On a quiet sultry day, when all nature except the sun seemed to be taking a rest and when nothing but the bugle call for dinner could prove that a spark of life remained in the barracks, the announcement that mail had arrived would transform that peaceful quiet building into an Eastern bazar, with all of its accessions. At the mention of that word the stolid sentry, pacing his beat with languid steps, instantly quickened into life; the motionless somnolent forms lying on the canvas cots sprang from their recumbent positions, strangely wide awake; the groups of men engaged in a social game of cards, instantly scattered for that new field of interest. The First Sergeant's office became a scene of the greatest activity. An eager, excited crowd gathered around; cheeks and noses were pressed against the iron grating, while the ear listened intently for familiar names. Happy was he who received a goodly supply. [Illustration: "OLD GUARD FATIGUE" AT THE CUARTEL.] There were those who turned away crestfallen and disappointed, there were others who remained behind and hungrily eyed their more fortunate comrades, as they knew they had no loved ones to write to them. When the mail had been distributed the barracks again relapsed into silence, but it was a wide awake silence, not a sultry, oppressive one. Then was reading of letters which told of love and friendship and hope; then were familiar scenes brought before the imagination to renew acquaintances which had begun to grow dim; then were sighs heard for dear home and mother. Newspapers and magazines were not unpopular. The letters read, then the papers were devoured. Long articles, short articles, advertisements and pictures were consumed with equal eagerness, and when every visible portion had been absorbed they were held up to the light to see if they contained anything on the inside. Such was mail day in Manila, and the story proceeds. In the early days of barrack life, men talked of returning home to celebrate Thanksgiving, but after October had begun to decline it became evident that these fond hopes were not to be realized. Then the inventive Yankee proceeded to devise means to give thanks in the good old fashioned way in spite of climate and strange country. The Luzon turkey in all respects does not compare favorably with his American cousin, yet he is "turkey," and that goes a great way when it comes to celebrating Thanksgiving.