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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 42642 | 2020-10-22 18:43:45 | 135.60 | 98% |
| 36155 | 2020-07-20 22:31:29 | 117.53 | 98% |
| 35587 | 2020-07-10 18:28:49 | 124.46 | 98% |
| 34524 | 2020-07-02 11:06:34 | 127.21 | 99% |