We parked our little motor home on the lawn of a friend's cottage on Prince Edward Island and spent half of August waiting for summer in Georgia to be over. That was long enough to make numerous day-trips and longer excursions to find out what the islanders are doing right.

Canada's island province, cradled in the North Atlantic, has a lot to teach her fellow North Americans. Heaven knows we have a lot to learn.

From northwesternmost point to easternmost, PEI measures about 170 miles, but only the most callous traveler could cover that distance in a day's drive. Scenery beckons on every side; I don't believe there's a spot on the island more than 15 miles from the sea.

Lighthouses must be examined close up. Farmers' markets complete with young boys sawing their fiddles for pocket-change must be browsed. Antique auctions demand attention, and of course, seafood stands must be savored.

This is a pristine world smaller than Delaware and with only about one-fifth the population. And yet, with about 59 persons per square mile, the province is Canada's most densely populated.

The population density of Georgia is twice that.

PEI's capital, Charlottetown, with about 31,000 people who pronounce it "Sharl-town," is not unlike most U.S. towns of its size. But everywhere else, the views are of seascapes and rolling fields, white-shingled churches, beflowered yards. Homes range from plain-and-simple to ornately gabled Victorian.

Only gradually do you begin to realize that the real beauty of the province lies in what isn't there.

Billboards: There aren't any. Slim road signs bear the names of towns and distances (in kilometers), and others, uniform and province-issued, point the way to Stanley Pottery, Malpeque Bed & Breakfast, Mrs. Profitt's Tea Shop.

Roadside litter: There isn't any. Nowhere on the island are beverages sold in aluminum cans or plastic bottles.

Coca-Cola has not yet bought the soul of this land where drinks come only in returnable glass bottles. The bounty on beverage bottles is split between the returner and the recycling processor. A pay-by-the-bag collection system, for commercial and domestic trash, encourages recycling. Our host said nobody demanded a referendum. Appropriately labeled cans simply arrived in his yard one day, and his next tax bill included the cost.

Fast food stores that still use throw-away utensils offer pairs of receptacles, one for compostibles (food, paper plates and napkins), the other for the small amount of unrecyclable materials used. Uncertain foreigners simply asked the experts lads on skateboards how to sort discards.

Neglected railroad lines: There aren't any. When the trains stopped running, the tracks were pulled up, roadbeds smoothed, and wildflowers allowed to nod along flat trails from one end of the island to the other.

Road rage: Nope. The spirit among PEI drivers is one of cooperation, not competition. Where traffic streams come together, they merge seamlessly, each driver apparently remembering the admonition of his kindergarten teacher: "Take turns."

Obviously, a lot of these refinements work because a low population density equals less pressure. Civility is almost inevitably one of the first casualties of crowded roads.

Still, a society that makes its living fishing and raising potatoes seems disposed to patience. These people are in tune with the rhythm of the seasons. Besides, who wants to waste the fleeting days of a short summer being hostile?

All right, PEI is not perfect. Mosquitoes torment at twilight; houseflies ping on the inside of screens, and their bodies litter the floor of any cottage closed up for more than a few days.

Winter is brutal, beginning well before and extending long after a time frame Southerners consider decent.

But even the bad news is in what's missing.

A once-lush forest so thick early settlers could barely penetrate upland from the beaches: Essentially gone. Trees not cut long ago for home- and boat-building are still falling to the demand for firewood. (See "Winter," above.)

Smooth roads: There aren't many. Miles of road on PEI are still red dirt; paving does not help. (See "Winter," above.) In fact, some of the well-packed dirt roads are actually smoother than the crumbling paved roads. Water seems to run off or through them quickly and even after heavy rain they are soon passable.

Public transportation: None, curiously, unless you count school buses. A lack of public transit is especially puzzling, given that road conditions all winter and during spring thaw make even car-travel prohibitive.

People close up their summer homes cottages, they call them and move into town from early September until May. I'd think sooner or later that merchants in Charlottetown and Summerside would push for buses to bring shoppers into town in the winter.

The new bridge across the Northumberland Strait now makes it possible to drive to PEI, where once only ferries plied the waters. Change is bound to come indeed, old timers say it already has.

But having adopted tough recycling and highway esthetics laws, PEI has shown herself a rare and so-far nearly unspoiled example of how to do things right. Maybe she'll stay the course. That's a goal devoutly to be wished.

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