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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6524 | 2020-11-27 14:59:48 | 73.70 | 97% |
| 3045 | 2020-08-02 05:55:55 | 66.62 | 96% |