A door bell intercom garde

Monday, April 15, 2013

Had dropped asleep over their trenchers from fatigue; the Druses had retired from the haunted precincts to their village and I went out into the garden to smoke our pipes by Door Phone lonely tomb. About midnight we fell asleep upon the ground, wrapped in our capotes, and dreamed of ladies and tombs and prophets till the neighing of our horses announced the dawn.

 

After a hurried breakfast on fragments of the last night's repast we strolled out over the extensive gardens. Here many a broken arbour and trellis, bending under masses of jasmine and honeysuckle, show the care and taste that were once lavished on this wild but beautiful hermitage: a door bell intercom garden-house, surrounded by an enclosure of roses run wild, lies in the midst of a grove of myrtle and bay trees. This was Door Phone favourite resort during her lifetime within its silent enclosure, After life's fitful fever she sleeps well.

 

The hand of ruin has dealt very sparingly with all these interesting relics; the Door Bell power by day, and the fear of spirits by night, keep off marauders; and though we made free with broken benches and fallen doorposts for fuel, we reverently abstained from displacing anything in the establishment except a few roses, which there was no living thing but bees and nightingales to regret. It was one of the most striking video door intercom  

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