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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 29848 | 2020-11-29 22:46:27 | 83.41 | 95% |
| 24948 | 2020-09-20 23:56:41 | 81.02 | 95% |
| 21398 | 2020-08-18 22:21:35 | 99.42 | 98% |
| 20048 | 2020-07-27 16:52:08 | 74.99 | 96% |