WHITE MARSH 



OLLOWING the Tidewater Trail from Gloucester 

 Court House for six miles southward over a hard 

 sand and shell road, one's attention is' arrested by 

 an imposing entrance which leads through a cano- 

 pied avenue of such magnificent oaks, that the mid- 

 day sun tapestries the driveway with shadows. 



These monarchs of Nature's own planting guard the approach 

 to White Marsh for half a mile. One is impressed with the 

 majesty of the scene, and the silence unbroken except for the twitter 

 of birds. Here was once the playground of the Red Man, who 

 must have sighed at going, as did Boab-dil looking back once more 

 upon his beloved Alhambra. 



The main entrance, to the left of the lawn, discloses a circular 

 driveway leading to the high-pillared house gleaming white against 

 its background of crepe myrtle and magnolia. 



From the portico, another vista is seen through the lawn of 

 twenty acres, where leafy branches from the Orient lock arms 

 with those of the Occident in a brotherhood of blended beauty. 

 Forty-seven magnolia grandiflora, averaging twelve inches in 

 diameter, lend grandeur, winter and summer, to lawn and gardens. 

 Crepe myrtles, hoary with age, send their naked branches, capped 

 with feathery blossoms of white, lavender and rose, high among 

 the limbs of towering trees. 



The bronze beech is here, the European horse chestnut, scarlet 

 hawthorne, English yew and walnut. The varnish tree, white and 

 black ash, sweet gum, elm, linden, tulip tree, locust, sycamore, and, 

 practically every species of oak, maple, and pine interlace their 

 branches over acres of greensward ! It is marvelous how abundantly 

 the grass grows beneath so dense a shade. 



Trees — majestic trees, everywhere ! 



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