papa," her father would place her on the back of a trusted family horse, and the small tot 'would then ride around the barnyard, or, joined by "daddy,' would be taken on a jaunt to tho nearest town. Horses had no fear for the "baby girl, and they have none Tor the matured woman. During1 her girlhood, which was largely spent on the home ranch, she be came accustomed to seeing dally the cow boyB breaking the wild horses. Ponies Xoi her own use occasionally recalled bucking feats of their earlier days, .and little by-, little she wa9 initiated into the knack of sticking to the saddle, no mat ter how tempestuous the steed became. The young woman became ambitious; she wanted to do what the men were do ing, in subduing horses which had In them, all the savage wildnes9 of the wide, limitless plains. The start was gradual at iirst, a horse that had been partially PORTLAND, OREGON, SUNDAY MORNING, broken, then a fiercer .beast, until Anally she attempted to break In animals that had never "before known bridle or rope. . If the novice fancies that a stunt of this sort is an easy one, he should try it; but first he should make his will. For, of almosj. a surety, there will. In the near future, be .a little green mound, covered with floral emblems, and the papers will say that another good man has gone to his reward. O'f all "ornery," Intractable, uncontrollable propositions In the world, the wild, untamed horse of the Western ranch Is th limit, and beyond. The tiger about to spring on his victim Is mild as a croquet tournament compared with a bucking, rearing, tbronco that feels the bit for the first time, and resents it keenly. It looks thrilling to see film humpedup, with his ilegs far apart and a look' of eternal defiance in his eyes. It is even1' graceful when 'Remington does the picture, but dont, for a moment, de lude yqurself with the "Idea that it Is pleasant to be on his back at such a time. A Tame Comparison. A cockle shell of a ship In an"" angry sea affords but a tame comparison with the antics of an untamed mustang. ,If tho ship goes to pieces, you know that the vasty deep will give you burial, but you cannot-figure your eternal resting place, with any degree of certainty, on the back ot a bucking horse. One moment you feel that the" end will come abruptly, with a (broken neck, pal'pless and sudden. Then yjm see the deviltry in tho eye of the beast, and you begin to understand how the missionaries feel when they re ceive their death sentences from the can nibals. -xFor you can see, in your mind's eye, Just where you are going to be bit ten, arid how you will be kicked and broken $0 pieces and then masticated and digested tti - -- - " But let us take a glance at the woman -of whom this article Is written, that a LJaEHBiiEUBig5gew.i mi Pm better understanding may be had of her work. The picture that you ,may have mentally, drawn of a big, brawny Ama- zon, who can let out. a string ot oaths that would discourage and .embarrass a longshoreman, is "altogether wrong. A Woman Cowboy. Picture Instead a rather frail, girlish looking woman, of medium height. not over 5 feet 4 inches, tall. In -pourids she will, perhaps, weigh 135, certainly not more. A modest hesitancy in speech, and an inclination to disavow having- done anything extraordinary; cool, determined ' his accustomed freedom, and bother his grayyesra-Iitneand muscle"dboo"aAmouthtwitWan-"'ab6rnrnablebaVb of steel, face tanned by outdoor life, with here , The girl disdained the time-honored Mex- I and there -a saucy freckle peeping out NOVEMBER 3, 1901, 'from tfie, otherwlso clear, bronzed skin and you hav;c our heroine. . A Mrs. Austen's first experience with a bucking bronco will probably furnish a story with which to regale her grand children, when tlmo whitens her locks and she lives in the memories of pa3t accomplishments, rather than future hopes. Tho vicious brute knew no dis tinction that goes ordinarily with the difference in. the cut of clothes that indi cate the sex. It rated all as among the I common enemy who attempted to restrain lean saddlez- but used tho conventional Eanlnc Gymnastics. In a moment, the woman was in the saddle, and a firm hand was holding the reins. Rearing, kicking, plunging, the animal galloped about the big lnclosure. He tried every artifice known to the equine mind, in an effort to dislodge the rider. Despite the jolting and tho pre carlousness of her seat, the girl held on, determined and persistent. The white flakes of foam stood out on the horse's shaggy sides, and he panted and struggled for breath. He abhorred the saddle, the girth, and, above all, the bit, and he showed unmistakably his keen displeasure. But his protests were of no avail. The plunging and rearing became less vigorous, and there wa3 an evident desire to sulk, but the girl rider would have none of It. Deep Into the animal's sides sho struck with her spurred heeis. A furious bound, and then around and around went the beast. In a last flicker of energy, until exhausted nature refused to assist him further. His humiliation was complete. From the cayuse, with a respect for nothing human, he had come to know a mistress. Pant ing, snorting, yet withal a captive, sub mitting to the determination that had been more than equal to his own, he stood, trembling and conquered, while his rider dismounted. t Brcnlss Horses for. a Living- From that day to this the-horso has not been brought to Mrs. Austen that she could not master, She has broken them for a living, and for her own pleasure, and the enjoyment that other women got out of such mildly exciting happenings as golf and tennis she finds In a rocking, swaying saddle that threatens momentari ly to give way and send her to the ground with velocity sufficient to break her neck, If the beast she Is riding succeeds In Its efforts to dismount her. An Oregonlan photographer happened at the Austen home recently. A particu larly vicious horse had just been sent to Mrs. Austen by the owner for her to in still, if possible, a degree of horse sense Into Its obstinate head. He was a par ticularly determined animal, with no re spect for bit or whip, but bent on having his own way, though It led to the rider's destruction. Slipping on her 'riding habit. Mrs. Austen had the cayuse saddled, and then she proceeded to show him that, with all his deviltry. It was clearly to his In terest to .be good. When she had sub dued his wild temper, she gave him an object lesson In what a woman can do by roping him after the approved ranch fashion and throwing him to the ground. when sho sat 6n one of his foaming sides NO.V44'. A and gave him good advice about behaving In the future. Mrs. Austen has been a typical cow girl, a Diana of the plains. Her dealings with horses have not been all beer and skittles, by any means. At times she has had. to put her ability In the market as a wage-earner, and It has served her well. Not so very long ago she was regu larly employed by a local firm of meat dealers to round up bunches of cattle and drive them to the city. Hard, Rough Work. No child's play is this difficult task. It requires pluck, determination and cour age. Her companions were the roughest- of cowboys, yet she was treated with a deference that could not have been more commendable. If rendered to a queen. In everyday life she was one of them, but. In the thousand and one little ways In which a man can show his respect for the sex, she was reminded that they honored her as a woman, first and above all. For several years Mrs. Austen made a j comfortable Income handling droves of I cattle, bijt now she has settled down to I a humdrum life, In a Portland suburb, . and Intends to devote the remainder of t her career to fancy stunts In the sawdust I ring and to breeding horses on her own. place. During the Carnival her superb horscwomanshlp was one of the most at tractive amusement features offered by the management. Her tandem hurdling' feat and daring rough riding eVoked In enthusiasm that found expression In tu multuous applause and approbation. ROBERT 'TyLER. THE HARVEST-TIME. . I'll picture to thee In the truest rhymo The glories and wealth o the harvest-time, When tho fields are shorn of their fragrant hay By the reapers whd toll through the live-long day. Then the sun shines full over forest, and stream. And the world grows brighter beneath, hU beam : . Then we see. In acrea of waving: Brain, , ' The bread of man and his golden gain. When the Lord his bounteous store, provides From the emerald earth and the silvery tides. While the flowers In blooming garlands twine With the ripening fruit of the tree and vine 'Tls then that all naturd In harmony rings With the fullness of Joy which the harvest brings. How serene the blue of the ocean's breast. When the earth Is crowned with the Summer's crest. And the laden messengers swiftly soar,. By white wings wafted from shore to shore; While the air and wa'tera reflect, resound; ' Where the scenes of myriad life abound, And the shades of twilight vanish soon, In the golden light of the harvest moont It is not the Spring that has passed away. Nor the. Winter, gloomy, sere and gray The one an emblem of verdant youth,. The otheiv of death and age la sooth, What fills our hearts with a love sublime, Is the beauty and wealth of thebarveat'-tlme. ASTORIA, "OR. W. C. BISHOP.