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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 57625 | 2020-07-31 03:31:18 | 131.74 | 98% |
| 47577 | 2020-06-09 01:49:29 | 105.27 | 98% |
| 47102 | 2020-06-06 09:42:45 | 118.32 | 97% |
| 46757 | 2020-06-04 22:02:57 | 114.66 | 96% |
| 45002 | 2020-05-25 09:02:28 | 111.88 | 97% |