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 |
---|---|---|---|
12092 | 2020-11-27 05:56:53 | 96.34 | 97% |
11233 | 2020-11-25 03:48:12 | 98.86 | 98% |
10042 | 2020-11-21 11:15:19 | 97.54 | 98% |