Tune (Scotch): “Charlie Is My Darling.” Shout the Revolution Of Women, of Women, Shout the Revolution Of Liberty. Rise, glorious women of the earth, The voiceless and the free, United strength assures the birth Of True Democracy. Invincible our army, Forward, forward, Strong in faith we’re marching To Victory. Shout the Revolution Of Women, of Women, Shout the Revolution Of Liberty. Men’s revolutions born in blood But ours conceived in peace We hold a banner for a sword, ’Til all oppression cease, Prison, death defying, Onward, onward, Triumphant daughters marching To Victory. The preceding two chapters have been concerned mainly with the treatment of the pickets at the hands of the law. We now approach a much graver matter—their treatment at the hands of the prison authorities. This chapter describes what is one of the most disgraceful episodes in the history of the United States. It is futile to argue that what happened in the District Jail and at Occoquan Workhouse, and later at the abandoned Workhouse, was unknown to the Administration. The Suffragists, indeed, published it to the entire country. That the treatment to which the pickets were subjected was the result of orders from above is almost demonstrable. It must be remembered that the officials who are responsible for what happened to the pickets—the three Commissioners who govern the District of Columbia, the police court judges, the Chief of Police, the warden of the jail, the superintendent of Occoquan Workhouse, are directly or indirectly answerable to the President. * * * * * When the first pickets came out of prison (arrested on June 27, 1917), their spirit was that of women who have willingly gone to jail for a cause—and was in consequence entirely without self-pity. In a speech at a breakfast tendered them in the garden at Headquarters, Mabel Vernon sounded this note: _I_ do not want any one here to think we have been martyrs because of this jail experience we have had. There was no great hardship connected with it. It was a very simple thing to do—to be imprisoned for three days, really two nights and a day. Do not think we have gone through any great sacrifices. But I do not feel patient about this experience. I do not want to go back to jail, and I do not want others to go, _because it should not be necessary_.