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 |
---|---|---|---|
82492 | 2020-12-06 13:55:40 | 83.05 | 96% |
80727 | 2020-11-22 20:42:00 | 91.84 | 96% |
79163 | 2020-11-14 22:07:03 | 94.41 | 96% |
76937 | 2020-10-25 21:15:42 | 89.29 | 98% |