How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood, when fond recollection presents them to view! The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood, and every loved spot which my infancy knew; the wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it, the bridge and the rock where the cataract fell; the cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it, and e'en the rude bucket that hung in the well. The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, the moss-covered bucket that hung in the well.
Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
---|---|---|---|
5385 | 2020-12-06 16:55:33 | 115.38 | 98% |
3129 | 2020-11-23 22:32:28 | 98.84 | 96% |
2596 | 2020-11-20 16:47:49 | 91.00 | 97% |
1259 | 2020-11-13 16:51:18 | 94.00 | 98% |