. Rambles in colonial byways . the same soil,—a populationcomposed, now as of old, of three classes,—the gentleman born, the plain people,*and the negroes. Each class, save in ex-ceptional cases, marries strictly within itsown limits; and half a dozen surnames willfrequently include nearly the whole gentryof a county, the appellations of present-daybride and bridegroom tallying exactly withthose on the century-old tombstones of theircommon ancestors. Again, for the upperclasses there is still but one church, the An-glican. They have listened in the same seatsto the same service for generations
. Rambles in colonial byways . the same soil,—a populationcomposed, now as of old, of three classes,—the gentleman born, the plain people,*and the negroes. Each class, save in ex-ceptional cases, marries strictly within itsown limits; and half a dozen surnames willfrequently include nearly the whole gentryof a county, the appellations of present-daybride and bridegroom tallying exactly withthose on the century-old tombstones of theircommon ancestors. Again, for the upperclasses there is still but one church, the An-glican. They have listened in the same seatsto the same service for generations, and,more often than not, they take the commun-ion service from a chalice that was new inthe days of the Restoration. Some of themcan show ancestral souvenirs of the MartyrKing. Easter and Whitsuntide remain uni-versally recognized holidays, and antique ob-servances still cluster around the minor fes-tivals. Thus, freedom from change hasmade the Eastern Shore a land of serenityand dignity; but its confines are too nar-i8. RAMBLES IN COLONIAL BYWAYS row for youthful enterprises. It has no im-perial possibilities, and must ever be a nook. Proof of many of these things was beforeus as we drove to and from Arlington, and alittle later set out from Eastville for a fur-ther exploration of the Eastern Shore. Ourdestination was the island of Chincoteague,on the Atlantic side of the peninsula, andthe road led through the hamlet of Anan-cock and the sound of the same name, thelatter a loop or skein of salt coves wideningup between green mounds and golden bluffs,and terminating at an exquisite landing,where several creeks pour into the cove fromthe estates of well-to-do planters. Drum-mondtown, the county-seat of Accomac, wasalso passed on the way. Three miles be-yond we halted for a half-hours rest atMount Custis, a roomy, rambling old housestanding close to the shores of a creek, which,as its name indicates, once belonged to themasters of Arlington, and in the late after-noon found
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectatlanti, bookyear1906
