A cowgirl of fourteen was in many respects the greatest attraction at the Roosevelt "Rough Rider" reunion at Oklahoma. Her name is Lucille Mulhall. At the exposition of frontier life that formed part of the festival she gave an exhibition of her prowess.

Little Miss Mulhall, who weighs only ninety pounds, can break a bronco, lasso and brand a steer and shoot a coyote at 500 yards. She can also play Chopin, quote Browning, construe "Virgil" and make mayannaise dressing. She is a little ashed of these latter accomplishments, which are a concession to the civilized prejudices of her mother.

Mrs. Mulhall has two famous daughters, and although she is intensely proud of them, she shrinks from the attention they attract. Miss Agnes Mulhall's adventures suggested to Hoyt the plot of "A Texas Steer," and her own figure may be recognized in the heroine of the play.

Her little sister won renown by killing a lobo wolf, and last fall took premiums for lassooing wild steers against competitors from every part of the cowboy country from Canada to Mexico. At the rough riders' reunion Miss Lucille matched her skill and courage against the world of cow-punchers and she covered herself with glory. She has spent one term at a convent in St. Louis, but she was homesick for the plains and glad to mount a fiery cow with a lariat coiled at the pommel. And the cowboys welcomed her as if she had been one of themselves. Mrs. Mulhall smiled even as she sighed. All the territory was talking about the approaching rough riders' reunion. Delegations came to invite Lucille to give an exhibition of her frontier accomplishments and enter the competitions. Mrs. Mulhall consented to her daughter's appearance for this occasion only. Lucille, overjoyed, went into training and was delighted to find that her term in the scholarly shades of the convent had not lessened her skill with lariat and rifle.

In the fall she will return to the convent, and in the course of time, if her mother's hopes be fulfilled, she will be too dignified a young lady to engage in any more boisterous diversions than a cotillon. But she will never forget the proud moment when, flushed with victory, she was presented to Governor Roosevelt, who bowed to her ceremoniously and told her that not a rough rider in his famous troop could have done better than she. The Mulhall ranch is on Beaver creek, fifty miles from Oklahoma City. Its owners are a southern family, and have imported with them into the solitudes most of the refinements of civilization. In the drawing room of the homestead is a baby grand piano, on which the mother and daughters play classical music. They are environed with books and periodicals, and their conversation shows that exile on the prarie does not prevent them from taking a lively interest in the thought and culture of the day. Mr. Zack Mulhall, the father of the family, is the general live stock agent of the St. Louis & San Francisco railroad, but the ranch is his own and little Lucille is his mainstay in its management. In earlier years it was her privilege to claim every yearly calf that she had without assistance roped and branded with her initials, "L. M." This system worked very well for a time, but Lucille's ambition increased with her skill and her private herd kept pace with both. The climax came when, during a short absence of her father, she roped and branded twenty of the finest and wildest steers on the ranch. Wishing to avoid bankruptcy, Mr. Mulhall made haste to repeal the law. Her wolf adventure was one of the most exciting in her career. The lobo wolf is the largest known in Oklahoma. Ernest Seton-Thompson, the hunter and author, has immortalized its ferocity and wisdom. Miss Lucille's antagonist was an unusually fine specimen of the breed. He probably weighed more than she did. For weeks he had been devouring her father's young calves and escaping under cover of night. Miss Lucille organized an expedition of one and took her Winchester along. She found the wolf and shot him through the heart before he had time to spring upon her. His pelt is the hearth-rug in her mamma's drawing room.
New York World.