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The Jane Austen Series: Northanger Abbey LbNA #4592

Owner:Clueless
Plant date:Jun 9, 2003
Location:
City:???
County:Bucks
State:Pennsylvania
Boxes:1
Found by: ???
Last found:Jan 16, 2010
Status:FFFFF
Last edited:Jun 9, 2003
Replanted 4-22-07. Much improved stamp!

The Jane Austen Series: Northanger Abbey
Allow 45 minutes.
For background on this series see the letterbox entitled “The Jane Austen Series: Jane Austen”. This story contains some serious "borrowing" of words right from Jane's book. Beware the mosquitoes!!

No one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy would have supposed her born to be a heroine. Her situation in life, the character of her father and mother, her own person and disposition, were all equally against her. Those few knowing she had a letterbox in her honor, however, knew she was destined for greatness.

At the tender age of 17, Catherine met Jim Thorpe – could this be her hero? Mr. Thorpe invited Catherine to visit Blaise Castle, he knowing full well the story of the castle, she not. [Editor's note: You may be intrigued to know that you can find a Blaise Castle in the very same town in Bucks County as it may be found in England.]

Mr. Thorpe handed Catherine into the gig, and they were soon off, Mr. Thorpe explaining that the smooth ride was due to the peculiarly judicious manner in which he held the reins, and the singular discernment and dexterity with which he directed the whip. Catherine observed it more owing to the nature of the horse, but thought it best to keep her comments to herself. As they drove along Mr. Thorpe chattered on, and before long Catherine had learned that his equipage was altogether the most complete of its kind in Bucks, his carriage the neatest, his horse the best goer, and himself the best coachman. As Catherine knew little of these things, there was not much to do but not-so-whole-heartedly agree.

They soon came upon a park entrance. “Well, Miss Morland, shall you prefer a drive through the Woods,” he asked, gesturing up ahead to the left side of the lane, “or a drive by the Lake?” as he gestured to the right.

Catherine was taken aback at being consulted, as she did not know the way to the castle. “Perhaps we should inquire at the Nature Center for directions,” she suggested innocently. But Mr. Thorpe scoffed at such a notion. “I don’t need to ask for directions! I’m not lost!” he sneered, and he snapped the reins to the right.

They entered the park, heading straight towards the woods. Catherine exclaimed, “Oh, do stop! I should like to explore the Butterfly Garden!” But Mr. Thorpe pretended not to notice, and he cracked his whip on the horse; the gig lurched forward, and Catherine could only look back over her right shoulder as the garden fell behind and they entered the woods.

Soon the horse slowed to a walk, and for once Mr. Thorpe ceased to rattle on, perhaps pondering the poor impression he had just made on Catherine, for she sat silently with a frown on her face. But that faded fast as she realized with delight the volume and variety of birds she could hear chirping away from every direction.

“Be careful of that rock!” Catherine exclaimed, pointing ahead. Mr. Thorpe assured her again of his superior horseman skills, but she thought he waited rather long before steering the horse to the right.

They could see an intersection ahead; Mr. Thorpe whipped his horse again, jerking the reins to the left. They took the turn with such speed that Catherine had to hold on to her seat with both hands; if not for the ribbons holding her bonnet securely in place, she thought she surely would have lost it!

They rode on for a bit in silence (and ignoring a side trail on the left) before coming to a sudden stop at a wooden footbridge. “Are we at the castle?” inquired Catherine, her eyes peering every which way to discern something through the trees. “I don’t see anything! Where is it?”

“It’s not far now,” Mr. Thorpe replied. “You’ll have to get out and walk a little. I hope those white slippers of yours are tougher than they look. Be careful on this wooden path; it’s slippery after rain.”

It dawned on Catherine that time with Mr. Thorpe was not exactly pleasantly spent. She did not like his attitude or his tone. But as a lover of Gothic romances, the prospect of a castle – a real, genuine castle, he had assured her – spurred her on and boosted her spirits. So they crossed the footbridge, she holding up her muslin gown to prevent the edges from muddying, he forging ahead without a care to the dirt of the world at all.

After crossing the bridge they turned to the trail on the right, and followed it along while Mr. Thorpe educated Catherine to the names of the trees they passed and the birds they were hearing. After a while, Catherine concluded he had called the same type of tree by three different names, but she thought better of pointing that out.

Immediately after crossing a short footbridge aside some downed trees, Mr. Thorpe suddenly fell to the ground at a grouping of three trees. He cried out, "We’ve found the castle!”

Catherine looked on anxiously, feeling rather suspicious, as it seemed to her that a castle should certainly be visible by now. She peered over his shoulder as he reached inside a natural cubbyhole, inside of which, he proclaimed, was Blaise Castle.

“Well, what do you think?” asked Mr. Thorpe as he threw back his head and let out a hearty laugh.

“It’s not at all what I expected,” she said quietly.

“Just like the one in England!” he replied with evident glee.

Catherine, however, was not at all amused. By now she thought Mr. Thorpe completely disagreeable, and was eager to return home. They continued on the trail, passing a sign, which Catherine now wryly noted, contained no mention of a castle. Turning left at an intersection, the completed the loop and returned to their gig.

Catherine silently resolved to believe not another word Mr. Thorpe spoke. It was clear: Mr. Thorpe was decidedly not her hero.