Why
this crumbling stalactite is called the Pine Apple Bush, I cannot
divine. It stands however in a charming, secluded spot, inviting to
repose; and we luxuriated in inhaling the all-inspiring air, while
reclining on the clean, soft and dry salt petre earth.
All lovers of romantic scenery ought to visit this avenue, and all
dyspeptic hypochondriacs and love-sick despondents should do likewise,
for there is something wonderfully exhilarating in the air of Pensico.
Our friend B. remarked while rolling on the salt petre earth at the
Pine Apple Bush, that he felt "especially happy," and whether from
sympathy, air or what not, we all partook of the same feeling. The
guide seeing the position of our fat friend, and hearing his remark,
said, laughing most immoderately, "these sort of feelings would come
over one, now and then in the Cave, but wait till you get in the
Winding Way and see how you feel then."
Having descended into the avenue we had left, we passed a number of
stalactites and stalagmites, bearing a remarkable resemblance to
coral, and a hundred or more paces beyond, arrived at a recess on the
left, lined with innumerable crystals of dog-tooth spar, shining most
brilliantly, called Angelica's Grotto. One would think it almost
sacrilege to deface a spot like this; yet, did a Clergyman (the back
of the guide being turned,) deliberately demolish a number of
beautiful crystals to inscribe the initials of his name.
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