The dormitory was clean and cool and we longed to go to bed, but we were told we must dress and go into the adjoining room where Superintendent Whittaker would see us. Mr. Whittaker brought with him a man whom we afterward learned was a newspaper man. The superintendent informed us that for about an hour we could do as we chose, and pointing to the piano said that we might play and sing. The piano was not unlocked while we were there, but that night no one had a desire to sing. Although Mr. Whittaker’s words were few and not unpleasant, we realized that our presence did not cause him either embarrassment or regret. We were told that one dormitory was given up to colored women; in the other one, the one in which we were to sleep, there would be both colored and white women. We had asked to be allowed to have our toilet things and were told we could not have them until the next morning, that is, we would be permitted to have our combs and toothbrushes then. But we were not permitted to have these until Thursday. One woman told us we must not lend our comb to other prisoners and must not mingle with the colored women.... The days were spent in the sewing-room. We were permitted to talk in low tones, two or three being allowed to sit together. While we were there, the sewing was very light. We turned hems on sheets and pillow slips and sewed on the machine. There were both white and colored women working in the sewing-room. The work was monotonous and our clothing extremely heavy. The great nervous strain came at meal time. All the women ate in one big room. The white women sat at one side. The meal lasted thirty and sometimes forty minutes. The food to us was not palatable, but we all tried to be sensible and eat enough to keep up our strength. The real problem, however, was not the food; it was the enforced silence. We were not allowed to speak in the dining-room, and after a conscientious effort to eat, the silent waiting was curiously unpleasant.... The use of the pencil is forbidden at all times. Each inmate is permitted to write but two letters a month, one to her family and one business letter. All mail received and sent is opened and read by one of the officials. Next to our longing for our own toilet articles was our desire for a pencil and a scrap of paper. Another rule which makes life in the Workhouse more difficult than life in the jail is that the Workhouse prisoners are not permitted to receive any food sent in from outside. We found that the other prisoners were all amazed at the excessive sentences we had received. Old offenders, they told us, received only thirty days. In the _Suffragist_ of August 11, Doris Stevens, who was a member of the same group says: