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 |
---|---|---|---|
273736 | 2020-08-12 10:09:39 | 100.52 | 98% |
271564 | 2020-07-15 09:52:04 | 107.55 | 98% |
270726 | 2020-07-01 09:57:43 | 129.90 | 99% |
269217 | 2020-06-09 10:24:01 | 105.12 | 98% |
268900 | 2020-06-06 09:42:40 | 132.56 | 99% |
268882 | 2020-06-06 09:28:10 | 147.86 | 100% |