I also desire to ask that the Board of Charities would authorize me to make inspections of food furnished to prisoners at Occoquan and at the District Jail, and to have physical and chemical analysis made without expense to the Board, in order to determine more fully the nutritive environment in which the prisoners live. Sincerely, (Signed) HARVEY WILEY. This striking telegram from Richard Bennett, the distinguished actor, must have arrested the attention of the Administration. September 22, 1917. Hon. Newton Baker, Secretary of War, War Department, Washington, D. C. I have been asked to go to France personally, with the film of “Damaged Goods,” as head of a lecture corps to the American army. On reliable authority I am told that American women, because they have dared demand their political freedom, are held in vile conditions in the Government workhouse in Washington; are compelled to paint the negro toilets for eight hours a day; are denied decent food and denied communication with counsel. Why should I work for democracy in Europe when our American women are denied democracy at home? If I am to fight for social hygiene in France, why not begin at Occoquan workhouse? RICHARD BENNETT. Mr. Bennett never received a reply to this message. Charming companionships grew up in prison. Ingenuity at lifting the dull monotony of imprisonment brought to light many talents for camaraderie which amused not only the suffrage prisoners but the “regulars.” Locked in separate cells, as in the District Jail, the suffragists could still communicate by song. The following lively doggerel to the tune of “Captain Kidd” was sung in chorus to the accompaniment of a hair comb. It became a saga. Each day a new verse was added, relating the day’s particular controversy with the prison authorities. We worried Woody-wood, As we stood, as we stood, We worried Woody-wood, As we stood. We worried Woody-wood, And we worried him right good; We worried him right good as we stood. We asked him for the vote, As we stood, as we stood, We asked him for the vote As we stood, We asked him for the vote, But he’d rather write a note, He’d rather write a note—so we stood. We’ll not get out on bail, Go to jail, go to jail— We’ll not get out on bail, We prefer to go to jail, We prefer to go to jail—we’re not frail. We asked them for a brush, For our teeth, for our teeth, We asked them for a brush For our teeth. We asked them for a brush, They said, “There ain’t no rush,” They said, “There ain’t no rush—darn your teeth.” We asked them for some air, As we choked, as we choked, We asked them for some air As we choked. We asked them for some air And they threw us in a lair, They threw us in a lair, so we choked. We asked them for our nightie, As we froze, as we froze, We asked them for our nightie As we froze. We asked them for our nightie, And they looked—hightie-tightie— They looked hightie-tightie—so we froze.