I found a little news clipping from the 1930s where L.M. Montgomery writes about PEI.
There is at least one spot left on earth where a little leisure is to be found, and that is Prince Edward Island. People there have not yet forgotten how to live. They don’t tear through life. Every time I, accustomed to the breathless tempo of existence elsewhere, go back to it, I am impressed by this fact.
There is about life in Abegweit a certain innate and underlying serenity that is never wholly absent, even on days when a church tea is in the offing or the hay on the hill must be got in before it rains. They realize that eternity exists – no, we realize it. For I am one of the Islanders still, though I have made my home in another land for a quarter of a century.
You never know what peace is until you walk on the shores or in the fields of Prince Edward Island on a Summer twilight when the dew is falling and the old, old stars are peeping out and the sea keep its nightly tryst with the little land it loves. You find your soul then-you realize that youth is not a vanished thing but something that dwells forever in the heart. And you look around on the dimming landscape of haunted hill and murmuring ocean, of homestead lights and old fields tilled by dead and gone generations, who loved them – and you say, “I have come home.”