“So this is the bath of evil fame,” I thought, as I put down the bundle of clothes on the floor and pulled the cowshed door after me. For the most part, whatever bit of prison life I had heard about as specially objectionable seemed to me less bad than I had expected, and being prepared I was forearmed to put up with it without grumbling. But the much-abused, dirty bath which had been so often described by our prisoners, surpassed all expectations. The paint was blistered and broken to a surface of mottled unevenness in a way to gather the scum from the water into a thousand crevices every time the bath was used. Whatever the original colour of the paint might have been, it was now of a dull mud colour, sufficiently dirty-looking to arouse every sort of suspicion, but not dark enough to conceal the marks of the scum most recently added to the crevices. A large but well-worn scrubbing brush was the only washing appliance, whether for the purpose of scrubbing the bath or the bather was not stated, probably it was used indiscriminately for both. I had been given a small towel of oatmeal-coloured coarse linen striped with red, and a piece of soap wrapped up in a rag of white flannelette. The water was clean and delightfully hot. I tried to concentrate my mind on these two great merits and to raise a sense of present luxury by remembering that this was the last bath I should be able to indulge in for a week. The soap had a smell of disinfectant like dog soap, clean and hygienic enough, no doubt, but under the circumstances a disagreeable reminder of its anti-verminous properties. The towel, which at first sight seemed ludicrously small and inadequate for the purpose of drying a body so large as mine, disclosed with use an almost miraculous faculty for not absorbing moisture. It left one to dry by dint of friction; my admiration for this towel grew even greater on closer acquaintance with it. Then came the moment for the clothes. They certainly looked a most repellent heap, and it was some time before I recognised their respective uses, and could decide in what order to put them on. I was pleased to see that the flannel garments promised by the doctor were there. Some of my companions, although they asked for and received permission for the same privilege, did not get any flannel clothes until the second week, and some not through the whole term of their imprisonment. Warmth being my first consideration I started off with a low-necked flannel shirt without sleeves. It was patched in many places, the patches being so coarsely joined that one could easily trace their pattern from sensation while wearing it. The flannel was of numerous shades of yellow and grey, stained in many places, and freely marked with the broad arrow stamped on in black ink. The original cut of the shirt had evidently been nondescript. It was very short, reaching barely below the hips and low at the neck, and the patches set in at random had added variety and counter design in many directions. It looked like the production of a maniac. For propaganda purposes it was an absolutely priceless garment and I determined that, if possible, it should accompany me out of prison, for the enlightenment of those critics who are appalled at the leniency of the prison treatment of Suffragettes. Next I put on a chemise of unbleached, coarse cotton, striped with red, fairly high at the neck, but without sleeves. This however, was long to the knees and from its ample voluminous width was one of the most warmth-producing of the garments. A pair of stays made without bones but exceedingly stiff and straight in shape. They had no fastenings and had to be laced up each time; the lace had no metal tag so that it was a slow process. These stays were so unyielding that I found it impossible to tie my petticoats around the sheer precipice of their make, and the very next day I had the courage to dispense with them. Flannel drawers, short like footballing “shorts,” ditto of unbleached cotton. A very short flannel petticoat. An old-fashioned under-petticoat of coarse, linseed-coloured material, thickly pleated into a cotton band at the waist--it stuck out almost like a crinoline. Then came the dress, skirt of dark green serge, pleated in same way as the petticoat and tied with black tape strings, the shirt of same material fastened by a single button at the neck; this was the only garment with long sleeves. A blue check apron which tied in the shirt and gave a very neat appearance. Finally, a small Dutch cap of starched white calico, tied under the chin with tapes.