Now we plunged into a deep shade with the boughs lacing each other overhead, and crossed dainty, rustic bridges over the cold trout-streams, the boards giving back the clatter of our horses' feet: or anon we shot into a clearing, with a colored glimpse of the lake and its curving shore far below us.

“Don't take this the wrong way, Archie,” Arla begins, “but what the ef are you talking about?”

Make sure your dog has a collar holding an identification tag.

I am a shipper, and yes, I prefer to read MSR.