“It is very difficult to give any detailed account of the ruins of this celebrated place,” says Mr. Buckingham. “There is no temple, as at Thebes, at Palmyra, or at Balbec, sufficiently predominant over all other surrounding objects to attract the chief attention, and furnish of itself sufficient matter for description and observation. Here, all is broken and detached fragments, extremely numerous, and each worthy of attention; but so scattered and disjointed, as to give no perfect idea of the whole. Its principal feature is, that it presents an assemblage of tall, slender, and isolated pillars, and separate door-ways and sanctuaries, spread over a large platform, elevated, like a fortification, from the level of the surrounding plain.” “The works of different travellers, describing these ruins,” says Sir William Ouseley, “furnish many instances of extraordinary variation. But this discordance is not peculiar to those, who have written accounts of Persepolis. We find that, concerning the same visible and tangible objects, two, three, and even four, travellers in other countries have disagreed;—all men of considerable ingenuity, and none intending to deceive.” Sir William then refers to a passage in Sir Thomas Herbert’s Travels. “Forasmuch as the remaining figures, or images, are many and different, and so many, as in two days I was there it was impossible I could take the full of what I am assured an expert limner may very well spend twice two months in, ere he can make a fancy draught; for, to say the truth, this is a work much fitter for the pencil than the pen; the rather for that I observe how that travellers, taking a view of some rare piece together, from the variety of their fancy, they usually differ in those observations: so that when they think their notes are exact, they shall pretermit something that a third will light upon.” These observations were made by Sir Thomas among the ruins of the city, of which we now are treating. “Nothing,” says Mr. Fraser, “can be more striking, than the appearance of those ruins on approaching them from the south-west. Placed at the base of a rugged mountain, on a terrace of mason-work that might vie with the structures of Egypt, it overlooks an immense plain, inclosed on all sides by distant but dark cliffs, and watered by the Kour Ab, which once supplied a thousand aqueducts. But the water-courses are dried up; the plain is a morass or a wilderness; for the great city, which once poured its population over the wide expanse of Merdusht, has disappeared, and the grey columns rise in solitary grandeur, to remind us, that mighty deeds were done in the days of old.”