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BY BREWSTER & SHARP. The Cherokee Georgian M PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY BY BREWSTER & SHARP. urta « t I dW ' RATES OF SUBSCRIPTION', (POSITIVELY IN ADVANCE.) Single copy, 12 months $1 oO Single copy, 8 months 100 Single copy 6 months 75 Single copy, 4 months 5u ADVERTISING RATES, Space | Im. | 2 in. | 3 hi. | 6 in. | 12 m. l iseh | jftlb | $350 j $4 60 [ S7OO I SIOOO I inc*. | 350 | 500 | 650 i 10 00 | 15 00 i inc’s | 600 | 750 | 10 00 | 14 00 | 2000 >FiKc’s I 650 | 900 1 11 50 j !8 00 | 2500 col, j 1000 | 12 50 | iffQFj 25 00 | 40 00 col. |l2 50~f16 00 |2500|37 50 | 50 00 col. | 15 00 | 25 00 j 35 00 |45 00 | 65 00 t C< I 3O 06T85 00 | 56 00 | 65 OT j 100 00 DIRECTORY- STATE GOVERNMENT. James M. Smith, Governor. N. C. Barnet, Secretary of State. J W. Goldsmith, Comptroller General. John Jones, Treasurer. Joel Bratdiam, Librarian. John T. Brown, Principal Keeper of the Penitentiary. Gustavus J. Orr, State School Commis sioner. J. N. Janes, Commissioner of Agricul ture. Thomas D. Little, State Geologist. JUDICIAL. BLUE RIDGE CIRCUIT. Jfocl B. Knight, Judge. U. D. Phillips, Solicitor General. Time of Holding Court. Uiteßoxee—Fourth Monday in Febru ary, and. first Monday in August. CoßßrrSccond Monday in March and November. Dawson—Third Monday in April and second Mrimlay in September. Fannin —Third Monday in May and Oc tober. Forsyth—First Monday in April and f urth Monday in August. Gtl'ikr —Second Monday in May and October. Lumpkin—Second Monday in April and fl ret Monday in September. Milton—Fourth Monday in March and third Monday in August. PiCKKNß—Fourth Monday in April and Brptcmbcrl Towns—Monday after fourth Monday in May and October. Union —Fourth Monday in May and Oc tober. COUNTY OFFICERS. C. M. McClure, Ordinary. Regular conr first M'mdav ineac.h month. J. W. Hudson, CH* rk Superior Court. M. P. Morris. Sheriff. E. G. Gramling, Deputy Sheriff. John G. Evans. Treasurer. Wm. N. Wilson, Tax Receiver. Joseph G. Dupree, Tax Collector. Wm. W. Hawkins, Surveyor. Win. Ramplcy, Coroner. JUSTICE COURT—CANTON DIS. Joseph E. Hutson, J. P. H. F. Daniel, N. P. H. G. Daniel, L. C TOWN GOVERNMENT. W. A. Teasdev, Mayor. J. W. Hudson, Recorder. James H. Kilby, Jabez GaR, J. M. Htr din, J. M. McAfee, Theodore Turk, Alder- M. ; f ) ’ ‘ t ■*( ■' COUNTY BOARD OF EDUCATION. James 0. Dowda, President. Jarnos W. Hudson, County School Coin xnisrioner. Prof. Jami's U. Vincent, Examiner. Joseph M. McAfee, Allen Keith, Joseph J. Ma ddox, John R. Moore. Meetings quarterly, in the court house. «MROKES TRAVHRRS’ ASSOCIA TION. James O. Dowda, President. M. B. Tucgle, Vice-President. C. M. MoCnurv, Secretary. J. W. Attaway, Treasurer. John D. Attaway, Censor Morum. Prof. James U. Vincent, Association Cor respoßiknU Regular meetings every second Saturday in each month, at 10 a. m. RELIGIOUS. Baptist Church. Canton Ga., time of service fourth Sunday in each mouth. Rev. M. B. Tuggh* Pastor. M. E. Church, time of service, preachers in charge. Rev. W, G. Hanson, first Sunday. Rev. B. E. IJnttwtter, second. Rev. J. M. Hardin, third. MASONIC. Canton Lodok. No. 77, meets first and third Monday nights in each mouth. James A. Stephens, W. M. J'lteph M. Me A Sec, Sccretsiry. Six Rs Lopgk, No. 388, meets first and third Saturdays, 3 p. m. C. M. McClure, W M # O W. Puuuau, Svcn-tary. GOOD TEMPLARS. Canton Lotxue, No. 118, meets every Saturday, 8 P- m. K K. Ledbetter, W, C. T. Jamas W. Hudson, Secretary. GRANGE. Canton Grange No. 835, Canton Ga. Jaber. Ga’t, Master. Joseph M. McAfcv, Secretary. (flu- Qtljcrohcc Ocmijinn. THREE KISSES. I’ve had three kiss s in my life, So swe -t and sacred tn’o me That now, till death-dews rest on them, My lips shall kissless be. One kiss was given in childhood’s hour By one who never gave another ; In life and death I still shall feel That last kisrof my mother. The second burned my lips for years. For years my wild heart reded in b'iss At every memory of the hour When my lips felt love’s first kiss. Tlie last kiss of Vie sacred three Had all the woe which e'er can move The heart of woman —it was pressed Upou the death-lips of my love. When lips have felt the dying kiss, And felt the kiss o£ burning love, And kissed the dead—then nevermore In k sdng should they think to mow. The Course of True Love. A STORY OF THE OLDEN TIME. Now, when the rusty records of the past are being ransacked for re'ics of song and story, in order that these antique gems may embellish the garments of the present, and scive to heighten the pride we naturally feel, as Americans, In the wonderful prog ress of our country since first it took its station among the powers of earth, it may not be inopportune to submit a little his torical sketch of a romance which found room, budded and blossomed in the heart of one of Massachusetts’s earliest govern ors, proving that no matter how full and earnest may be the purpose that inspires the heart and life of the most zealous, the “tiny god” can ever find room to set up his banner, on which is inscribed, in letters of light, • Veni, vrdi, vici.” William Bradford, who became second Governor of Massachusetts, after the mel ancholy death of Governor Carver (who soon slept by the side of his wife and only child), was born in Ansterfield, Yorkshire, England, in March, 1588. His father and another died when he was quite young. He was tenderly cared for by his grand-parents, and subsequently by an uncle. His family was among the yeomanry of England, and very respectable. He was reared to agri culture. When quite young he assnmed the care of Ills own landed estates, and en joyed his occupation in cultivating and beautifying tnem; and, though much of his time lie was busy with his men in the field, he still found opportunity to be quite a student. He became proficient in the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages, and was familiar with German and Fnnch, which he sp»ke fluently. He had em braced the faith of the Puritans, and at seventeen yearsjjf age he was one of the company who made an effort to escape to Holland in search of religious liberty, but was unsuccessful, having been betrayed, and was for a season-confined in prison at Boston, Lincolnshire (from Which the city of Boston received its name). But though religion and other momeflious subjects claimed his attention and seemed to engross all bis mind, there was one, less grave but not less potent, that permeated his whole being, and gave to bis life a halo of bright ness. Love had taken possession of the heart of ybung Bradford ; and often, when he seemed most in his books, the golden curls and soft blue eyes of Alice Carpenter were all he saw. His lands joined her father’s, and they had been play mates and companions in childhood, he be ing but a few years her senior. As time passed rapidly away, and she grew into womanhood, her sunny curls turning to a soft chestnut broWA, she only became to the earnest, honest heart of William Brad ford, more dear and more beautiful; and yet he said nothing to her of the deep and earnest passion which be never forgot, even in his sleep, till one evening in autumn, they had been enjoying a long and pleasant conversation, laming 'ffver the hedge that divided their lands, when Alice told him she was soon to go to London, to reside with a relative. This was a very sad an nouncement to him. The Carpenter family had in former tiim-4 received lite title o£ knjghthood, but (xmiparntivvly poor, and William determined to know his fate, and ask Alice of her haughty old father, hoping his own worth and broad lands might induce the father to accept him as a suitable match for his portionless daughter. But he was mis taken. fie bail never before hhd*oec*sion to fathom the pride of the strange old man. His religious belief alone would have been a sufficient barrier, had there been no other, and he was haughtily dismissed. There was a last sad meeting ot the lovers across the hedge that night, And the moon looked down on two heavy hearts and tearful faces, as they both turned to their homes— the one to wet the pillow with her tears, the fther to tjralk his /oomin bitter repin al-the fate whiab weaied U» be killing on his life in clouds and thick darkness, forgetting tor the time to listen to the still, small voice w&ch whispering, “Dome unto me, all ye that are heavy laden, and I will give you ‘ ▲lice was hurried off to London. and aftlcr a few years was married to Mr. South CANTON, CHEROKEE COUNTY, GA, WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 13, 1875. worth, a man of wealth and honor. Mr. Bradford sought alleviation from his disap pointment in his books and farm, and sub sequently married Dorothy May, a woman of his rai k and persuasion, who proved a genial and faithful companion. After a few years we find them abandoning their pleasant drome, for he was one of the first advocates for the removal of the little band of Puntans to America; and next we see them upon the tempestuous ocean, in the cabin of the Mayflower. After arriving in Cape Cod harbor, Mr. Bradford set out with a small p irty to explore the coast, and on returning, was pained and afflicted to find that during bis absence his wife Doro thy had fallen from the ship and been drowned. He deeply mourned her loss, for she had proven a good wife, and they were mutually attached. He bore this sec ond disappointment of his life with Chris tian fortitude. He had no leisure to sit and brood over his grief, for life with him was now a warfare with cold and hunger 5 for he shared in all that the colony suffered. It is well known to any child of history, how they struggled with disease and savage enemies. Mr. Bradford was now over thirty years of age, a man of rare piety and dignity of manner; and a few months after their ar rival, Governor Carver dying, he was elect ed governor of the colony, a position he ably filled for more than thirty years. And while with fatherly care he tenderly watch ed all the interests of the little colony, there was a blank in his household, and none knew better than himself how he realized the need of woman’s ready sympathy, and he was often annoyed at his own inability to keep his thoughts from wandering across the “deep blue sea.” The love he had cherished for Alice had never died out of his heart. True, it had been sleeping, and while the husband of another had never wished nimself other than he was; but now that they were both free—for Alice, too, was left alone —he often said to him self, “I wonder if she remembers the love of her youth ; and even if she did, would she not think it too great a sacrifice to share his fortunes in the wilderness?” Men are not like women, and wilLWt wait a life-time without knowing their fiite when it can be decided by a single word. So he resolved to write and ask Alice, and in the spring of 1623 the letter was sent across the Atlantic. He faithfully set be fore her all the privations and sacrifices she would be called upon to endure, saying that as an equivalent for this he had only the love of an honest heart to offer her, and requested her, if she thought favorably of his proposal, to take passage in the first ship that would sail for America, as he was too occupied to come over to England for her, fearing the colony might suffer during his absence. Time, always to heavy-footed to the watting, passed slowly to the Governor; but late in August a tiny sail was seen in the distance. It was the ship that con tained so much of interest to many, but none waited with such almost breathless anxiety as did Governor Bradford; for it was to contain Alice or her letter of re fusal. The whole town crowded to the landing, and when the vessel reached the shore many went on board, and the Gov ernor passed from one to another of the new-comers, telling them how welcome they were; but a close observer would have seen that the restless wanderings of his eye were indications that something was unsatisfying. A’As was nowhere to be seen, and he tried to ssy calmly, “It is God’s will, and I will try and be happy without her, there will, at least, be a letter for me.” He turned to ask for one, when be met coming from the cabin a matronly-looking woman. He seemed to have forgotten that, while lime was hastening him to maturity, Alice, too, might be changed; he had al ways kept her in mind as the fair, frail girl of many years ago, and here she was, the beautiful, stately woman. She, too, prob ably, had her surprise, for the two stood looking at each other, when “William !” “Alice !’’ were uttered simultaneously, and the two, so long kept asunder, met, never to be parted by man’s decree again. They were married at once. There was no dis play, but that without which all outward show is but as “sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal,” the joy of two faithful hearts. They lived long and happily together; thirty-four years longer did he prosperously guide the affairs of the colony, and then died, his wife surviving him several years. She was well educated, refined, and much beloved, and did much in assisting her hus band in the improvement of the rising gen eration, and was sincerely lamented when sbe died. It is estimated that the child population, between the age of six and sixteen, in the United States and Territories is about 10,- 888,000, and that about 800,000 teachers are needed to educate this host of future citi zens. Charactkr is the eternal temple that each one begins to rear, but which death only can complete. The finer the archi tecture, the more fit U is for the indwelling 9f angels. Virtue and Intelligence—The Safeguards of Liberty. The Way He Fell. He had a wooden leg, three fingers were gone from his left hand, and be had to use a crutch. In the dusk of the evening he sat down on a dry-goods box on the street corner, and, striking the ground with his crutch, he exclaimed: “Well, old pard, the war’s over ! Gimme your hand —shake hard!” He shook the crutch with hearty good will, and continued: “There’s no more Reb —no more Yank! We’re all Americans, and, standing shoul der to shoulder —South Carolina alongside Massachusetts —we can lick the boots off any nation under the sun.” He waited awhile, and then went on : “Uncle Robert is dead, General Grant wants peace, and they’re melting up swords and bayonets to make cotton-mill machine ry! We’re about through camping out, old pard, and we hain’t sorry—not a bit!” He leaned the crutch against the box, lifted bis wooden leg, and said: “Lost a good leg up at Fredericksburg, when I was under Barksdale, and Burnside thought he could whip old Uncle Robert and Stonewall Jackson together! Good Lord ! but wasn’t it hot that day, when the Yanks laid their pontoons and got up and got for us! And when we got up and got for them, wasn’t it red hot ?” He stopped to ponder forawhile, and his voice was softer when he said : “But I forgive ’em! I took the chances, and lost. I’m reaching out now to shake hands with the Yank who shot me, and I’ll divide my tobacco half and halt with him. It was a big war. Yank and Reb stood right up and showed pluck, but it’s time to forgive and forget.” He cut a chew off his plug, took oft his battered hat and looked at it, and con tinued i “Didn’t we all come of one blood ? Ain’t we the big American nation ? Isn’t this here United States the biggest plantation on the river, and is there a nation in the world that dares knock the chip off our shoulder ?” He put down his leg, looked at his crip pled hand, and soliloquized: “Three fingers gone—hand used up—but I’m satisfied. Folks who go to war expect to feel bullets. We atood up to the Yanks —they stood up to us; it was a fair fout and we got licked. Two fingers ain’t as good as five, but they are good enough to shake hands with. Come up here, you Yanks, and grip me. We raise cotton down here—you raise corn up there —let’s trade.” He lifted bis crutch, struck it down hard, and went on; “Durn a family who’ll fight each other. We’ve got the biggest and bestcountiy that ever laid out doors, and if any foreign des pot throws a club at the American eagle, we’ll shoulder arms and shoot him into the middle of next week.” He sat down and pondered while the shadows grew deeper, and by and by he said: “There’s lots of graves down here—there’s a heap o’ war orphans up North ; I’m crip pled up and half sick, but I’m going to get up and hit the onery cuss who dares say a word ag’in either. We’ve got through fighting—we’re shaking hands now, and durn a man who says a word to interrupt the harmony.” Silent Men. Washington never made a speech. In the zenith of his fame he once attempted it, failed, and gave it up confused and abashed. In framing the Constitution of the United States, the labor was almost wholly performed in committee of the whole, of which George Washington was the chairman; but he made only two speeches during the convention, of a very few words each. The convention, how ever, acknowledged the master spirit, and historians affirm that had it not been for his personal popularity, and the thirty words of his first speech pronouncing it the best that could be united upon, the Constitution would have been ngected by the people, Thomas Jefferson never made a speech. He could not do it. Napoleon, whose executive ability is almost without a parallel, said that his greatest difficulty was in finding men of deeds rather than of words. When asked how he maintained his influence over bis superiors in age and experience when commander-in-chief of the army in Italy, he said “by reserve.” , The greatness of a man is not measured by i the length of his speeches nor their num ber. Yourself. You cannont find a more companionable person than yourself, if proper attention be paid to the individual. Yourself will go with you wherever you like, and come away when you please—approve your jokes, assent to your propositions, and, in short be in every way agreeable, if you only learn and practice the true art cf being on good terms with yourself. This, however, is not so easy as some imagine, who do not often try the experiment. Yourself, when U catches you in company with no other person, is apt to be a severe critic cm your faults and foibles, and when you arc cen sured by yourself, it is generally the sevci est and most intolerable species of reproof. It is on this account that you are afraid iff yourself, and seek any associates, no matter how inferior, whose bold chat may keep yourself from playing the censor. Your self is likewise a jealous friend. If neg lected and slighted it becomes a bore, and to be left, even a short time, “by yourself,” is then regarded as actually a cruel pen ance, as many find when youth, health, or wealth hath departed. How important is it, then, to “know thyself,” to cultivate thy self, to respect thyself, to love thyself warmly but rationally. A sensi le self is the best of guides, for few commit errors but in broad disregard of its admonitions. It tugs continually at the skirts of men to draw them from their cherished vices. It holds up its shadowy finger in warning when you go astray, and it sermonizes sharply on your sins after they have been committed. Our nature is twofold, and its noblest part is the self to which we refer It stands on the alert to check the excess of the animal impulses, and though it becomes weaker in the fulfilment of its task by repeated disappointments, it is rarely so en feebled as to be unable to rise up occasion ally, sheeted and pale, like Richard’s vic tims, to overwhelm the offender with bitter reproaches. Study, therefore, to be on good terms with yourself—it is happiness to be truly pleased with yourself. Wild Oats.—ln all the wide range of accepted maxims, there is none, take it for all in all, more thoroughly abominable than the one as to the sowing of wild oats. Look at it on what side you will, and I will defy you to make anything but a devil’s maxim of it. What a man —be he young, old, or middle-aged—sows, that, and nothing else, shall he reap. The only one thing to do with wild oats is to put them carefully into the hottest part of the fire, and get them burnt to dust, every seed of them. If you sow them, no matter in wha'i. ground, up they will come, with long, tough roots like the couch grass, and luxuriant stalk and leaves, as sure as there is a sun in heaven — a crop which it turns one’s heart cold to think of. The devil, too, whose special crop they are, will see that they thrive, and you, and nobody else, will have to reap them; and no common reaping will get them out of the soil, which must be dug down deep again and again. Well for you if, with all your care, you can make the ground sweet again to your dying day.—[Dr. Arnold. Deepest Well in the World.—At about twenty miles from Berlin is situated the village of Sperneberg, noted for .the deepest well which was ever sunk. Owing to the presence of gypsum in the locality, which is at a moderate distance from the capital, it occurred to the Government authorities in charge of the mines to obtain a supply of ruck salt. With this end in view,, the sinking of a shaft or well sixteen feet in diameter was begun some five years ago, and at a depth of two hundred and eighty feet the salt was reached. The bor ing was continued to a further depth of nine hundred and sixty feet, the diameter of the bore being reduced to about thirteen inches. The operations were subsequently prosecuted, by the aid of stcara, until a depth of four thousand one hundred and ninety-four feet was attained. At this point the boring was discontinued, the borer being still in the salt deposit, which thus exhibits the enormous thickness of three thousand nine hundred and fourteen feet. What is the Sun ? —Professor Rudolph in a 'engthy paper on the sun, says. “He is a molten or white hot mass 856,000 miles in diameter, equaling in bulk 1,260,000 worlds like our own, having a surrounding ocean of gas on fire 50,000 miles deep, tongues of flame darting upward more than 50,000 miles, volcanic forces that hurl into the solar atmosphere luminous matter to the height of 160,000 miles, drawing to itself all the worlds belonging to our family of planets and holding them all in their proper places, attracting with such superior force tlie millions of solid and stray masses that are wandering in tlie fathomless abyss that they rush helplessly toward hire., and fall into his fiery embrace. And thus he continues his sublime and restless march through his mighty orbit, having a period of more than 18,000.000 of years. Wit.—There is a perfect consciousness in every form of wit—using that term in its general sense—that its essence consists in a partial and incomplete view of what ever it touches. It throw? a single ray, separated from the rest, —red, yellow, blue, or uny intermediate shade —upon aic. ob ject ; never white light; that is the prov-■ inee of wisdom. We get beautiful effects from wit, —all the prismatic colors—but never the object as it is in fair daylight ' A pun, which is a kind of wit, is a different and much shallower trick in mental optics; throwing the shadows of two objects ») | that one overlies the other. Poetry uses the rainbow tints for special effects, but al ways keeps its essential object in the purest white light of truth. —[O. W. Hulmes. VOLUME 1.-NUMBER II.; Baptized by Mistake. Some of our colored brethren of the Bap tist persuasion had a baptizing down at creek last Sunday, and the ceremony aU traded a very large crowd of people. Mrs. Pitman’s servant girl was very anxious to . be present, and, as it was not her Sunday out, she slipped away from the house, while the dinner was cooking, and went around ' inker working clothes. Her interest wait so intense that she stood quite near the minister, who was in the water while the ' ceremony proceeded. • After six or seven had been dipped, the minister, filled with ‘ enthusiasm, seized her and pulled her into the water. She resisted, but the minister imagined she was only afraid of the cold* ness of the water, so before she could ex* plain the situation he soused her. Shn • came up spluttering, and exclaimed: *' What you doin’ ? Lemme go, I tail you !” Bui he exerted his strength, and sent her “ker-chuck” below the surface again. She emerged, clawing the air wildly and shout- ' ing: wnt “G’way from here! Don’t you chuck me ' under again, you nigger!” ’ But the minister was inexorable, and be plunged her under a third time and held her there for a minute, so as to let it soak in and do her good. Then she came up and struck for the shore, and, standing the£g, looking like a draggled mermaid cut in ebony, she shook her fist at the aston* • ished parson, and shrieked: “Oh, I'll fix you! I’ll bust the head off o’ you, you or’nary trash! sousin’ me in dal ’ere creek and nearly drownding me, when you knowed well enough all de time dat - I’se Methodist, and bin chrissened by dem * dal’s you betters, and knows mo’ ’bout re ligion dan all de Baptisses dat eber shouted, , you inis’nble black scum! And me got do rheumatiz enough to set me crazy 1 Oh, I’ll see what de law kin do you 1 I’ll hah » you ’rested dis very day, or my name’s not Johanna Johnson, you woolly-headed her- - rin’! You hear me ?” A Patriotic Girl. At the time General Green retreated fore Lord Rawdon from Ninety- six, when he had passed Broad river he was very dd» sirous to send an order to General Sumter, who was on the Watcree, to join him, that - they might attack Rawdon, who had divi ded his force. But the General could find no man in that part of the State who was bold enough to undertake so dangerous a mission. The country to be passed through for many miles was full of bloodthirsty to nes, who, on every occasion that offered, imbrued their hands in the blood of the ‘ whigs. At length Emily Geiger presented ’• herself to General Green, and proposed to act as messenger; and the General, both surprised and delighted, closed with her proposal. He accordingly wrote the letter and delivered it, and at the.same time com municated the contents of it verbally, to be - told to Sumter in case of accident. Emily was young, but as to her person or • adventures on the way we have no further Information, except that she was mounted on horseback upon a side-saddle, and on the second day of her journey she was in tercepted by Lord Rawdon’s scouts. Com ing from the direction of Green’s army, and not being able to tell an untruth without . blushing, Emily was suspected and cod fined to a room; and as the officer in com mand had the modesty not to search her ta the time, he sent for an old tory matron M more fitting for that purpose. Emily was not wanting in expedient, and as soon as the door was closed and the bustle a littte subsided, she ate up the letter, piece by plecu. After & while the matron arrived, and upon searching carefully, nothing was to be found , of a suspicious nature about the prisoner, and she would disclose nothing. Suspioitta being thus allayed, the officer comuumdtotl the scouts suffered Emily to depart whithar she had said she was bound ; but she toe* a rout somewhat circuitous to avoid furltar detention, and soon after struck into Uto road to Sumter's camp, where she arrived iu safety. Emily told her adventure, and delivered Green’s verbal message to Bu» ter, who, in consequence, sc»on after joiund the main army at Orangeburg. -[Nobto, Deeds of American Women. ro A plan of propelling cars, onanibuflet and velocipedes by coiled springs has now for some time been employed in England, and it is said with encouraging result*. Tta motor is an arrangement of powerful sprinff incased in cylinders, like watch springs oa a large scale. The skill of French tnaohis? ists in this direction has been called into requisition, and steel bands capable of bn ing coiled and of exerting a great presaum have been made in lengths of one hundred yards each. In Sheffield some of thasltal manufactories have turned out springs aixly feet long, and said to be capable of the enor mous pressure of eight hundred pounds. To wind up these springs requires more power than is attainable by hand, of course, and it is therefore proposed to have them wound at certain interval by means of stationary engines. Some of these methods consist of a combination of spiral springs.