Practice Typing

Oh, immortal infancy, and innocency of the azure. Invisible winged creatures that frolic all round us. Sweet childhood of air and sky. how oblivious were ye of old Ahabs close coiled woe. But so have I seen little Miriam and Martha, laughing eyed elves, heedlessly gambol around their old sire; sporting with the circle of singed locks which grew on the marge of that burnt out crater of his brain.