Eastern Shore of Virginia
Philadelphia, Pa., Aug. 3, '06.
It has occurred to me during my many visits to my mother-in-law, Mrs. Geo. H. Thomas, of Stewart's Wharf, that the people who rightly claim that garden spot for their home and who daily enjoy the pleasures of life there, in a matter of fact way, do not fully appreciate the blessing which has fallen on them through the kind agent who declared that they should have that sublime place for their habitation.
I am sure, in fact know, they do not realize how wonderfully beautiful is their country. A place where it seems to me everything -- trees, flowers and air, all the forces of nature combine, in perfect harmony and accord with one mighty effort to prove the omnipotence of Him who created and provided their life-giving refuge.
Even the birds there sing sweeter, or so it seems to me, and I must confess to a soul like mine, who is always starved for lack of beauties which nature keeps locked in her heart, sacred to certain sections of this broad earth, all this means blissful rest.
Each night one can catch from the windows the silvery notes of the birds and vastly enjoy the thought that the little feathered creatures keep this long vigil generously and faithfully, pouring forth his melody for our especial pleasure. Nor is it lost -- for the sweet singers come as a benediction, bringing peace and quiet, and soon lulls our tired mind and body into a restful sleep.
The one thing that must forcibly impress visitors on the dear old Eastern Shore of Virginia, is the kind and gentle and exceedingly hospitable nature they exhibit to all they meet. The cordial and warm welcome which visitors receive there, makes them feel that surely nature is clothing so beautiful their little Eden, and has likewise endowed her people with a truly Christian spirit and boundless love for all mankind. Doubly appreciable is all this to me, going there as I do, a business woman from busy cities, where the song of birds, the bloom and beauty of nature about us, even the very individuality of man is absorbed in the mad whirl of commercialism and its various pursuits, where, like other trade centers perhaps, the tendency of the vast majority is to forge the purpose for which the brain was designed; at any rate they employ this faculty of thought with no higher object than considering the ways and means of securing food.
In the business world we live from day to day in a perfect stampede of rush, which it seems impossible to check, and which causes men to gallop headlong, anywhere and everywhere, before the first red gleam of the devouring element breaks, a living fire through the nerve forces of their bodies, eating on and on, the gnawing flames fanned ever by an ill wind of ambition and greed, until the poor wreck of humanity is left far behind in the race to the goal, while the surging mass rushes onward, swept by the resistless breath of some mighty whirlwind, to their own disaster. How good it is to be able to spread one's wings and rise above the fatiguing and depressing rush of every day life which weigh one to the dust of mental and spiritual abasement; then to suddenly find one's self in a heaven like dear old Northampton. I repeat it is happiness beyond description.
The difference even a few miles can make in the ways and customs is vast indeed. I have traveled quite a little and I am sincere in praising the Virginia peninsula and naming it the garden spot of our state.
I truly wish that every impoverished soul craving for strength, liberty and health could be near enough to catch the renewing spirit which the breezes bring from the beautiful Chesapeake and Atlantic waters. I am always loathe to leave the peaceful place, which I have long since learned to love. But I return to the dusty city stronger, better and more able to cope with the trials which daily assail me, and count myself happy for having been permitted the joy of a visit to the noble parents of my deceased husband, John Baker Thomas.