Deslandes imagined, that these columns never supported a roof, but idols: on which Porter says, “I am not aware of a precedent in any idolatrous country, for such a wilderness of gods as we should have found assembled here in effigy; and, least of all, could we expect to find such extravagant proofs of polytheism in a palace, that appears to have owed its origin to the immediate ancestors of Cyrus, the simple worshippers of Mithra, or the sun; and the proudest decorations of which may be dated from Darius, the follower of the philosophic Zoroaster, whose image, the god of his idolatry, is nothing grosser than the element of fire. To suppose these pillars to have been the supports of commemorating statues to the honour of the heroes of Persia, seems equally untenable; for it is not in absolute monarchies, as in republics, or in commonwealths, where kings form only one great member of the body politic, that the eminent warriors and worthies of the land have such monuments erected to them. In Persia we find the bas-reliefs of its kings and their attendants on the walls of its palaces; in Rome we find the statues of Brutus, and Cato, and Cicero, under the ruins of the forum.” In regard to the magnificent colonnade, which occupies the terrace, “the imagination,” says Mr. Fraser, “cannot picture a sight more imposing than those vast, solitary, mutilated pillars, which, founded in an age beyond the reach of tradition, have witnessed the lapse of countless generations, and seen dynasties and empires rise, flourish, and decay, while they still rear their grey heads unchanged.” “On ascending the platform, on which the palace of Chehelminar once stood,” says Porter, “nothing can be more striking than the view of its ruins: so vast and magnificent, so fallen, mutilated and silent; the court of Cyrus, and the scene of his bounties; the pavilion of Alexander’s triumph, and, alas! the awful memorial of the wantonness of his power. But every object, when I saw it, was beautiful as desolate; amidst the pleasing memories of the past, awakening poignant regret, that such noble works of ingenuity should be left to the desert alone; that the pile of indefatigable labour should be destined, from the vicissitudes of revolution, and the caprice, ignorance, or fanaticism of succeeding times, to be left in total neglect; or, when noticed, doomed to the predatory mallet, and every other attack of unreflecting destruction.” One of the most remarkable features of these ruins are the beds of aqueducts which are cut into the solid rock. The great aqueduct is discovered among a confused heap of stones, almost adjoining to the ruined staircase. In some places it is so narrow, that a man is obliged to crawl through; in others it enlarges, so that he can stand upright in it.