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Show jHny fyfi WfQ fjzftf)? ffffffMl tfi&9 (ft Tke Romance of b,,tke Butterfly" and "tke Good FellowsHow Tkeir Gay, Faskionatle Life" FVmS Shattered It and tke Self-Imposed pretty, dashing Josoplnne Hooper, also ml T 1 T 1 T s ' SS,:;:,1 Poverty That Has Hade It , . S Barth became known as "the Clood Fellow" V 4 and his wife was called "the Butterfly," in Mj-s. Barth secured her (Jivorce. Barth, dis- X7L J Awn,-t I " ' the Kay, social set that she ruled. inherited and penniless, went to her and told W 41016 jMgaill VV " Then came the inevitable ending of the invo- ., . I , i. In,,, I if,, nf tho emmle Thr Hntterflv hronrrht her that he was going to try to find work, that . I suit for divorce. In her complaint and on the stand she told of fashionable extravagances that seemed unbelievable. She declared that society had made of her husband a drunkard and a rake. She listed what she claimed were his infidelities with the precision and the detail de-tail of an efficient accountant. So definite was she in her revelations of what had' been going on in the circle of which they had been a part that the district attorney was compelled by public clamor to act. There were a score of indictments, which will soon be brought to trial. he was sorry he had not been a better husband, that he wished her luck and said goodby. Mrs. Barth thought over the matter. She still loved her husband and knew that he loved her. He was penniless, and she. was wealthy. Should she "stake" him to a fresh career or let him go? The unusual decision that she made, why she made it and how, voluntarily cut off from every penny of her own money, she is helping her husband and herself recreate re-create a new life and how byloing it she has salvaged her love wreck from the maelstrom, she tells here. By Josephine Hooper-Barth YOU ask me why I, Josephine Barth, whom my friends liked to call the Butterfly, have taken back my husband, the man whom I divorced, and who, I said, was a rake, and spendthrift, and everything else a husband shouldn'd be. And you ask why I, the Butterfly Butter-fly who was, have gone back to this husband into a rooming house, eschewing gowns and jewels and rich friends and the society they stand for? And why I have given up the luxuries luxu-ries of social affluence to cook my husband's meals and darn his hose and make our bed and scrub our floors? And what is a husband? The man I prom- " ised to love, honor and obey. When 1 couldn't honor him I could neither love nor obey him. "When honor returned love and obedience came with it. And with honor and love, and with a new vision of our life, what else could I do but repeat "Whither thou goest I will go, and where thou lodgest I will lodge?" , Allan, my husband, and 1 have 'just gone liaek to first principles. We lived four years in a nightmare. Now we're starting all over again. 1 used to be ashamed of my husband. Now I am proud of my man. And I am happier in being known as a woman who is helping her man make good, than I was when they called me the Butterfly. But you have asked me why? Let me tell you as best I may. Allan had wealth. 1 had plenty. We found two distinct sets. One social saints, whom we entertained because they amused us.' The other social Satans, whom we entertained because be-cause we learned we could successfully amuse them. That was a distinction iu this set Hn4JQ iYik WfQ $)jlffhrff (ffflfifllil tf1&9 fjT rr ; Tke Romance of b,,tke Butterfly,, and "tke Good v-' ' Fellow'-How Tkeir Gay, Faskionatle Life" , F0ofRlnaircAi" Skattered It and tke Self-Imposed ( pretty, dashing Josephine Hooper, also ml TT X K 1 T ' , N Svi;';;eeX,w Poverty Tkat Has Hade It , . S j" Barth became known as "the Clood Fellow" A ? . 1 X and his wife was called "the Butterfly," in Mj-s. Barth secured her divorce. Barth, dis- X7L 1 Aw--! I " ' the Kay, social set that she ruled. inherited and penniless, went to her and told VV 11016 jMgaiH " Then came the inevitable ending of the invo- ' . ' c m lous life of the couple. The Butterfly brought her that he was going to try to find work, that t suit for divorce. In her complaint and on the he was sorry he had not been a better husband, picture of Allan Barth, the Good Fellow, who p-fisy-' . v stand she told of fashionable extravagances that he wished her luck and said goodby. had boasted he could drink all the champagne '"" ' ,i that seemed unbelievable She declared that - Mrs. Barth thought over the matter She at one sitting that the slippers of a whole chorus f , , a J society had made of her husband a drunkard still loved her husband and knew that he loved , . Y ' V - and a rake. She listed what she claimed were her. He was penniless, and she. was wealthy, could hold, earning his living. T , S- $ . his infidelities with the precision and the dc- Should she "stake" him to a fresh career or But after he had gone away I took stock of ( f - - . . tail of an efficient accountant. So definite let him go? The unusual decision that she myself. And of my friends. I asked if I had U ' , ' 1 was she in her revelations of what had' been made, why she made it and how, voluntarily been a good wife. Answer, no. I asked my- I " , a 4 " ' f , going on in the circle of which they had been cut off from every penny of her own money, self if I knew a young married woman in our " v i - t ,3 a part that the district attorney was compelled she is helping her husband and herself re- set who was a good wife the kind of a wife : ' . ' f ' " ' , 't, 1 by public clamor to act. There were a score create a new life and how by .doing. it she has a good man deserves. Answer, no. And I t, ' - , .W of indictments, which will soon be brought to salvaged her love wreck from the maelstrom, asked myself, "Why"? f 4 t " . ' trial. - she tells here. I saw myself hardened; harsh in mind and r C ' ' w J soul. My chief worries were whether my auto- fs" r $ 1 i Ri l n'cfliL'a J-Jnnfar PirtrtU mobiles would stand up in comparison with i ' S' " fff .-, - , By Josephine tlooper-tiartn . sorae other woman,s and whether could gh.e .,- Kj4 V ( f , YOU ask me why I, Josephine Barth, whom Those who have traveled the social trail will some coming entertainment the proper setting f "tUv f ' ' my friends liked to caU the Butterfly, know what I mean. of unconventionalism V'VHv''' ' V ' , , , i , , ... 1 suddenly realized that no woman m society .-, , '-'''V V X, ' ' have taken back my husband, the man whom We were both young. We were not like who gives it her time and makes of it her ' t4 ',; V ." . I divorced, and who, I said, was a rake, and some of those who had not become acquired god can be an honest wife. By that I do not r ' i ( t lj spendthrift, and everything else a husband by society until they were old enough to re- mean she must descend to immorality, or , 1 " - t ' J shouldn'd be. And you ask why I, the Butter- main stable. We were born in it, of 'it, and thefts but that she cannot be what a wife " J,, , 1 fly who was, have gone back to this husband our silver spoons dished out our undoing, ould be ; the other half of a lovmg co-opera- f r J , , 7 , , , . P. . . tive, sentimental but enduring partnership. ? v ' t into a rooming house, eschewing gowns and And we were shams. All fictitious as fic- I decided that if my husband, the Good Fel- V! ! jewels and rich friends and the society they titious as their ideals and emotions. Their low, wanted to make a man of himself, it was ' , ' f ; j stand for? And why I have given up the luxu- charities were a sham; their diversions were my duty, the Butterfly, to help him. V V ' ries of social affluence to cook my husband's trailed in the limelight under false pretenses. I knew he needed the companionship of a - ' V t -y meals and darn his hose and make our bed and Their vows of friendliness were hollow. . When g00d woman, and I, like many another society I ' scrub our floors? the Bishop called and said grace they excused woman whose life is being wrecked upon the I- . g . 1 f And what is a husband? The man I prom- themselves long enough to brace themselves altar of sham, was good at heart. I saw, in -V- "'", ised to love, honor and obey. When 1 couldn't for the ordeal with a cocktail. We simpered his new resolve, and in his new circumstances, , . honor him I could neither love nor obey him. over orphans when society played its chanty the possibility of a home founded upon mutual k ' , When honor returned love and obedience came hobbies, and called them dirty little brats while love and self-respect and trust and hope. ' I ?J , with it. And with honor and love, and with we danced till dawn in celebration of the day's I went to him; went with him into his exile. , f"A; ' . " SV a new vision of our life, what else could I do good works. I left friends, money and society behind. The t ' ' , but repeat "Whither thou goest I will go, and For four years my husband and I drifted; first had never helped us; rather, they had V' 1 where thou lodgest I will lodge?" , drifted just as thousands of other young so- dragged us down. The second had brought us r 1 ' ' I, . I , Allan, my husband, and 1 have -just gone ciety people have drifted. Then we came to only discord. The last has no place in the " , A f liack to first principles. We lived four years the social whirlpool where to stay together scheme of life that is based upon self-respect. : '' 0 ' k ''h in a nightmare. Now we're starting all over meant to sink together. We went into a little set of rooms, furnished , I s again. 1 used to be ashamed of my husband. Allan capped the climax. His goodfellow- for light housekeeping. I actually gloried in " Now I am proud of my man. And I am happier ship became meat for scandal. I blamed him the dust I saw in the corners. I foresaw new ' , T'ji " in being known as a woman who is helping her then, and said the meanest things I could in happiness in making that dust fly for my man. I ' , ' i "'!',, t"' A man make good, than I was when they called my divorce suit. I think the most hallowed feeling that I shall f , s J ' , . i ' ? V l me the Butterfly. But I builded better than I knew. My reve- ever experience came to me that first morning F . ' . '' '- But you have asked me why? Let me tell lations in my divorce complaint shocked a city, when Allah, without a penny in his pocket, " ' ' ' ' ' & ' you as best I may. It exposed some of the social mire that brought went out after the breakfast I had cooked, to f ' A "f r,""' "J Allan had wealth. 1 had plenty. We found the common public close up to some truths they look for a job. Not a position, or a loan, or a i ! , - . - ' ' J h ' two distinct sets. One social saints, whom we had seen before only sugar coated. connection but a job. I cried as I asked him J ; entertained because they amused us.' The And then, one exciting morning, I learned "if he'd be home early." It was such a won- ,f ' t other social Satans, whom we entertained be- that my husband had been disowned by his derful sensation. "Would he come home early 't ' V , ' " l',' cause we learned we could successfully amuse parents; east out of their wealth and, in im- to me, his wife, who would be waiting for ' . " ' A ' ' them. That w-as a distinction iu this set. mediate consequence, deserted by his society him"? f v J ; t .ji .SSSP . friends. I steeled myself agauist the reflected I cook our meals and clean the rooms we I ' ' I ' ' ' ' ,s-ktWt ' tifixfym embarrassment of his whimpering. But he have dignified by calling our flat. I feel that $ ' ' v ' t t , (f -uV5ST- didn't whimper. He only grinned. I am doing my duty and it is good to feel f ? ? W ' 1 v! p. The Our society friends made bets as to what that, at last, I have a duty to perform. We f -,.-'' ' '"V', ' 'f't' f ?.-:-.rA "Good Allan would do. Some went to him to give are sweethearts such sweethearts as we never ' J ' ".n'v n ! iof.-?t:l Fellow," him their sympathy before they turned the were before. Societv, I realize now, robs every f - " j ; ' ' . " .km-. Allan cold shoulder to him, and then came to fawn voung girl of her greatest privilege the priv- , . I . . i f t " n , i, f ( , ;9i 44-A5.-.- J.z?ji Barth. on me and tell me I was being revenged. One liege of being a really and truly sweetheart. K ' , , J I V " f 9 ?'f j i. . ; ifcl morning Allan himself came to see me, in my I will not accept a dollar of my money the fc it, 1 . ....v !-. separate home. He didn't whine, nor ask me money that used to be my pride, for anything t ,, .' ' ,.j'''V . ''"" ' . : a, :.sf to help him, either with money, love, sympathy in the world. I look upon it still as poison. The ' " e V4 ' " rtf;V.-.-. or even kindness. He just said he d been divorce suit has been forgotten. We are work- f ' " ' . A , , i ' thinking things over, and making an appraisal mg out our salvation, and the woman across J i . - . v - , I -v..i-.....w-- of society in general, and he guessed he'd give the hall, whom I meet when I run out to the t., ' 't' C " ' ,W , ; C, : s f;:. ,x it up, go away, get a common job and make grocery, is a better friend of mine, I know, I' ' ) ( ' " ' I ; j " W s'xSsiij.pw his own living. than any one of the men and women whom we I ' 7' ' " V "' " ' -V ' r" y-fl .! f5 iSAS'Kssii'ifm. It struck me as funny that morning, and once distinguished by accepting into the inner JT 5f 1 V i VV s. I believe I laughed m his face at the mental shrine of "our set." J , - V . - "Jr ! " ' i 4 "V -f-s , , jf rt" ' J: - a - t5" x k , r- . , . Hi -il t;,JL v ; . ( ;i lU ' O. . i'i':-.:ci rr.1. :.:...--' ' ' ''". u ? f ,r- i "v . h . - t , Ik. ' ' N - " r' 1 - . 4 1 ! -1 ' i - v ' ' - Those who have traveled the social trail will know what I mean. We were both young. We were not like some of those who had not become acquired by society until they were old enough to remain re-main stable. We were born in it, of 'it, and our silver spoons dished out our undoing. And we were shams. All fictitious as fictitious fic-titious as their ideals and emotions. Their charities were a sham ; their diversions were trailed in the limelight under false pretenses. Their vows of friendliness were hollow. . When the Bishop called and said grace they excused themselves long enough to brace themselves for the ordeal with a cocktail. We simpered over orphans when society played its chanty hobbies, and called them dirty little brats while we danced till dawn in celebration of the day's good works. For four years my husband and I drifted; drifted just as thousands of other young society so-ciety people have drifted. Then we came to the social whirlpool where to stay together meant to sink together. Allan capped the climax. His goodfellow-ship goodfellow-ship became meat for scandal. I blamed him then, and said the meanest things I could in my divorce suit. But I builded better than I knew. My revelations reve-lations in my divorce complaint shocked a city. It exposed some of the social mire that brought the common public close up to some truths they had seen before only sugar coated. And then, one exciting morning, I learned that my husband had been disowned by his parents; east out of their wealth and, in immediate im-mediate consequence, deserted by his society friends. I steeled m3'self against the reflected embarrassment of his whimpering. But he didn't whimper. He only grinned. Our society friends made bets as to what Allan would do. Some went to him to give him their sympathjr before they turned the cold shoulder to him, and then came to fawn on me and tell me I was being revenged. One morning Allan himself came to see me, m my separate home. He didn't whine, nor ask me to help him, either with money, love, sympathy or even kindness. He just said he d been thinking things over, and making an appraisal 'f fiociety m general, and he guessed he'd give it up, go away, get a common job and make his own living. It struck me as funny that morning, and sA.. I believe 'I laughed m his face at the mental picture of Allan Barth, the Good Fellow, who had boasted he could drink all the champagne at one sitting that the slippers of a whole chorus could hold, earning his living. But after he had gone away I took stock of myself. And of my friends. I asked if I had been a good wife. Answer, no. I asked myself my-self if I knew a young married woman in our set who was a good wife the kind of a wife a good man deserves. Answer, no. And I asked myself, "Why"? I saw myself hardened ; harsh in mind and soul. My chief worries were whether my automobiles auto-mobiles would stand up in comparison with some other woman's, and whether I could give some coming entertainment the proper setting of unconventionalism. I suddenly realized that no woman in society who gives it her time and makes of it her god can be an honest wife. By that I do not mean she must descend to immorality, or thefts, but that she cannot be what a wife should be ; the other half of a loving, co-operative, sentimental but enduring partnership. I decided that if my husband, the Good Fellow, Fel-low, wanted to make a man of himself, it was my duty, the Butterfly, to help him. I knew he needed the companionship of a good woman, and I, like many another society woman whose life is being wrecked upon the altar of sham, was good at heart. I saw, in his new resolve, and in his new circumstances, the possibility of a home founded upon mutual love and self-respect and trust and hope. I went to him ; went with him into his exile. I left friends, money and society behind. The first had never helped us; rather, they had dragged us down. The second had brought us only discord. The last has no place in the scheme of life that is based upon self-respect. We went into a little set of rooms, furnished for light housekeeping. I actually gloried in the dust I saw in the corners. I foresaw new happiness in making that dust fly for my man. I think the most hallowed feeling that I shall ever experience came to me that first morning when Allah, without a penny in his pocket, went out after the breakfast I had cooked, to look for a job. Not a position, or a loan, or a connection but a job. I cried as I asked him "if he'd be home early." It was such a wonderful won-derful sensation. "Would he come home early to me, his wife, who would be waiting for him"? I cook our meals and clean the rooms we have dignified by calling our flat. I feel that I am doing my duty and it is good to feel that, at last, I have a duty to perform. We are sweethearts such sweethearts as we never were before. Societv, I realize now, robs every voung girl of her greatest privilege the privilege priv-ilege of being a really and truly sweetheart. I will not accept a dollar of my money the money that used to be my pride, for anything in the world. I look upon it still as poison. The divorce suit has been forgotten. We are working work-ing out our salvation, and the woman across the hall, whom I meet when I run out to the grocery, is a better friend of mine, I know, than any one of the men and women whom we Once distinguished by accepting into the inner shrine of "our set." The Rich Home of the Earths in Denver, Colorado, in the Days of Their Frivolity and Eeside It the Humble Little House in Pueblo Showing The Butterfly Mrs. Allan Barth, Who Has Cut Herself Off from Her Wealth to Make "a Real Man the Front Window of the Little Upstairs Flat Where Mrs. Barth Does All the Housework in Her Odd and Successful Plan of Regeneration! and Woman" of Herself and Her Husband. Copyright, 1917, by the Star Company. Great Britain Rights Reserved. I |
