dimecres, 30 de març de 2016

I can no longer keep my terrible secret, although the thought of what will happen to me, when I tell my story, gives me a trembling from head to toe. Without doubt, word will flash to the proper authorities and stern-faced men with sympathetic eyes will bring straitjacket and sedatives, and hunt me down to tear me from Mary's clinging arms. A padded cell will be made ready for another unfortunate. Nevertheless what we have just read in the newspapers has made us fearfully agree that I must tell all, regardless of my own fate. So let me say this: If it is true that an expedition is being organized in London to go to the cold and rocky wastes of the Himalayas for the purpose of investigating that astonishing primeval creature called 'The Abominable Snowman,' then I am forced to tell you immediately ... the Abominable Snowman is none other than Mr. Eammer, the famous movie magnate. And I am the one responsible for this amazing situation. I and my invention which Mr. Eammer had hired me to develop, an invention which would put 3-D and Cinemascope and the new Largoscope process so far behind in the fierce Hollywood battle for supremacy that Mr. Eammer would at last have complete control of the industry, and, for that matter, television also. You will say this is impossible because one or two glimpses of the Abominable Snowman have shown it to be an apelike creature? And the animal's body is covered with thick, coarse hair? Well, did you ever see Mr. Eammer lounging beside his elaborate Beverly Hills swimming pool? He looks as if he's just climbed down from a tree. The last young movie lovely an agent had brought around to talk contracts took one look, screamed and fainted. It is said she was hysterical for two days. But let me tell how it all started. Remember those awful days when television, like a monster with a wild pituitary gland, grew until it took the word 'colossal' away from filmdom? What a battle! Like two giant bears rearing up face to face, roaring, screaming, swapping terrible blows of mighty paws, the two industries fought, with the film industry reeling bloodily, at first, then rallying with 3-D, then Cinemascope, and television pressing home the fierce attack with color TV. And who was caught in the middle of all this, without any protection? Mr. Eammer. Why? Well, let me give you some background on that character. When talkies killed the era of silent films, Mr. Eammer nearly got shaken loose in the change. He'd scornfully dismissed the new development. "Ha," he'd said. "People come to my movies for one of two things. To fall asleep, or to look at the pretty girlies." When the movie industry began to look for good stories and material that stimulated the mind as well as the emotion, Mr. Eammer had jeered. "Ha. People are stupid, people are sheep. They don't want to think, they just want to see the pretty girlies." Six months later, Mr. Eammer had sent emissaries to England to try to hire this guy Billy Shakespeare. "Offer him anything," ordered Mr. Eammer grimly. "Tell him we'll fill the water cooler in his office with gin, he can pick any secretary he likes from among our starlets, and ... and ..." he swallowed, then recklessly added, "we'll even give him screen credit." Of course the men he'd sent out searching knew Billy Shakespeare had kicked off, though they weren't sure whether it was last year or ten years ago. But it was a fine trip on the expense account and after a few weeks of riotous searching in London's gayer areas, they wired that Shakespeare had caught a bad cold, the penicillin had run out and he'd not lasted the night. But Mr. Eammer pulled out of his situation. He bought up just the right to use the titles of great classic novels, ignored the contents, and had entirely different stories written. "Not enough girlies in their versions," he explained, frowning. "Them hack writers don't have stuff with real interest to it." By the time the customers were in the packed movie houses, they were so stunned with the spectacle of unclad femininity that they'd completely forgotten what they'd come to see. Half of them had never read the classics anyway. So the dough rolled in and Mr. Eammer's estate was photographed in color and published in "Beautiful Homes" magazines, and high school newspapers sent nervous young reporters to ask advice for graduates yearning to get into the movie business. How, they asked humbly, could they carve a place for themselves? Mr. Eammer beamed and said, "Girlies. Use plenty of girlies. It gets them every time." The printed interview, as approved and edited by high school faculty advisors, did not contain this advice. But the girlies weren't enough to save Mr. Eammer when television hit the movies on its glass jaw. He didn't believe what was happening, until it was too late. When his studio started hitting the skids, he hastily withdrew funds and liquidated assets and rented a number of safe-deposit boxes. Then he sat back and let his creditors scream a symphony of threats. It was at that time that Mr. Eammer heard that I, a young physicist interested in optics, had stumbled across an oddity which might revolutionize the movie industry. He'd heard of this through Mary, whom I love with all my heart, and who will sometimes embarrass me by proudly telling people how intelligent I am. As Mr. Eammer's secretary, she let him know all about me, just as she let me know all I have just told you about him. Mary is not a reticent person; she is too loving of her fellow man to withhold even the slightest information and perhaps I should have kept my astonishing discovery to myself. In any case the phone rang in my very small laboratory one day and Mary's excited voice said, "Joe, darling. It's me. I told him about your invention. Come down right away." "Who?" I said. "Where? What are you talking about?" "To the studio," she said impatiently. "To see my boss, Mr. Eammer. He says if your invention is...." "Now wait a minute," I shouted with indignation. "I told you not to tell anybody about it. It's not perfected. In fact, I don't understand how it works exactly." "Stop being so modest," she said firmly. "I know you. You're a genius and genius is never, never satisfied. I read all about it. You want us to get married, don't you?" "Yes," I said, sudden longing surging through my heart. "Can we afford to? No. So come on down. Anyway, I already told him. Don't make me into a ... a liar," begged Mary. "If he likes your invention, maybe he'll buy it." The things we do for the women we love. I went there in fear and was trembling with good reason. Not knowing quite how my invention operated, it could be stolen from me, because it might not be patentable. It was more discovery than invention. Oh, I can tell you, I went to see Mr. Eammer in a cold sweat of fear that I might be losing my hold on the strange and accidental phenomena across which I'd stumbled. I got quite a greeting. When I walked into his elaborate outer offices, the workers were sitting hushed in fear before their desks. From within his private offices I could hear bellowing and the sounds of things smashing. Mary hurried over to me, her warm, brown eyes pleading. Before she could say anything, I heard Mr. Eammer say in a shout, right through the partly opened door, "Well, what have you done about it?" A trembling voice said, "Sir, I've cut staff fifty per cent." "Stupid!" roared Mr. Eammer's voice. "Who's talking about that? Did you ask Peterson of World Studios if he'll license us to use his new Largoscope system?" "Y-yes." A moment of terrified silence. "He s-said your outfit could use his Largoscope on only one occasion. When they f-film your funeral." There was a gasp, then the door opened and a perspiring, harried, bald-headed man lurched out. With glazed eyes, he made a beeline for the outer door. "Let's go in," said Mary eagerly "He'll be so glad to see you." I looked at her incredulously, but she took my arm and dragged me inside. There Mr. Eammer sat twitching and shuddering, his head in his pudgy hands. He looked dully at us from tiny eyes. "Everybody hates my genius," he said, waggling his head from side to side. "Everybody envies me. The wild dogs are gathering to pull down the noble elk." As he glared at us, Mary said swiftly, "Yes, sir." "The wounded lion," whispered Mr. Eammer dramatically, tears of self-pity coming to his eyes. "Surrounded by jackals and laughing hyenas. I am dying of my wounds." He uttered a wail. "Everybody's got a new filming system but me." He drew a deep breath. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded. "He's...." began Mary. "Wait a minute," he said. He grabbed a phone from the six on his desk. "Hey. Publicity.... Hey, Mike. I want rumors spread about Largoscope. Top doctors say it'll ruin the eyes, make you stone blind." He paused, his face purpling. "Okay, if you can't do it, then get another job. You're fired." He slammed the phone down. "No cooperation from anybody," he said heavily. "Surrounded by incompetents." He glared at me. "Who the hell are you?" "I'm ..." I began. At this moment, the door opened and in came a man with a sheaf of papers and a film of sweat on his forehead. "I hate to interrupt, Mr. Eammer," he said doggedly, "but I got your note on the Lolita Vaughn contract we drew up. I knew there must be some mistake, so...." "Mistake, what kind of mistake?" snapped Mr. Eammer. "I want you to tear the contract up. I said we aren't going to sign after all. I got a bigger name for the picture than her." The man winced. "Well," he said. "I ... I was just wondering. I mean, after all, we talked her into turning down that fat part in the new Broadway show that opened last night. It's a smash hit, I read today...." "Tough," shouted Mr. Eammer. "My heart bleeds. Did I know when I made that promise that I could get a big star at such a cheap price? I acted hastily, I made a mistake, so I corrected that mistake." He looked stern. "Would it be fair to the stockholders if I took Lolita under these conditions?" "But you own all the stock!" "That's what I said, you fool!" roared Mr. Eammer. "Get out of here." As the man fled, I stared at Mr. Eammer in horror and disgust. Never would I trust a man like this, was my thought. He glared at me. "Who the hell are you?" he snarled. "I keep asking you and you stand there like a dummy." "He's the scientist I told you about," said Mary. "He's a genius. He has a new invention that will make Largoscope obsolete." "This?" said the producer with incredulity. "This beanpole is a scientist? I don't believe it." He stared morosely at me, shaking his head. "He looks like an elevator operator who can't figure out what button to push." "I beg your pardon!" I said with indignation. "I am a graduate of M.I.T. I graduated summa cum laude." "Anybody can pick up a few words of French," he sneered. "If you're such a genius, how much money have you got, hah?" As I looked at him numbly, my jaw hanging open, he tapped his chest with a sausagelike forefinger. "Now I am a genius, see? I'm the guy who hires you. Now that we got that straight, what's this nonsense about you being smart enough to figure out a new invention that will make Largoscope obsolete?" The weary cynicism in his gross face enraged me. If ever I had an immediate yearning to crush a man, to make him say 'uncle,' to have him beg and yearn, it was at that moment and toward this insufferable moron. Within half an hour, we had driven back to my small laboratory. He peered suspiciously at the involved maze of wiring and electronic equipment. I pointed to the small un-roofed cabinet on my long work-table. It was two feet deep and the four walls, which were three feet long, were studded with small tubes I'd rather not describe, since I've developed them myself and they produce a new kind of ray. "That's my camera," I said. "It looks more like a diathermy machine or a sweatbox for reducing," he said skeptically. "How's it operate?" I set a few dials and went to find Susie, my white cat. "Here pussy, pussy," I said tenderly. "The man's gone nuts," said Mr. Eammer in disgust. "Take it easy," I snapped. "That's how I made my strange discovery. I was doing a test on the effect of a new kind of radiation on fabrics. And Susie, my cat, walked over the equipment. First she stepped on a dial, turning it accidentally to full power, then she wandered into the box." "So what?" "Watch and see," I said. I got Susie and she complacently allowed herself to be put into the box. I placed Mary at the dials with instructions and took Mr. Eammer to the next room and pointed to a huge circle chalked on the floor. The movie magnate waited impatiently. "Mary," I shouted. "Okay. Turn dial number one to full force." We heard a click. Then Mr. Eammer yelped and cowered behind me. Because in front of us, within the chalked circle, appeared a giant eight-foot-tall cat, an enormous duplicate of Susie. Susie was licking her paw with a tongue that was nearly two feet long. "Don't be afraid," I said proudly. "It's just an image. Look." I stepped forward and ran my hand through the air where the giant figure of Susie ignored me. My hand disappeared into the image, and I felt the usual puzzling tingle, as if I were getting a shock. And Susie, from the next room, uttered a faint meow and stopped licking her paw as if she, too, felt something. "But ... but there's no screen," Eammer said. "And ... and it looks real. It's got three dimensions like an actual body." He cautiously approached, his hands shaking with excitement. He tip-toed around behind the cat image. He choked, "It's like a real, living cat all around." "You haven't seen anything yet," I said happily. "Watch this. Mary," I yelled again. "Turn dial number two very slowly." As we stared, the image of the three-dimensional Susie shrank from eight feet all the way down to a three-dimensional miniature cat the size of a thimble. Mr. Eammer looked as if he might faint. "Good-by, Largoscope," I said grimly. "This will make all 3-D and large screen systems obsolete. It will revolutionize television, too. People will sit home and see actual figures, three-dimensional figures of real people. There will be no screens at all. The effects of depth and solidity, as you see, are perfect...." Suddenly Susie in the next room gave a yelping meow and Mary gasped. We jumped, then ran inside. Mary was wringing her hand. There was a little smoke in the room. "My hand hit a wire," said Mary, embarrassed. "I guess I caused a short circuit or something. I'm sorry. All this smoke." She put her hands to her eyes, rubbing. "Susie all right?" I said. "I guess so," she said. "She moved so fast I could hardly see...." "My dear fellow." Mr. Eammer was most cordial. He put his arm around my shoulders. He was beaming at me. He was offering me a fat cigar. "What a wonderful invention. You are indeed a genius and I offer you my humblest apologies." "I accept them," I said, pushing him away with distaste. "You may leave now, Mr. Eammer." "Leave? Not until we've signed a contract, my friend. I want that invention." "Mr. Eammer, that invention isn't perfected yet. I don't even know how it works. The principles are beyond me. It is something new in the world of physics and optics, and...." "That's all right," he cried. "I'll give you six months. A year. More. But I want it...." "No. I'm afraid I don't trust you," I said. Far from being offended, he was delighted. He laughed as if I'd said something witty. "Of course you don't," he said. "You don't trust me and you don't like me. But just listen to my offer." Right then and there Mr. Eammer made an offer that had my head swimming. He would, first of all, deposit in an account in my name the sum of one million dollars—free of taxes. Second, he would include in the contract a stipulation that I'd get fifty per cent of all royalties. Third—and very important to me—in the event that the patent he would apply for in my name was refused, or if it was broken by further research, I could keep the million dollars. "And last," said Mr. Eammer, his nostrils flaring as he closed in for the kill, "I'll make your girl friend, Mary, a big movie star." Mary's eyes widened. She clasped her hands before her, nervously. "Me?" she whispered. "B-but I can't act." "What's that got to do with it?" Mr. Eammer asked impatiently. "You just got to hold still when the male lead grabs you. Leave it all to him, he knows what to do." "No," I cried, appalled. "I don't want anybody else kissing Mary." "Neither do I," said Mary, blushing. "You're absolutely right." Mr. Eammer uttered a deep sigh. "Such deep love, such clean emotion, it cuts my heart out, honestly. Okay, we'll give the script a scrubbing. Nobody'll put a finger on her." "I don't think I'm interested," said Mary regretfully. Mr. Eammer was staggered. He recovered immediately and said hastily, "Smart girl. What intelligence. It's no life for you." "But, Mary," I said, kind of liking the idea of my Mary on the screen; of being sole owner of her sweetness with millions of people knowing nobody could kiss this girl but myself. "It's such a rare opportunity. Every girl wants to be a movie star. Do it!" "Sure," cried Mr. Eammer. "Don't be a dope. How many girls get a chance like this?" Mary whispered, her eyes shining, "Well, all right, dear, if you insist." "You have a deal, Mr. Eammer," I said quickly. Mary typed the contract on my portable as dictated by Mr. Eammer. "Put in a clause," I said cautiously, remembering his ethics, "that the contract is effective only when the million is deposited in my account." Mr. Eammer frowned. "Put in a clause for me, too," he said. "He can't draw on the million without a signed receipt from me saying he's delivered all his blueprints and technical notebooks on the invention—and a full-size camera model, big enough to hold people." "I agree," I said. "I'll have it built and delivered immediately." I shook Mr. Eammer's clammy hand and he departed with Mary to get the million dollars out of his secret safe-deposit boxes. I stared dreamily after them, mentally spending that money on all the wonderful things I'd always wanted. A scintillometer. A centrifuge. Maybe I could even build my own private cyclotron. And I could visualize Mary cooking dinner in a little white cottage with a picket fence. Within the week, I had delivered the full-size camera to Mr. Eammer's studio. As he left me, whimpering with joy and carefully locking the iron doors of the room he'd set aside for my equipment, I stared at the signed receipt in my hand. A million dollars. I was rich. At this moment, Mary appeared at the studio gate and ran toward me, her face deathly pale. "What's the matter?" I cried. "Remember how we couldn't find Susie all week?" she gasped. "Well, I just found her." Mary held out her fist, opened her fingers and I recoiled in astonishment. In her palm was Susie, my cat. But a Susie that was one inch long ... the smallest, tiniest cat I'd ever seen. She was alive and seemed healthy as she licked her white fur and uttered a meow I barely could hear. My throat was so dry I could hardly get the words out. "Good Lord. The invention. Something went wrong. It not only sends the image in three dimensions without a screen to receive it; it also transmits the actual body itself through space. I've created a matter transmitter." "But ... but why is Susie so small?" wailed Mary. "Apparently it transmits whatever size the image is set at. Remember we had reduced the image of Susie and at that time you short-circuited the wires? That short circuit is what did it. If Susie's image had been large at that moment, we would have had an eight-foot-tall cat on our hands...." I paused appalled, my eyes clinging to the incredible one-inch cat now peering over the edge of Mary's hand at the ground below. It shrank back fearfully. "My God," I whispered. I turned and, with Mary close behind me, made a beeline for Mr. Eammer.

We finally found him and got him alone. Mary opened her palm and, without a word, showed him Susie. Mr. Eammer's eyes bulged and his jowls turned ashen. Susie scratched her ear with her miniature rear left foot and I idly wondered just how small Susie's fleas were.
"I warned you," I said grimly, "that I didn't know how this thing worked or the principles behind it. This is what's liable to happen whenever there is a short circuit in the camera box. I don't know why it happens, but it's too dangerous to use. If you want to call off our deal...."
"No, no, no," said Mr. Eammer rapidly. A cunning look came over his face. "I'm sure you can work the bugs out of it, can't you? I'm sure you're anxious to do more research on it?"
"Indeed, I am," I said warmly. "You are a man with the true scientific spirit."
"Go right to work," he said urgently, his fascinated eyes never leaving Susie. "Work night and day, day and night. I'll never leave your side. We must learn how this gadget works."
That's what we did. Making Susie comfortable in a matchbox, we set to work in the dead of night when no inquisitive eyes might see our strange experiments.
Mary made us pots of steaming coffee and Mr. Eammer paced helpfully back and forth uttering unclear mumbles, as I toiled the long, wearying hours.
It did not take long for me to gain an empirical understanding of what I had, by which I mean that, like electricity in its early days, the mysterious force could be utilized, made to perform, without complete understanding of its basic nature.
The night came when I had full control of the machine. We stood staring at it in awe. We had made Susie her normal size again. We had enlarged the image of an old shoe, recklessly aimed the projector out toward the country and flicked the short circuit switch that sent it out in space as solid matter.
After three breathless days, we read the puzzled report in the newspapers. A shoe eight feet long and three feet high had been found in the backyard of a summer cottage. It was a three-day wonder, until somebody advanced the theory that it was obviously a prop of some kind of musical comedy movie.

I looked at my machine with the sense of having created one of the greatest wonders of science. My voice was trembling with pride as I said to Mary and Mr. Eammer, "The things that can be done with this invention. The incredible things...."
"Yes," said Mr. Eammer, gloating. "And it's mine, all mine."
"You'll be the biggest man in the movie industry," I said solemnly. "You made a good investment."
Mr. Eammer gave me a strange smile. "You are a great inventor, my boy, but you have a small imagination. Biggest man in Hollywood, did you say? The only man in Hollywood, you mean. Why, do you realize what I can do with this machine? I can own Hollywood, Television, Broadway. And I'll make a list of people I don't like that I'll get even with. Why, I can be Master of the Entertainment World...."
The blinding realization of what I had done flared in my numbed brain. I had given a tremendous scientific weapon to a ruthless moron. And there was nothing I could do, because he had my blueprints locked in his safe....
I stepped forward and with full force hit Mr. Eammer on the jaw.
As he sagged, I grabbed him and shoved him into the transmitter. "Look out," cried Mary. "He's getting up."
"No," he said in a strangled voice as he struggled to his knees. "No. I'll ... I'll fix you...."
I turned the dials full power, hit the directional switch with my open palm and closed my eyes.
Mr. Eammer's voice cut off abruptly. When I opened my eyes, he was gone.
"Thank heaven," gasped Mary in relief.

I immediately made computations and my figures showed that Mr. Eammer must have been transported to the Himalayas.
That's the area where the Abominable Snowman had been sighted. That is why I must speak now, regardless of any opinions about the state of my sanity. I would not want Mr. Eammer shot by mistake, as he comes rushing toward a party of explorers.
It's all right to bring him back now. I've smashed the machine beyond repair and, since Mary was Mr. Eammer's private secretary, she knew where to get the combination of his safe, so we were able to destroy my blueprints and technical notebooks.
I've turned the million dollars over to Mr. Eammer's lawyers and they are now fighting off the creditors, who all think Mr. Eammer is deliberately hiding from them.
Whatever you do, please don't take a shot at the Abominable Snowman.
It is Mr. Gamma Sana bagana....

Everyone—all the geologists, at any rate—had known about the Kiowa Fault for years. That was before there was anything very interesting to know about it. The first survey of Colorado traced its course north and south in the narrow valley of Kiowa Creek about twenty miles east of Denver; it extended south to the Arkansas River. And that was about all even the professionals were interested in knowing. There was never so much as a landslide to bring the Fault to the attention of the general public. It was still a matter of academic interest when in the late '40s geologists speculated on the relationship between the Kiowa Fault and the Conchas Fault farther south, in New Mexico, and which followed the Pecos as far south as Texas. Nor was there much in the papers a few years later when it was suggested that the Niobrara Fault (just inside and roughly parallel to the eastern border of Wyoming) was a northerly extension of the Kiowa. By the mid sixties it was definitely established that the three Faults were in fact a single line of fissure in the essential rock, stretching almost from the Canadian border well south of the New Mexico-Texas line. It is not really surprising that it took so long to figure out the connection. The population of the states affected was in places as low as five people per square mile! The land was so dry it seemed impossible that it could ever be used except for sheep-farming. It strikes us today as ironic that from the late '50s there was grave concern about the level of the water table throughout the entire area. The even more ironic solution to the problem began in the summer of 1973. It had been a particularly hot and dry August, and the Forestry Service was keeping an anxious eye out for the fires it knew it could expect. Dense smoke was reported rising above a virtually uninhabited area along Black Squirrel Creek, and a plane was sent out for a report. The report was—no fire at all. The rising cloud was not smoke, but dust. Thousands of cubic feet of dry earth rising lazily on the summer air. Rock slides, they guessed; certainly no fire. The Forestry Service had other worries at the moment, and filed the report. But after a week had gone by, the town of Edison, a good twenty miles away from the slides, was still complaining of the dust. Springs was going dry, too, apparently from underground disturbances. Not even in the Rockies could anyone remember a series of rock slides as bad as this. Newspapers in the mountain states gave it a few inches on the front page; anything is news in late August. And the geologists became interested. Seismologists were reporting unusual activity in the area, tremors too severe to be rock slides. Volcanic activity? Specifically, a dust volcano? Unusual, they knew, but right on the Kiowa Fault—could be. Labor Day crowds read the scientific conjectures with late summer lassitude. Sunday supplements ran four-color artists' conceptions of the possible volcano. "Only Active Volcano in U. S.?" demanded the headlines, and some papers even left off the question mark. It may seem odd that the simplest explanation was practically not mentioned. Only Joseph Schwartzberg, head geographer of the Department of the Interior, wondered if the disturbance might not be a settling of the Kiowa Fault. His suggestion was mentioned on page nine or ten of the Monday newspapers (page 27 of the New York Times). The idea was not nearly so exciting as a volcano, even a lava-less one, and you couldn't draw a very dramatic picture of it. To excuse the other geologists, it must be said that the Kiowa Fault had never acted up before. It never sidestepped, never jiggled, never, never produced the regular shows of its little sister out in California, which almost daily bounced San Francisco or Los Angeles, or some place in between. The dust volcano was on the face of it a more plausible theory. Still, it was only a theory. It had to be proved. As the tremors grew bigger, along with the affected area, as several towns including Edison were shaken to pieces by incredible earthquakes, whole bus- and plane-loads of geologists set out for Colorado, without even waiting for their university and government department to approve budgets. They found, of course, that Schwartzberg had been perfectly correct. They found themselves on the scene of what was fast becoming the most violent and widespread earthquake North America—probably the world—has ever seen in historic times. To describe it in the simplest terms, land east of the Fault was settling, and at a precipitous rate. Rock scraped rock with a whining roar. Shuddery as a squeaky piece of chalk raked across a blackboard, the noise was deafening. The surfaces of the land east and west of the Fault seemed no longer to have any relation to each other. To the west, tortured rock reared into cliffs. East, where sharp reports and muffled wheezes told of continued buckling and dropping, the earth trembled downward. Atop the new cliffs, which seemed to grow by sudden inches from heaving rubble, dry earth fissured and trembled, sliding acres at a time to fall, smoking, into the bucking, heaving bottom of the depression. There the devastation was even more thorough, if less spectacular. Dry earth churned like mud, and rock shards weighing tons bumped and rolled about like pebbles as they shivered and cracked into pebbles themselves. "It looks like sand dancing in a child's sieve," said the normally impassive Schwartzberg in a nationwide broadcast from the scene of disaster. "No one here has ever seen anything like it." And the landslip was growing, north and south along the Fault. "Get out while you can," Schwartzberg urged the population of the affected area. "When it's over you can come back and pick up the pieces." But the band of scientists who had rallied to his leadership privately wondered if there would be any pieces. The Arkansas River, at Avondale and North Avondale, was sluggishly backing north into the deepening trough. At the rate things were going, there might be a new lake the entire length of El Paso and Pueblo Counties. And, warned Schwartzberg, this might only be the beginning. By 16 September the landslip had crept down the Huerfano River past Cedarwood. Avondale, North Avondale and Boone had totally disappeared. Land west of the Fault was holding firm, though Denver had recorded several small tremors; everywhere east of the Fault, to almost twenty miles away, the now-familiar lurch and steady fall had already sent several thousand Coloradans scurrying for safety. All mountain climbing was prohibited on the Eastern Slope because of the danger of rock slides from minor quakes. The geologists went home to wait. There wasn't much to wait for. The news got worse and worse. The Platte River, now, was creating a vast mud puddle where the town of Orchard had been. Just below Masters, Colorado, the river leaped 70-foot cliffs to add to the heaving chaos below. And the cliffs were higher every day as the land beneath them groaned downward in mile-square gulps. As the Fault moved north and south, new areas quivered into unwelcome life. Fields and whole mountainsides moved with deceptive sloth down, down. They danced "like sand in a sieve"; dry, they boiled into rubble. Telephone lines, railroad tracks, roads snapped and simply disappeared. Virtually all east-west land communication was suspended and the President declared a national emergency. By 23 September the Fault was active well into Wyoming on the north, and rapidly approaching the border of New Mexico to the south. Trinchera and Branson were totally evacuated, but even so the over-all death toll had risen above 1,000. Away to the east the situation was quiet but even more ominous. Tremendous fissures opened up perpendicular to the Fault, and a general subsidence of the land was noticeable well into Kansas and Nebraska. The western borders of these states, and soon of the Dakotas and Oklahoma as well, were slowly sinking. On the actual scene of the disaster (or the scenes; it is impossible to speak of anything this size in the singular) there was a horrifying confusion. Prairie and hill cracked open under intolerable strains as the land shuddered downward in gasps and leaps. Springs burst to the surface in hot geysers and explosions of steam. The downtown section of North Platte, Nebraska, dropped eight feet, just like that, on the afternoon of 4 October. "We must remain calm," declared the Governor of Nebraska. "We must sit this thing out. Be assured that everything possible is being done." But what could be done, with his state dropping straight down at a mean rate of a foot a day? The Fault nicked off the south-east corner of Montana. It worked its way north along the Little Missouri. South, it ripped past Roswell, New Mexico, and tore down the Pecos toward Texas. All the upper reaches of the Missouri were standing puddles by now, and the Red River west of Paris, Texas, had begun to run backward. Soon the Missouri began slowly slipping away westward over the slowly churning land. Abandoning its bed, the river spread uncertainly across farmland and prairie, becoming a sea of mud beneath the sharp new cliffs which rose in rending line, ever taller as the land continued to sink, almost from Canada to the Mexican border. There were virtually no floods, in the usual sense. The water moved too slowly, spread itself with no real direction or force. But the vast sheets of sluggish water and jelly-like mud formed death-traps for the countless refugees now streaming east. Perhaps the North Platte disaster had been more than anyone could take. 193 people had died in that one cave-in. Certainly by 7 October it had to be officially admitted that there was an exodus of epic proportion. Nearly two million people were on the move, and the U. S. was faced with a gigantic wave of refugees. Rails, roads and air-lanes were jammed with terrified hordes who had left everything behind to crowd eastward. All through October hollow-eyed motorists flocked into Tulsa, Topeka, Omaha, Sioux Falls and Fargo. St. Louis was made distributing center for emergency squads which flew everywhere with milk for babies and dog food for evacuating pets. Gasoline trucks boomed west to meet the demand for gas, but once inside the "zone of terror," as the newspapers now called it, they found their route blocked by eastbound cars on the wrong side of the road. Shops left by their fleeing owners were looted by refugees from further west; an American Airlines plane was wrecked by a mob of would-be passengers in Bismarck, North Dakota. Federal and State troops were called out, but moving two million people was not to be done in an orderly way. And still the landslip grew larger. The new cliffs gleamed in the autumn sunshine, growing higher as the land beneath them continued its inexorable descent. On 21 October, at Lubbock, Texas, there was a noise variously described as a hollow roar, a shriek and a deep musical vibration like a church bell. It was simply the tortured rock of the substrata giving way. The second phase of the national disaster was beginning. The noise traveled due east at better than 85 miles per hour. In its wake the earth to the north "just seemed to collapse on itself like a punctured balloon," read one newspaper report. "Like a cake that's failed," said a Texarkana housewife who fortunately lived a block south of Thayer Street, where the fissure raced through. There was a sigh and a great cloud of dust, and Oklahoma subsided at the astounding rate of about six feet per hour. At Biloxi, on the Gulf, there had been uneasy shufflings under foot all day. "Not tremors, exactly," said the captain of a fishing boat which was somehow to ride out the coming flood, "but like as if the land wanted to be somewhere else." Everyone in doomed Biloxi would have done well to have been somewhere else that evening. At approximately 8:30 p.m. the town shuddered, seemed to rise a little like the edge of a hall carpet caught in a draft, and sank. So did the entire Mississippi and Alabama coast, at about the same moment. The tidal wave which was to gouge the center from the U. S. marched on the land. From the north shore of Lake Ponchartrain to the Appalachicola River in Florida, the Gulf coast simply disappeared. Gulfport, Biloxi, Mobile, Pensacola, Panama City: 200 miles of shoreline vanished, with over two and a half million people. An hour later a wall of water had swept over every town from Dothan, Alabama, to Bogalusa on the Louisiana-Mississippi border. "We must keep panic from our minds," said the Governor of Alabama in a radio message delivered from a hastily arranged all-station hookup. "We of the gallant southland have faced and withstood invasion before." Then, as ominous creakings and groanings of the earth announced the approach of the tidal wave, he flew out of Montgomery half an hour before the town disappeared forever. One head of the wave plunged north, eventually to spend itself in the hills south of Birmingham. The main sweep followed the lowest land. Reaching west, it swallowed Vicksburg and nicked the corner of Louisiana. The whole of East Carroll Parish was scoured from the map. The Mississippi River now ended at about Eudora, Arkansas, and minute by minute the advancing flood bit away miles of river bed, swelling north. Chicot, Jennie, Lake Village, Arkansas City, Snow Lake, Elaine, Helena and Memphis felt the tremors. The tormented city shuddered through the night. The earth continued its descent, eventually tipping 2-1/2 degrees down to the west. The "Memphis Tilt" is today one of the unique and charming characteristics of the gracious Old Town, but during the night of panic Memphis residents were sure they were doomed. South and west the waters carved deeply into Arkansas and Oklahoma. By morning it was plain that all of Arkansas was going under. Waves advanced on Little Rock at almost 100 miles an hour, new crests forming, overtopping the wave's leading edge as towns, hills and the thirst of the soil temporarily broke the furious charge. Washington announced the official hope that the Ozarks would stop the wild gallop of the unleashed Gulf, for in northwest Arkansas the land rose to over 2,000 feet. But nothing could save Oklahoma. By noon the water reached clutching fingers around Mt. Scott and Elk Mountain, deluging Hobart and almost all of Greer County. Despite hopeful announcements that the wave was slowing, had virtually stopped after inundating Oklahoma City, was being swallowed up in the desert near Amarillo, the wall of water continued its advance. For the land was still sinking, and the floods were constantly replenished from the Gulf. Schwartzberg and his geologists advised the utmost haste in evacuating the entire area between Colorado and Missouri, from Texas to North Dakota. Lubbock, Texas, went under. On a curling reflex the tidal wave blotted out Sweetwater and Big Spring. The Texas panhandle disappeared in one great swirl. Whirlpools opened. A great welter of smashed wood and human debris was sucked under, vomited up and pounded to pieces. Gulf-water crashed on the cliffs of New Mexico and fell back on itself in foam. Would-be rescuers on the cliffs along what had been the west bank of the Pecos River afterwards recalled the hiss and scream like tearing silk as the water broke furiously on the newly exposed rock. It was the most terrible sound they had ever heard. "We couldn't hear any shouts, of course, not that far away and with all the noise," said Dan Weaver, Mayor of Carlsbad. "But we knew there were people down there. When the water hit the cliffs, it was like a collision between two solid bodies. We couldn't see for over an hour, because of the spray." Salt spray. The ocean had come to New Mexico. The cliffs proved to be the only effective barrier against the westward march of the water, which turned north, gouging out lumps of rock and tumbling down blocks of earth onto its own back. In places scoops of granite came out like ice cream. The present fishing town of Rockport, Colorado, is built on a harbor created in such a way. The water had found its farthest westering. But still it poured north along the line of the original Fault. Irresistible fingers closed on Sterling, Colorado, on Sidney, Nebraska, on Hot Springs, South Dakota. The entire tier of states settled, from south to north, down to its eventual place of stability one thousand feet below the level of the new sea. Memphis was by now a seaport. The Ozarks, islands in a mad sea, formed precarious havens for half-drowned humanity. Waves bit off a corner of Missouri, flung themselves on Wichita. Topeka, Lawrence and Belleville were the last Kansas towns to disappear. The Governor of Kansas went down with his State. Daniel Bernd of Lincoln, Nebraska, was washed up half-drowned in a cove of the Wyoming cliffs, having been sucked from one end of vanished Nebraska to the other. Similar hair-breadth escapes were recounted on radio and television. Virtually the only people saved out of the entire population of Pierre, South Dakota were the six members of the Creeth family. Plucky Timothy Creeth carried and dragged his aged parents to the loft of their barn on the outskirts of town. His brother Geoffrey brought along the younger children and what provisions they could find—"Mostly a ham and about half a ton of vanilla cookies," he explained to his eventual rescuers. The barn, luckily collapsing in the vibrations as the waves bore down on them, became an ark in which they rode out the disaster. "We must of played cards for four days straight," recalled genial Mrs. Creeth when she afterwards appeared on a popular television spectacular. Her rural good-humor undamaged by an ordeal few women can ever have been called on to face, she added, "We sure wondered why flushes never came out right. Jimanettly, we'd left the king of hearts behind, in the rush!" But such lightheartedness and such happy endings were by no means typical. The world could only watch aghast as the water raced north under the shadow of the cliffs which occasionally crumbled, roaring, into the roaring waves. Day by day the relentless rush swallowed what had been dusty farmland, cities and towns. Some people were saved by the helicopters which flew mercy missions just ahead of the advancing waters. Some found safety in the peaks of western Nebraska and the Dakotas. But when the waters came to rest along what is roughly the present shoreline of our inland sea, it was estimated that over fourteen million people had lost their lives. No one could even estimate the damage to property; almost the entirety of eight states, and portions of twelve others, had simply vanished from the heart of the North American continent forever. It was in such a cataclysmic birth that the now-peaceful Nebraska Sea came to America. Today, nearly one hundred years after the unprecedented—and happily unrepeated—disaster, it is hard to remember the terror and despair of those weeks in October and November, 1973. It is inconceivable to think of the United States without its beautiful and economically essential curve of interior ocean. Two-thirds as long as the Mediterranean, it graduates from the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico through the equally blue waves of the Mississippi Bight, becoming cooler and greener north and west of the pleasant fishing isles of the Ozark Archipelago, finally shading into the gray-green chop of the Gulf of Dakota. What would the United States have become without the 5600-mile coastline of our inland sea? It is only within the last twenty years that any but the topmost layer of water has cleared sufficiently to permit a really extensive fishing industry. Mud still held in suspension by the restless waves will not precipitate fully even in our lifetimes. Even so, the commercial fisheries of Missouri and Wyoming contribute no small part to the nation's economy. Who can imagine what the middle west must have been like before the amelioration of climate brought about by the proximity of a warm sea? The now-temperate state of Minnesota (to say nothing of the submerged Dakotas) must have been Siberian. From contemporary accounts Missouri, our second California, was unbelievably muggy, almost uninhabitable during the summer months. Our climate today, from Ohio and North Carolina to the rich fields of New Mexico and the orchards of Montana, is directly ameliorated by the marine heart of the continent. Who today could imagine the United States without the majestic sea-cliffs in stately parade from New Mexico to Montana? The beaches of Wyoming, the American Riviera, where fruit trees grow almost to the water's edge? Or incredible Colorado, where the morning skier is the afternoon bather, thanks to the monorail connecting the highest peaks with the glistening white beaches? Of course there have been losses to balance slightly these strong gains. The Mississippi was, before 1973, one of the great rivers of the world. Taken together with its main tributary, the Missouri, it vied favorably with such giant systems as the Amazon and the Ganges. Now, ending as it does at Memphis and drawing its water chiefly from the Appalachian Mountains, it is only a slight remnant of what it was. And though the Nebraska Sea today carries many times the tonnage of shipping in its ceaseless traffic, we have lost the old romance of river shipping. We may only guess what it was like when we look upon the Ohio and the truncated Mississippi. And transcontinental shipping is somewhat more difficult, with trucks and the freight-railroads obliged to take the sea-ferries across the Nebraska Sea. We shall never know what the United States was like with its numerous coast-to-coast highways busy with trucks and private cars. Still, the ferry ride is certainly a welcome break after days of driving, and for those who wish a glimpse of what it must have been like, there is always the Cross-Canada Throughway and the magnificent U. S. Highway 73 looping north through Minnesota and passing through the giant port of Alexis, North Dakota, shipping center for the wheat of Manitoba and crossroad of a nation. The political situation has long been a thorny problem. Only tattered remnants of the eight submerged states remained after the flood, but none of them wanted to surrender its autonomy. The tiny fringe of Kansas seemed, for a time, ready to merge with contiguous Missouri, but following the lead of the Arkansas Forever faction, the remaining population decided to retain political integrity. This has resulted in the continuing anomaly of the seven "fringe States" represented in Congress by the usual two Senators each, though the largest of them is barely the size of Connecticut and all are economically indistinguishable from their neighboring states. Fortunately it was decided some years ago that Oklahoma, only one of the eight to have completely disappeared, could not in any sense be considered to have a continuing political existence. So, though there are still families who proudly call themselves Oklahomans, and the Oklahoma Oil Company continues to pump oil from its submerged real estate, the state has in fact disappeared from the American political scene. But this is by now no more than a petty annoyance, to raise a smile when the talk gets around to the question of State's Rights. Not even the tremendous price the country paid for its new sea—fourteen million dead, untold property destroyed—really offsets the asset we enjoy today. The heart of the continent, now open to the shipping of the world, was once dry and land-locked, cut off from the bustle of trade and the ferment of world culture. It would indeed seem odd to an American of the '50s or '60s of the last century to imagine sailors from the merchant fleets of every nation walking the streets of Denver, fresh ashore at Newport, only fifteen miles away. Or to imagine Lincoln, Fargo, Kansas City and Dallas as world ports and great manufacturing centers. Utterly beyond their ken would be Roswell, New Mexico; Benton, Wyoming; Westport, Missouri, and the other new ports of over a million inhabitants each which have developed on the new harbors of the inland sea.

Unimaginable too would have been the general growth of population in the states surrounding the new sea. As the water tables rose and manufacturing and trade moved in to take advantage of the just-created axis of world communication, a population explosion was touched off of which we are only now seeing the diminution. This new westering is to be ranked with the first surge of pioneers which created the American west. But what a difference! Vacation paradises bloom, a new fishing industry thrives; her water road is America's main artery of trade, and fleets of all the world sail ... where once the prairie schooner made its laborious and dusty way west

Albrecht and I went down in a shuttleship, leaving the stellatomic orbited pole-to-pole two thousand miles above Alpha Centauri's second planet. While we took an atmosphere-brushing approach which wouldn't burn off the shuttle's skin, we went as swiftly as we could. A week before we had completed man's first trip through hyperspace. We were now making the first landing on an inhabited planet of another sun. All the preliminary investigations had been made via electronspectroscopes and electrontelescopes from the stellatomic. We knew that the atmosphere was breathable and were reasonably certain that the peoples of the world into whose atmosphere we were dropping were at peace. We went unarmed, just the two of us; it might not be wise to go in force. We were silent, and I know that Harry Albrecht was as perplexed as I was over the fact that our all-wave receivers failed to pick up any signs of radio communication whatever. We had assumed that we would pick up signals of some type as soon as we had passed down through the unfamiliar planet's ionosphere. The scattered arrangement of the towering cities appeared to call for radio communications. The hundreds of atmosphere ships flashing along a system of airways between the cities seemed to indicate the existence of electronic navigational and landing aids. But perhaps the signals were all tightly beamed; we would know when we came lower. We dropped down into the airway levels, and still our receivers failed to pick up a signal of any sort—not even a whisper of static. And strangely, our radarscopes failed to record even a blip from their atmosphere ships! "I guess it's our equipment, Harry," I said. "It just doesn't seem to function in this atmosphere. We'll have to put Edwards to work on it when we go back upstairs." We spotted an airport on the outskirts of a large city. The runways were laid out with the precision of Earth's finest. I put our ship's nose eastward on a runway and took it down fast through a lull in the atmosphere ship traffic. As we went down I saw tiny buildings spotted on the field which surely housed electronic equipment, but our receivers remained silent. I taxied the shuttle up to an unloading ramp before the airport's terminal building and I killed the drive. "Harry," I said, "if it weren't that their ships are so outlandishly stubby and their buildings so outflung, we might well be on Earth!" "I agree, Captain. Strange, though, that they're not mobbing us. They couldn't take this delta-winged job for one of their ships!" It was strange. I looked up at the observation ramp's occupants—people who except for their bizarre dress might well be of Earth—and saw no curiosity in the eyes that sometimes swept across our position. "Be that as it may, Harry, we certainly should cause a stir in these pressure suits. Let's go!" We walked up to a dour-looking individual at a counter at the ramp's end. Clearing my throat, I said rather inanely, "Hello!"—but what does one say to an extrasolarian? I realized then that my voice seemed thunderous, that the only other sounds came from a distance: the city's noise, the atmosphere ships' engines on the horizon— The Centaurian ignored us. I looked at the atmosphere ships in the clear blue sky, at the Centaurians on the ramp who appeared to be conversing—and there was no sound from those planes, no sound from the people! "It's impossible," Harry said. "The atmosphere's nearly Earth-normal. It should be—well, damn it, it is as sound-conductive; we're talking, aren't we?" I looked up at the Centaurians again. They were looking excitedly westward. Some turned to companions. Mouths opened and closed to form words we could not hear. Wide eyes lowered, following something I could not see. Sick inside, I turned to Albrecht and read confirmation in his drawn, blanched face. "Captain," he said, "I suspected that we might find something like this when we first came out of hyperspace and the big sleep. The recorders showed we'd exceeded light-speed in normal space-time just after the transition. Einstein theorized that time would not pass as swiftly to those approaching light-speed. We could safely exceed that speed in hyperspace but should never have done so in normal space-time. Beyond light-speed time must conversely accelerate! "These people haven't seen us yet. They certainly just observed our landing. As we suspected, they probably do have speech and radio—but we can't pick up either. We're seconds ahead of them in time and we can't pick up from the past sounds of nearby origin or nearby signals radiated at light-speed. They'll see and hear us soon, but we'll never receive an answer from them! Our questions will come to them in their future but we can never pick answers from their past!" "Let's go, Harry," I said quickly. "Where?" he asked. "Where can we ever go that will be an improvement over this?" He was resigned. "Back into space," I said. "Back to circle this system at a near-light-speed. The computers should be able to determine how long and how slow we'll have to fly to cancel this out. If not, we are truly and forever lost!"

lost
in
the
future Did you ever wonder what might happen if mankind ever exceeded the speed of light? Here is a profound story based on that thought—a story which may well forecast one of the problems to be encountered in space travel

by ... John Victor Peterson

They had discovered a new planet—but its people did not see them until after they had traveled on  EARTH

dilluns, 28 de març de 2016

A new dictionary of the terms ancient and modern of the canting crew, in its several tribes, of Gypsies, beggers, thieves, cheats, &c., with an addition of some proverbs, phrases, figurative speeches, &c."UfefuS for all forts of People, ( efpecially Foreigners ) to fecurerheir Money and preferve their Lives i befides very Diverting and Enterraining, be- ing wholly Newr By B. E. Gene. LONDON, Pnnted fer W. Haves at the fyfe in F. Gilboitrn8& the Comer of Cbaneery-tane in (11 THE PREFACE. BEfore I prefent the Reader, with the following Di&iona- ry of the Beggers and Gyp fits Cant y I think it not amifs to premife a few Words concerning the Beg- gers and Gypfees themfelves, by way of an Hiftorical Account, of the Antiquity of the one, and the Uni- verfality of the other. It makes not a little for the Ho- nour of the Beggers, that their Ori- ginal according to fomc Accounts, is no lefs Ancient than that of Chrifti- A 2 The Preface. anhy it fdf 5 for in the Opinion of Chdwon, as the Slaves went off, the Beggers came in their Place. So much at leaft is granted, That the Jem who allowed of Slaves, had no Beggers. What toali we fay, but that if it be true ; that the Emanci- pating or Freeing of Slaves was in- deed the making of Beggers 5 it fol- lows that Chriftianity which is dai- ly employed in Redeeming Slaves from the Turk** Ranfom'd no lefe than all at once from Pogan Slavery at firft, at no dearer a Rate, than the Rent-charge of maintaining the Beg- gers, as the Price and Purchaceof our Freedoms. As for the Antiquity of the Eng- lift* Beggers, it may be obferved, That the firlt Statute wliich makes Provi- fion ibr the Parl/h-Poor, is no older than Queen Elizabeth $ from which it may be fairly Collected ^ That they The Preface, they cntrcd with us upon the Vi/b- hiion of the Abbey s> as with them abroad, upon the Delivery of the Slaves. For the G/ppes, they and the Foul Difeafe have alike the Fate to run through a Geography of flames, and to be made free of as many Cou&- m"e$,asalmoft there arc Languages to call them Names in 5 for as the trench call the Pox r the Italian Difeafe, they again give it to the Spaniards, as thefe to the French^ fo the French call the Gypfies Boemie, or Bohemians, belike, becaufe they made their firft Appea- rance in Bohemia of any Pan of Europe - y the Italians Name them Zingari or Saracens, the Spaniards llanos as we Egyptians 5 whether it be, that the Italians give them the Turks, as the Spaniards give them the Mm, as being both the next Neighbors to each 5 I take not up- on The Preface. on me to Determine, only it may be obferved, betwixt the Comple- ment of cither kind, the Odds is no greater than this, of giving a Nati- on a Clap, or of laying a brood of Baftards at it's Door. Though Holland has no Beggers, if the Dutch themfelves are not the greateft Beggers in the World ; and Switzerland has no Thieves, if the Swifs who are altogether Soldiers, arc not the greateft of Thieves. Yet, I fay, neither the States that are with- out Beggers, nor the Cantons that are without Thieves, are notwith- Handing either the one or the other, without Gypfies. So as what they want of Beggers and Thieves in point of Antiquity, the Gypfies claim a- bove both, in point of Univerfality, But though Gyffies are found in all Chriftian Countries, yet arc they not in all Countries alike j their Na- ture The Preface, ture and Genius being diverfe, in pro- portion to the Countries arndngft whom they Stroul 5 fo that the fame Queftion remains upon them, as is ftarted of the Winds, as Univerfa! Travellers as the Gjg/fo, that it feems a Doubt, Whether they partake more of the Nature of the Countries whence theyrife,orofthofe through which they Pafs? Nor is it alfo new to meet the Beggers and the Proverbs together, for the Fafhion is as old as Plautus, who puts the Proverbs and the Jefts in the Mouth of his Slaves. And in the Charader of SancboPancha, Cer- vantes has Trod in the feme Steps 5 in the Hiftory of Don Quixot, San- cho ' >eing diftinguifhed no lefe by his P jverbs, than his Affe. And be- tween the Slaves and che Beggers, the Difference is no greater, than be- tween Fathers and their Heirs. If The Preface. Tf fome Terms and Phrafes of better Quality and Fafhion, keep fo ill Company, as Tag-Rag and Long- Tail $ you are to remember, that it is no lefe then Cuftomary, for Great Per fans a broad to hide" themielves often in Difguifes among the Gypfies 5 and even the late L. of Roche fler a- mong us, when time was, among o- ther Trolicks, was not afhamed to keep the Gypfie* Company. ANEW A NEW DICTIONARY. A B A D AB A jfjL kedor poor Man, alfb alufty ftrongRogue. Abram-menj c. the fe- venteenth Order of the Canting-crew. Beggers antickly trick'd up with Ribbands, Red Tape, Foxtails, Rags, &c. pre- tending Madnefs to pal- liate theirThefts of Poul- trey, Lumen, e^c. A C Academy > c. a Bawdy- houfe,alfo ariUniverfity^ or School to learn Gen- teleman like Exereifes. Accutrernents, c. fine risging(now JforMen or Women,(former ly) only Trappings for Horfes. Well accoutred, c. gen- tilly drefi j d. Accept, and Acquifi- tion$ > the riglnts of For- tune purchaled by La- bour, Arts or Arms, oppos'd to Hereditary and Paternal . Afteon, a Cuckold. Acteorid, Cuckolded, Or made a Cuckold of, AD Water. A Jam -tiler, c a Pick- pocket's Camerade,who receives Stolen Money or Goods, and fcowers off with them. Addle-pate, one full of Whimftes and Projects, and as empty of Wit. B A F AJdle-plot< a Martin - Tftturto e adri ft, a Tar-phrafe ; lit pre vent ye doing me any ha rm. AF AffJa vit w*, Knights of thePoft, Mercenary Sweaters fdr Hire, , Inha- bitants ( formerly ) of White Friers, now drf petfed. Aft and Abaft, to wards the S tern, or hln der Part of the Ship. A I >ltf#tEndea vour orDe- fign.To*/V, or level ft a Mark,, be bos mift bis Aim or End. AirofaSong tlaeTune. Ait of A fact or Pic- tuxe, the Configuration and confent of Parts in each. Airy, Ligh t, brisk,plea~ fint ; alfb a Neft of Hawks He is an Fellow. A L A L Alabafter, mixt by all the knavifh Perfumers with the Hair-Powder they fell, to make it weigh heavy, being of it felf very cheap, that their Gain may be the greater, found dcftruc- tive to the Hair and Health Atfatia White Friers. Alfatla the higher, the fame. Alfatia the lower ^ the Mint in Southwark. Alfatians, the Inhabi- tant^ iuch as, broken GentlemerijTradefraen, &c. Lurking there. ABaf, the Embafing of a purer and finerMet- ", by mixing it with an inferior or coar fer Met- al, as of pale Gold with a Silver-Allay^ or of deep Gold with an Al- lay of Copper > alfo whatever is ufed to qua- "ify what is bitter or naufeous in Compoffti- oils, as gilding of Pills^ fiveeu AM Iweetning of Bolufes, or Powders. Aloft, above or over Head ; alfo anciently an Upper-room or Garret, now more us'd in Com- pounds, as Cock-loft >Hay- loft, 8CC. AltemaUt altogether. Altitudes, the Man is m bis Altitudes, he is Drunk. A M Ambidexter, one that goes ihacks in gaming with both Parties ; alfo a Lawyer that takes Fees of Plaintif and Defendant at once. Ambient- Air, Air a- broad opposed to that pent and fhut up in Wells, Vaults, Caves,cr. Or elfethe outward Air in the Houfe, opposed co thatlhut up in the Cavi- ties of Veffels, Glaffcs^ Vials, frc. Ambrol , among the Tarrs for Admiral, AmftibioUf Creatures of a doubtful kind- or of A N- a doable Element ; as a Bat is between a Bird and a Beaft ; an Otter between a Beaft and a Fifh, and a Puffin with the reft of the Sea-Fowl, between Fowl and Pifh. Amufo to throw drift in one's Eyes,, by divert- ing one from a ferious Thought to a pleafant one. Amttfe&ent, a Blind or Difengagement from deep Thoughts to mote Diverting. A N An Ar/fc, c. a Boat or Wherry. Angler^ c Cheats>pet- ty Thievs, who have a Stick with a hook ^ af the end, with which they pluck things out of Windows., Grates, &c. alfo thoie that draw ict People to be cheated. Animal^ a Fool. He it a meer Animal^ he is a very filly Fellow. Antechamber j/orefooms for receiving of Vifits, as the back and. Drawing B a Rooms A N Rooms are forLodgingS;, anciently called Dining- rooms. Antidote y a very home- ly Woman, alfo a medi- cine againft Povfori. Antmt* at Sea, for En/ign, or Flag. Anticks, lit le Images on $tone,on the ouc fide of old Churches. An- tick po/rures or Jre/es, luch as are odd, ridiculous and fmgular, the habits and motions of Fools, Zanies., or Merry-an- drews,of Mountebanks, with Ribbands , niif- matched colours and Feathers. Antiquary, a curaous Critick in old Coins Stones and Inscriptions inWorrn-eaten Records and ancientManufcripti, allb one that aifcds and blindly doat$,on Relicks, Ruins, old Cuftoms Phrafes and Fafhions. Antiquated- Rogue , Ol d 3 out of date, that has forgot or left off his Trade of Thieving, &c. alfo fuperannuated, ob A P oleteCaftoms ,.orWords, uch as are worn out, out of ufe and Fafhion. A P Aftrt y leverally, afin- der. Apartments, Rooms a- part, private Lodgings, inner Chambers, iecret and withdrawn from thd reft. Recefles of the Hioufe oppofed to the Ante-chambers. A R Arack, an Eaft-Indian Brandy, or Strong Spirit drawn from Rice, and ( fbmetimes ; Roes of Fifh, beft when old, much us d in Punch, the double diftiird Gw moft efteem'd. , AVitty. Pleafant. Whorre % Cunning. ^ -to bear* Arms, a ProfeOton not unbe- coming a Gentleman, for Books and Arms are GenrJemens Burdens. Armour AS Armour, in bis Armour Pot-valiant, y4r;/?;^j,aDiet-diink , or Decoction of Sarfa, China, &c. Sold at cer- tain Coffee-houfes., and drank as T Arfworm^ a little di- minutive Fellow. AS B A of my Aunts } one of the fame Order. Autem, c. a Church, alfo Married. Autem mort, c. a Mar- ried-woman, aifo the Twenty foui th Order of the Canting Tribe, Tra- velling, Begging (and often Stealing) about the Country,with one Child Afcendant, Power, In- 1 inArms another onBack, fluence, as, he has the Af- 1 and ( fometimes) lead- cenlant over him, or an I ing a third in the Hand. Hank upon him ; alfb I Auxiliary Ittauiy, Drcls, the Horofcope, or point Paint, Patches ., feeing of the Ecliptic that rifts I of Eye-brows, and lick at one's Nativity. | ing the Lipps with red. Affig, now us'd for Affignation,an Appoint- ment or meeting. Affuming > conceited , as, an AJfum'mg Fellow, one that abounds in his own Senfe, and B a great Talk- er. ie, aaaimpo- Bac^de&djs kewMes fe it upon every Man U old Man backt, he ^i ^ longs ro have his Father AJJurance, Confidence, upon fix Mem fhoulders, , a Man of A/urance, or as his Back's up, he is one that has a ftock of i na funie 3 or angry. Confidence. Bacon, K he Java his Bacon, he has efcapd with a whole Skin. A Aunty a Bawd, as one \good voice to beg Bacon B 3 (aid _ BA faid in jear of an ill voice. Badge, a mark of Diftindion among poor People ; aSjPorters, Wa- ter-merij Parilh-Penfi- oners and Hofpital-boys, Blew-coats and Badges being the ancient Livries.

that buy 
up a quantity of Corn 
and hoard it up in the 
feme Market, till the 
price riles; or carry it to 
another, vvhere it bears 
a better. Allb a Beaft for 
i'port, Badger Earthcth, 



' y an ill bout 
bargain, or bufinefs. 

Baffit, to worft., or de- 
feat. A baffled Caufe 
worfted } deteated. 

Baggage, a Whore o 
Slur. 

Bagonet or Burnt, , 
Dagger. 

Bail-dock, the place 5i 
the Court, where tin 
Prifoners are kept ti 
called to be Arraiga'd. 

Balfom, c. Money. 

BaMfrJafoi ill, unplea 



B A 

antj unwholefom mix- 
ures of Wine, Ale,, &c.- 
Ranbwy-ftorytf aCock 
and a Bull filly chat. 

Banditti y Highway- 
men,, fHorfe or Foot) 
Rogues of any kind^now, 
>ut ftridly Italian Out- 
aws. 

Bandog, a Bailiff, or 
lis Follower, a Serge- 
ant, or his Yeoman ; al- 
o a very fierce Maftive, 

Bandore , a Widows^ 
nxotirning Peak ; alfb a 
Mufical Inftrument. 

Bandy, a play at Ball 
with a Bat ; alfb to fol- 
low a Fadion. 

Bandy-leggd, crooked. 

Bang, a blow 3 to Bang* 
to, beat. 

Banittas, a Seed grow- 
ing in a Cod/ fomewhac 
refembling a Kidney- 
bean, on Trees in the /- 
die s, much tis'd in Cho- 
colate. 

Banter,*, pleafant way 
of prating, which feerrrs 
in earneft, but is in jeft, 
a fort of ridicule. What 
do you banter me ? i. e. do 
you pretend to impoie 
upon 



B A 

upon me, or to expofe 
me to the Company, 
and I not know your 
meaning. 

BantUng y a Child. 

Barker, a Salefman's 
Servant that walks be- 
fore the Shop; and cries, 
Cloaks,Coats,or Gowns, 
what d'ye lack^ Sir ? 

Barketb, the Noife a 
Fox makes at Rutting 
time. 

Barnacle^ c. a good 
job, or a fhack eafily 
got, alfo Fifh growing 
on Ships fides when foul^ 
and a Brake for unruly 
Horfes Nofes, alfo the 
Gratuity to Jockeys, for 
felling or buying Horfes. 

BarnadcleSjC. the Irons 
Fellons wear in Goal. 

Bar-wig, between a 
bob and a long one. 

BaJJet . a Game at 
Cards. 

Bafte, to beat, as, Pit 
la/te your fttles Sirrab, FH 
bang you luiHly. 

BafconaelQ~ingj a Cud- 
gelling. 

Batten, c. to Fatten. 

Banner, c. an Ox. 



B A 

Batter, the Ingredi- 
ents for a Pudding or 
Pan-cake,when they are 
all mixt and ftirred to- 
gether. 



alfo, ftriking with the 
Edge and feble of one's 
Sword^ upon the edge 
and felk of his Adver- 
faries. 

Batter'd-bulfy, an old 
well cudgell'd and bruis'd 
huffing Fellow. 

Baubee, a half-penny. 

Baubeh, c. Jewels, al- 
fo trifles and-Childrens 
Play-things. 

Bawdy-barketSy c. the 
Twenty third Rank of 
Canters , with Pins, 
Tape, Obfcene Books, 
&c, to fell, but Jive more 
by Stealing. 

Bawdy-batckelors, that 
live long Unmarried. 



very fmall one, 

Bay-windows, emb ow- 
ed, as of old, landing 
out from the reft of the 
Building, Stand at bag, 
as Deer wi|l,when dole- 
ly purfued, or being 
B-4 hard 



B E 

hard run, turn Head a- 
gaintt the Hounds. 

B E 

Beach the Sea-fhore. 
or Strand. 

Bear-gar den-difc our fe , 
common, filthy, nafty 
Talk. If if had been a 
Bear it would have bit 
jotiy of him that makes a 
cloie iearch after what 
juft lies under his Nofe. 
As good take a Bear by the 
Tooth&t a bold defperarc 
Undertaking. Go like 
tbe Bear to the Stake, or 
hang an Arfe. As man} 
tricks as a dancing Bear. 
or more than are good. 

Bear d ff lifter ^nenjoy - 
er of Women. 

Beatethy the noife a 
Hare makes at Rutting 
time. 

Beating, ftriking the 
Febk of the Adverfary's 
Sword, with the Fort and 
edge of one's own. 

Beau, a filly Fellow 
that Follows the Fafhions 
nicely, Powdering his 
Neck, Shoulders, <*, 



BE 

Beautrafj a Sharper. 

Beck. c. a Beedle. 

Beetk-he-ad 9 ' a heavy 
dull Block-head. 

Beldam, a fcolding old 
Woman. 

Belle , a nice, gay, 
fluttring foolifh Woman 
that follows every Fafh- 
ion, allb fair. 

Bettowetb, fee Roe. 

BeUy-clcat , c. an A- 
pron. 

jB^,all Mault drinks. 

Belweatber, chief or 
Leader of the Flock, 
Maftei 4 of mifrule, alib 
a clamorous noify Man. 

Btne. c. good. 

Rene-cove, c. a good 
Fellow. 

Bene-flrif, c. very good, 
aHb Worfhip. 

Bene-bowfe, c. ftrong 
Liquor, or very good 
Drink. 

Bene-darkmansyC. good 
night. 

Benfeake'rs of Oyoes^ c. 
Counterfeiters of Paffes. 

Benefit of Clergy, fee 
Neck-verfe. 

Ben, a Fool. 

Foolifh. 



B I 



B I 



Beftde-himfelf, diffract- 
ed, te/uk the Cu(hion, a 
rm&&Q,beficletke Light er, 
in a bad condition. 

Befom, a Broom. 

Beftridy Mounted or 
got up aftride. 

Befs, c, bring befs and 
c. forget not the 
iment to break o- 
pen the. Door and the 
Dark-Ianthorn. 

Betty,c. a fmall Engin 
to force open the Doors 
of Houfes ; alfb, a quar- 
ter Flask of Wine. 

Bever> an afternoon's 
Lunchion. 

Beveridge, a Garnifh : 
money, for any thing; 
alfo Wine and Water. 

By, a company of 
Roes, Quails, &c. Bevy 
Greafe. Roes fat. 

Bewildred, at a ftand 
or nonplus in Bufineis, 
not knowing what to 
do, aiib loft in a Wood 

B I 

1&/^X, a Chicken^ alfo 
Bridget. 

/^choice Barley-ma 
king^ the beft Mault 



Biggin > a Woman's 
oif. 

Biggot, an obftinate 
blind Zealot. 

Bigrotry, an obftinate 
blind Zeal. 

Bil-boa, c. a Sword. 

Bit e theBilfrom tbeCull 
c. whip the Sword from 
the Gentleman's fide. 

Bilk, c. to cheat. EiJk 
tie Ratling-cove > c. to 
fliarp the Coach-man of 
his hire. 

Bilk'J, c. defeated, 
difappointed. 

Billeting, Foxes Excre 
ments. Billeting of Soldi 
ers, Quartering them. 

Billet-doux, a Love 
letter. 

Bill-of-fAle, a Bandore, 
or Widow's Peak. 

Bill'mgfgate-JiaUft , 
Scold ingj ill Language, 
foul Words. 

Binding^ fecuring the 
Adverfary j s Sword with 
Eight or ten Inches of 
one's one, upon Five or 
fix of his. 



c. to go., c. 
waft> c. get you 
hence. Bingd twaf in 



B I 

a Varkmans, c. ftole a- 
way in the Night-time. 
Bing we to Rume vile, c 
go we to London. 

BingO) c. Brandy. 

Bingo-boy, c. a great 
Drinker or Lover there- 
of. 

Bingo-club, C. a iet of 
Rakes > Lovers of that 
Liquor. 

Birds of a Feather, c. 
Rogues of the lame 
gang ; alfb, thole of the 
fame Profeflion, Trade 
or Employment. To kill 
two SriJs with one Stone., 
to difpatch two Bufinef 
fe5 at one Stroke. 

BirJ-pittcJ, Wlld- 
headodjnotSolid or Stay- 
ed^ oppofed to a Sober- 
Wit. 

Btt,c. Robb'd, Cheat- 
ed or Out-witted Alfb 
Drunk, as, he has bit his 
Ornr.wam' 9 he is very 
Drunk. Btt the Blow, c 
accompltfh'd theTheft, 
plaied theCheat,or done 
the Feat : Ton have Bit -A 
great Blow, c. you have 
Robfrd fome body of a 
great deal, ortoacon- 
fiderable value, 



B L 

Bite, c. a Rogue.,Shar- 
per or Cheat ; alfo a 
Womans Privities. 

Bite the Biter, c. to 
Rob the Rogue, Sharp 
the Sharper, or Cheat 
the Cheater. 

Bite the Cully y c. to 
put the cheat on the fil~ 
!y Fellow. 

Bite the Roger, c. to 
Steal the Portmanteau. 
Bite the Wiper , c. to Steal 
the Hand -kerchief. The 
Cull ufapt the Merts bite* 
c. the Fellow enjoyed 
the Whore briskly. He 
will not bite y or {wallow 
the Bait. He won't be 
drawn in, to bite on the 
bit$ to be pinched, or 
reduced to hard Meat, 
a icanty or lorry fort of 
Living. 

Bitter-col J, very Cold, 

B L 

Black and, White, un- 
der one's Hand, or in 
Writing, 

Blab, B. Sieve of Se- 
crets, a very prating Fel- 
low that tells all he 
knows. 



B L 

Black-box, a Lawyer. 

Black-coat, a Parfbn. 

Black-guard 3 Dirty, 
Nafty, Tatter'd roguiih 
Boys, that attend (at 
the Horfe-Guards ) to 
wipe Shoes, clean Boots, 
water Horfes, or run of 
Errands. 

Blackjack, a Leather- 
Jug to drink in. 

Mack-Indies, Newca- 
ftle., from whence the 
Coals are brought. 

Blackmuns, C. Hoods 
and Scarves of Alamode 
and Luftrings. 

Black-mouth $ou\, .rna- 
licious, Railing., or Re- 
flecting. 

Blacken, to blaft or a- 
fperfe. 

Black-fpy, c. the Devil. 

Blank, baffled, down- 
look't., fheepiih^ guilty. 

Bleak, (harp, piercing 
Weather. 

Bleach, to whiten. 

Bleaters, c. they that 

are cheated by Jack-in- 

abox. 

Bleating f^tf.,c.aShee 

Bhtct freely, C. part 
with their Money eafily. 



B L 



Hounds 
or Beagles find where 
he Ghace has been, and 
make a proffer to enter, 
xit return. 

Blew-John, Wafli,, or 
A.fterwort. 

BK vJ-cbeeks,t\\eiB reech. 
Blind-checks, K& 
my Ar 

Blind-excufe , a lorry 
(hift. A Blind Ale-houfe, 
or Blind Lane, obfcure,of 
no Sign,TokenorMark 

Blind barf ers, c. Beg- 
_:ers counterfeiting blind- 
nefs, with Harps or Fid- 
dles. 

Blin d -mans-bufffi play 
us'd by Children blind- 
''bided. Bluffed, contract. 
cd from Blind -manVbuf 
ic that is Blinded in the 
Play. 

Blind- mans - boliJajj 
when it is too dark to 
fee to Work. 

Blind /F^every Man's 
weak Part. 

Bloated, Smoked Her- 

1 ings 5 alfo^one puffed or 

fwelled with falfe Far, 

and has not a Healthy 

Complexion. 

Blob 



B L 

Blobbcr-lippd, very 
thick, hanging down,or 
turning over. 

Block j a filly Fellow. 

Biock-boufes^c. Prifbns, 
alfo Forts upon Rivers. 

Blocktfb, Stupid. 

Bbckfccki See Block. 

Blofs, c. a Thief or 
Shop-lift, alfo,a Bulhes 
pretended Wife, or Mit- 
trefi, whom he guards, 
and who by her Tra- 
ding ftpports him,allb a 
Whore. 

Blot the Skr'tf and jarb 
it, c to ftand Engaged 
or be Bound for any 
body. 

Blot in tbeTables,what 
is fair to be hit. 

Blot in A Scutcheon, a 
blemifli or imputation 
upon any one. 

Bloud) 'twill breed ill 
Bloud) cf what will pro- 
duce a mifundcrltanding 
or Difference. 

Blower .1 Miftiefs.al 
fo a Whore. 

Blowing, c. tbef&we. 

3low-cjf-0n the groun 
Jills, c. to lie with a Wo- 
man on the Floor or 
Stairs. 



BL 

Bhian upon, feen by 
-feveral. or flighted ; not 
blown upoit) a Ucret piece 
of News or Poetry, that 
has not taken air, fpick 
and fpan-new. To blow 
Hot and Cold with a 
Breath, or play faft and 
loofe, 

Blow off the loofe corns, 
c. to Lie now and then 
with i Woman. It is 
blow d t c. it is made pub- 
lick, and all have notice. 

Blubber , Whale-oyl , 
( imperfed:. ) 

Blubbering,mudn. Cry- 
ing 

Bluffer, c. a HolVnn- 
keeper or Victualler, to 
look bluff, to look big, or 
like Bull-beef. 

Blunder j an Ignorant 



Blunderbufs, a Duncc_, 
anunganely Fellow, alfb 
a fhort Gun carrying 
Twenty Piftol-Bullers at 
one Charge. 

Blufier^o huff, a bluf- 
tring Fellow, a rude rat 
HngFellow. 

Boor, fee wild Boar. 

B.O 



B O 



B O 

Boarding-fihool, c. Bride- 
well. 

Boarding - fchoJars , c. 
Bridewell-birds. 

Bob, c. a Shop-lift's 
camrade, affiftant, or re- 
ceiver , allb a very (hort 
Periwig,and for Robert, 
Its all bob, c. all is fife, 
the Bet isfecured 

BoVd y c. Cheated, 
Trick'd, Difappointed, 
or Baulk'd. 

Bob-tail, a light Wo- 
man , alfb a ftiorc Ar- 
row-head. 

Bode-ill, to prelage or 
betoken ill. Alfoinflb/- 
land, a '-Bode, is a Meffin- 
ger,attending theBurgo- 
Mafters, and executing 
their Orders. 

BoMe$ix make a Pen- 
ney, Scotch Coin. 

Boer, a Conn try -Pel 
low or Clown. 



nerly, Clownifh. 

Boggs, Irifh Faftnef- 
fes orMarfhes. 

Bog-kvufet, Privies, 



B O 

Bog-lander s,Infh Men. 

Bog-trotters, Scotch or 
North Country Mols- 
troopers or High-way 
Men formerly, and now 
Irifh Men. 

Boifterous Fellow or, 
Sea, Bluftering,, Rude, 
Rough. 

Boldface , Impudent. 
A Bold Harbour, where 
Ships may Ride at An- 
chor with fefety, a bold 
Shore where Ships may 
Sail fecurely. 

Bolter of White Frier s<C. 
one that Peeps out, but 
dares not venture a- 
broad, as a Coney bolts 
out of the Hole in a 
Warren, and flarts back 
again. 

*- Bolting^ the leaping by 
one's AdverlaryV Left- 
fide quite out of all mea- 
fare. 

Boh/frit, a Nofe. H& 
has broke his Boltfprit, he 
has loft his Nole wich 
the Pox, 

Bontbaft - poetry , in 
Words of lofty Sound 
and humble Senfe. 

Bone, c. toApprehend, 
Seize, 



B O 

Seize, Take or Atteft. 
tllBoneye>c.V\\ caufe you 
tobeAfreftcd. We jhall 
b& BondyCWt (hall beAp- 
prehended for the Rob- 
bery. The Cove is Bond 
and gon to tie Whit, c. the 
Rogue Is taken up and 
carried to Newgate, or 
any other Goal. The 
Cull has Bond the Fen, 
( for Fence ) or Blofs 
that lit the Blow, C. the 
Man has Taken the 
Thief that Robb'd his 
Houfe, Shop., or Pickt 
bis Pocket He has bit 
his Blow, but if he be 
Bvrid, hs mufl JJto'ue the 
Tumbler ,c.he hasStole the 
Goods/>r done the Feat, 
but if he be Taken., he'll 
be Whipt at the Cart- 
tail. J have Bond hey 
Diidds FaggcijinJ BruMd, 
c. I have took away my 
Mifcrefs Cioathcs, Beat 
her, and am troop'd off. 
Boning the Fence, c. find- 
ing tnc Goods where 
Concealed, and Seizing, 
he -made no. bones of it, he 
fwaliow'd ic without 
Diinking after it. 



B O 

Bonny - clapper, fbwer 
Butter-milk. 

Booty, a dull heavy 
Lob. 

Booberkin, the lame. 

Boon, a Gift, Reward, 
or Gratification. 

Boon-companion, a mer- 
ry Drinking Fellow. 

Boot ScotchTorture, 
or Rack, for the Leg, is 
to draw to Confeffion. 

What Boots it? What 
Avails it ? 

Booty /^,Falfe,Cheat- 
ing, alib Plunder, he 
Bowls Booty, when great 
Odds are laid, and he 
goes Halves, his Caftis 
deligned by Bad. 

Boracho,* But,a Drua- 
kird^ and a Hogskin. 

Borde y c. a Shilling, 
half a Borde, c. Sixpence. 

Bordel-lo _, a Bawdy- 
Houfe. 

Borefon or Baufon 9 a 
Badger. 

Bottle-head , void of 
Wit. 

Bottom, a Adan of no 

Bottom, of no Bails of 

Principles, or no fetde- 

ment of Fortune, or of 

no 



B 

no Ground in his Art. 
Lit every Tub ftand on 
Us own Bottom, or every 
one look to his own foot- 
ing. A Tale of a Tub with 
tk Bottom out & flee vel eft 
frivolous Tale. 

Boughs, be is tip in tie 
Boughs, or a top of the 
Houje, of one upon the 
Rant, or in a great Fer- 
ment. 

Bounce, to boaft and 
vapour. A meer Bounce, 
a Swaggering Fellow. 

Bouncer ,c. a Bully. 

Bmt y a Tryal ^ Ad, 
Eflay. 

Bowfe, c. Drink, or ro 
Drink, fee Benbowfe and 
Rxmbowfc. 

Bowfy. c. Drunk. We 
Bow id it about, we Drank 
damn'd hard. 

Bouifingken, C. an Ale- 
houfe. Tie Cnl tip us 
a Hog; which we melted in 
Rumbowje, c. the Gen- 
llemangave usaShilling, 
which we fpent if 
Strong Dink. 

Box jo Fighr with the 
Fills. Box it about Boys 
Drink briskly round 



B R 



# a wrong Bow, of one 
that has taken wrong 
meafures^or made alie 
leps. A fretty Box, a, 
Compleat little Houfe., 
alfo a Jmall drinking 
place. 

B R 

Bracket-face , Ugly , 
Homely, Illfavor'd. 

Bragget, Meed 7 and 
Ale ttveetned with 
bloney. 

Brag, Braggadocio, A 
vapouring, Swaggering, 
Bullying Fellow. 

Brat, a little Child. 
Branchers , Ca nary- 
Birds of the firft Year. 

Bravado, a Vapour- 
ing, or Bouncing. 

Bravo, a Mercenary 
Murderer, that will Kill 
any Body. 

Brawl, Squabble^ or 
Quarrel. To Brawls, and 
Brawl, to Squabble and 
Scold. 

Brazen - fac^d, Bold, 
Impudent, Audacious. 

Bread and Cbeefe Bow- 

lwg-gre.e-n, a very ord'na- 

ry one, \vhere they play 

for 



B R 



B R 



for Drink and Tobacco. 
all wet, as 'tis called. 

Bread and Cbeefe Con- 
fables, that trats their 
Neighbors and Friends 
at . their coming into 
Office with fuch mean 
Food only. 

Breaking Shins, c. bor- 
rowing ot Money., 

Breaft y in the breap of 
1hc 74^>whot he keeps 
in Referve, or Sufpence. 

Briers, in the Briers > 
in trouble. 

Brook, he cannot brook 
it, bear or endure ir. 

Brickie, Brittle, apt to 
Break. 

Briftol-milk, Sherry. 

Brifol-ftwe, Sham-Di- 
amonds. 

Broached, Opinion or 
Dodrine ., Publifhed , 
Divulged. 

Brimming^ Boor's co- 
pulating with a Sow., 
aifo now us'd for a 
Man's with 

Brim, or Bnmjtone^ .a 
very Impudent, Lew'd 
Woman. 

Brock, fee Harr. 

Brock's Sifter > fee Hind. 



Broke, Officers turn 'd 
out of Commiffion/Tra- 
ders Abfconding , Quit- 
ting their Bufinefs and 
Pay ing no Debts. 

Bromigbam - confciencc, 
very bad^ Bromigbani- 
Diflenters or 



.rQmgam~, 
Balderdafh, Sophifticate 
Taplafli. 

Brother-parting , that 
Lies with the lame Wo- 
man^ or Builds in the 
fame Neft. 

Blade, aS word- 

Man or Sol- 

dier. 
Gu/tt, a Pimp, 

Procurer, al- 
Brother \ fo, a Whore- 
of the Mafter. 

Quill, of the 

Scribbling 

Tribe. 



3 , 

orMufician. 

Brothel-hwfe ^ Bawdy 
Houfe. 

Brow-beat, to Cow, to 
Daunt, to awe with Big 
Looks, or Snub. 



B U 

Brown-ftudy , a Deep 
Thought orSpeculation. 

Brteflj , c. to Fly or 
Run away. The Cully is 
Bruflit or Rub'd, c. the 
Fellow is march'd off,or 
Broke. Bought a Britfk,c, 
Run away : Alib a iinall 
Faggot, to light theo- 
ther at Taverns,, and 
a Fox's Tail. 

Brujher, c. an exceed- 
ing full Glafs". 

BU 

But>, c. Drink. Rum- 
bub, c. very good Tip. 

Bub, or Bubble., c. 
one .that is Cheated; 
alfo anEafy,Sofc Fel- 
low. 

Bubber, c. a drinking 
Bowl ;alfb a greatDrin- 
ker, and he that ufed 
to Steal Plate from Pub- 
lick-houfes. 

Bube, c. the Pox. The 
Mort has tifttbe Bube up- 
on the Cully ^c the Wench 
has Clapt the Fellow. 

Buckaneers , Weft-In- 
dian Pirates, of feveral 
Nations ; alfb the Rude 
Rabble in Jamaica. 



BU 

Buckle, to Bend or 
give Way. He'll buckle to 
no Man, he won't Yield 
or Stoop to any Man. 

Buck, Great Buck, the 
Sixth Year. Buck of the 
frft Head, the Fifth 
Year, a Sw?, the Fourth 
Year, a Soril, the Third 
Year, a Pricket, the Se- 
cond Year, a Fawn, the 
Firft Year. A Buck Lodg- 
etb. Rouze the Buck, Di 
lodge him. A Bttck 
Grownetb or Troateth^ 
makes aNoife at Rutting 
time. 

Buck-ftches,c. old Lea- 
cherous, Nafty , Stinking 
Fellows; alfo He Pole- 
cats, and their Fur 

Buck's Face) a Cuck- 
old. 

Buck, Copulation of 
Conies 

Buckfom, Wanton, 
Merry. 

Budge 3 c. one that flips 
into an Houfe in the 
Dark,and takech Cloaks, 
CoatSj or what comes 
next to Hand, march- 
ing off with them ; alfo 
Lambs-fur AND TO STIR OR MOVE 

O FIM DO MUNDO NO ANO 2000 ESCRITO EM 1927 E OUTROS 100 LIVROS QUE SÓ O AUTHOR LEU NÉ - RECORDAÇÕES PARA A VELHICE 1908 VERSOS - DITOSA PÁTRIA 1911 RESCALDO 1926 A NOITE DO CASINO PLAQUETA DE VERSO 1927 IMPRESSÕES DE GUERRA 1918 A RÚSSIA BOLCHEVIQUE O CRIME DA RUA DA ESPERANÇA NOVELA . HISTÓRIA DA ASSOCIAÇÃO COMERCIAL DE LISBOA GUERRA DE ESPANHA LISBOA DO MEU TEMPO E DO PASSADO 1º 2º LISBOA-SEVILHA 1930-1931 PARA 1919 EM SERVIÇO DA CRUZ VERMELHA CAMILIANA DE 1911 A 1925 CABRAL (ALEXANDRE) - "Dicionário de Camilo Castelo Branco", Caminho, 1989 - CABRAL (ANTÓNIO) - "Camilo de perfil" (1914); "Camillo desconhecido" (1918) e "As polémicas de Camilo" (1925) - [Camilo C. Branco ?] - CATÁLOGO da preciosa Livraria do eminente escriptor Camillo Castelo Branco, ...,Mattos Moreira & Cardosos, Lisboa, 1883, 4-80 p. - "IN MEMORIAM DE CAMILLO" - Edição de Ventura Abrantes, Lisboa, 1925 - LIMA CALHEIROS (JOSÉ PEDRO DE) - "Catálogo das obras de Camilo Castelo Branco, Visconde de Correa Botelho", Porto, 1889 [e ainda de ...] "Additamento e continuação das obras de Camillo Castelo Barnco, Porto, 1890 - MARQUES (HENRIQUE) - "Bibliographia Camiliana", 1ª parte, Lisboa, 1894 - MARQUES (HENRIQUE) - "As tiragens especiaes da obra de Camillo", in A Revista, Porto, 1903-1904 - MOTA (JOÃO XAVIER DA) - "Camilliana. Colecção das obras de Camillo Castelo Branco", Rio de Janeiro, 1891 - NEVES (ALVARO) - "Camillo Castello Branco - Notas à margem em vários livros da sua biblioteva recolhidas por ...", Lisboa, 1916, 161 p. - NEVES (ALVARO) - "Estudos Camillianos - Bibliographia e Bibliotheconomia", Lisboa, 1917, 16 p. - PIMENTEL (ALBERTO) - "O romance de romancista" (1890) e "Os amores de Camillo" (1899) - SANTOS (MANOEL DOS) - "Revista Bibliografica Camiliana", Lisboa, 1916, III vols - SANTOS (JOSÉ DOS) - "Descrição bibliográfica da mais importante e valiosa Camiliana que até hoje tem aparecido à venda no mercado compreendendo tôdas as obras originais, traduzidas ou prefaciadas por Camilo Castelo Branco tanto em suas primeiras como em susequentes edições"", Lisboa, 1939 “Dizia um filósofo humanitário a certo povo infeliz: ‘Sede melhores, e vós sereis mais felizes’. E o povo respondeu ao filósofo humanitário: ‘Fazei-nos mais felizes, e nós seremos melhores” [C.C.B., in A Verdade, 1856] “Que me importa a mim o futuro? Caído por este desfiladeiro da vida , com os olhos fitos lá em baixo na terá negra do túmulo, - que tenho eu contigo, futuro? (…) Eu sou do passado: ficou-me lá o espírito; amo o tempo que foi: vivi então mil séculos num instante – amarguei-os, mas que importa?” [C.C.B., in O Nacional, 1948] “É inegável que somos europeus, e até podemos avançar que se fala de nós lá fora como um povo civilizado (…) Caminhamos airosamente na via láctea do progresso, porque as estradas cá em baixo o mais que podem é pôr-nos em contacto com o progresso dos antípodas por meio dos abismos insondáveis que o macadame aperfeiçoou (…) Temos tudo quanto podem ambicionar os netos daqueles que civilizaram mundos novos. Só nos falta – diga-se a verdade sem presunção – falta-nos uma pequena coisa, que faça os homens bons: falta-nos a virtude e a moral; falta-nos o respeito à lei, e a lei que deva respeitar-se; falta-nos esse quasi nada que faz dum povo de traficantes e de corruptos uma sociedade de irmãos e amigos “ [C.C.B., in O Portuense, 1853] Camilo por Tossan Camilo por Tossan Ano de emissão:1925 Centenário do nascimento de Camilo. Desenho de Alberto Sousa Da Fotografia União, do Porto (1882) Camilo Castelo Branco, desenho de Manuel Macedo Centenário do Marquez de Pombal ... sl, sd, 4 pgs de 45X31 cm Escrito de Camilo de grande raridade Muito raro opúsculo de Camilo "Maria! Não me mates que sou tua mãi!", 1848 Revista Bibliográfica Camiliana Camilo na "Revista Ilustrada"

JOÃO XAVIER DA MOTTA



Camilleana



EDITOR ANTONIO D'ALMEIDA





CAMILLEANA





Tiragem de 200 exemplares.





João Xavier da Motta

CAMILLEANA

COLLECÇÃO

das Obras de

CAMILLO CASTELLO BRANCO




RIO DE JANEIRO
Companhia Impressora, Rua Nova do Ouvidor n. 7
1891
Á
MEMORIA
DE
Camillo Castello Branco
Quão doce é o louvor, e a justa gloria
Dos proprios feitos, quando são soados!
Qualquer nobre trabalha, que em memoria
Vença, ou iguale os grandes já passados.
Camões.
Esta pequena peça, mal polida, offerecemol'a aos contemporaneos para o monumento que começam a levantar á memoria do genial escriptor e estylista insigne--Camillo Castello Branco--aquelle que, com o seu pujante talento e vasta imaginação, produzio o maior e mais iriado fóco da opulenta litteratura que tem como centro as irradiantes e preciosissimas joias do immortal cantor das lusas glorias!
Rio, 10 de Março de 1891.
O Auctor.

CAMILLEANA

Aqui ergue-se a mente, e do cume da idéa
vê estrellejar de um Deus a face gigantêa.
Visconde de Castilho--Julio
Abençoadas lagrimas!. Drama. Lisboa 1861. 2ª edição, Lisboa 1866. 1 vol.
Agostinho de Ceuta. Drama. Bragança 1847, 2ª edição, emendada, Porto 1858. 3ª edição, emendada, Porto 1887. 1 vol.
Agulha em palheiro. Rio de Janeiro 1863. 2ª edição, revista pelo auctor, Porto 1865. 3ª edição, Porto 1888. 1 vol.1
Amor de perdição. Porto 1862. 2ª edição, melhorada e revista pelo auctor, Porto 1864. 3ª edição, Porto 1870. 4ª edição, Porto 1876. 5ª edição, prefaciada e revista pelo auctor, Porto 1879. 1 vol.
Amor de salvação. Porto 1864. 2ª edição, Porto 1874. 3ª edição, Porto 1887. 1 vol.
Amores (Os) do diabo. Traducção. Porto 1872. 1 vol.
Anathema. Porto 1851. 2ª edição, emendada, Porto 1858. 3ª edição, Porto 1875. 1 vol.
Annos de prosa. Porto 1863. Lisboa, sem data. 1 vol.2
Antonio (D.) Alves Martins, bispo de Vizeu. Esboço biographico. Porto 1870. 1 vol.
Ao anoitecer da vida. Ultimos versos. Lisboa 1874. 1 vol.
Assassino (O) de Macario. Comedia. Versão. Porto 1886. 1 vol.
Aventuras de Bazilio Fernandes Enxertado. Lisboa 1863. 2ª edição, Lisboa 1872. 1 vol.
Bem (O) e o mal. Porto 1863. Lisboa, sem data, 3ª edição, revista e emendada pelo auctor, Lisboa 1877. 1 vol.
Biographia de Camillo Castello Branco. Com o retrato do biographado. Por J. C. Vieira de Castro. Porto 1861, 2ª edição, correcta e augmentada, Porto 1862. 1 vol.3
Bohemia do espirito. Com o retrato do auctor. Porto 1886. 1 vol.:
Mad. de Paiva. Impressionissimo: Duas paginas das minhas memorias d'além da campa; O jazigo de A. Herculano; Os jesuitas e a restauração de 1640; Scenas d'um drama intitulado Tentaçoens de serpente; D. Francisco Manoel de Mello4; Delicta sinectutis meoe; A espada de Alexandre5; Luiz de Camões6. Esboços de perfis litterarios-Guilhermino de Barros, Alves Mendes, Manoel de Mello, Carlos Braga, José Augusto Vieira, Augusto Gama, Narciso de Lacerda. A senhora Rattazzi7. Sebenta, bollas e bullas8. A prelecção do snr. doutor Avelino Cesar Callisto, O folheto do snr. dr. Callisto, A cavallaria da Sebenta, Preludio. Aos senhores priores. Kermesses e centenarios-Fel convertido em balsamo, Sanguinarios sanctos, No Bom Jesus, Comparações, Castilho republicano, Illma. e Exma. Snra. D. Maria Amalia Vaz de Carvalho. Modelo de polemica portuguesa9.
Brazileira (A) de Prazins. Porto 1882. 1 vol.
Brilhantes (Os) do brazileiro. Lisboa, sem data (1869), 2ª edição, revista e correcta pelo auctor, Lisboa, sem data. 1 vol.
Brocas (Os),10
Bruxa (A) do monte Cordova. Lisboa, sem data (1867). 1 vol.
Caleche (O). Porto 1849?. 1 vol.
Cancioneiro alegre de poetas portuguezes e brazileiros. Porto 187911. 2ª edição, seguida de Os criticos do Cancioneiro alegre, Porto 1887. 1 vol. :
Alexandre da Conceição, Alfredo de Carvalhaes, Alvares de Azevedo, Anonymo, Anthero de Quental, Augusto Soromenho, Azevedo Castello Branco, Barão de Roussado, Bocage, Braz Luiz d'Abreu, Bulhão Pato, Cabedo (Antonio de), Camillo Castello Branco, Camões, Cascaes, Casimiro d'Abreu, Claudio José Nunes, Conde d'Azevedo, Correia d'Almeida, Diogo de Macedo, Donnas Boto, Duarte d'Almeida, Fagundes Varella, Faustino Xavier de Novaes, Fernando Caldeira, Filgueiras, Francisco Palha, Franco de Sá, Garção, Gil Vicente, Girão (Antonio Luiz Ferreira), Gomes d'Amorim, Gomes Leal, Gonçalves Crespo, Gonçalves Dias, Guerra Junqueiro, Guilherme d'Azevedo, Guilherme Braga, João de Deus, João Penha, Jorge d'Aguiar, Moniz Barreto, Nunes da Ponte, Palmeirim, Papança, Paredes, Paulino Cabral, Pedro Diniz, Sá Coutinho, Simões Dias, Sousa Andrade, Thomaz Pinto Brandão, Thomaz Ribeiro, Vidal, Visconde d'Almeida Garrett, Visconde de Castilho, Visconde da Pedra Branca, Viterbo, Xavier da Cunha.
Carlota Angela. Vianna 1858. 2ª edição, Porto 1860. 2ª edição, melhorada, Lisboa 1864. 3ª edição, Porto 1874. 1 vol.
Carrasco (O) de Victor Hugo José Alves. Porto 1872. 1 vol.
Carta de guia de casados, por D. Francisco Manoel. Porto 1873. 1 vol.12
Catalogo methodico de livros antigos e modernos em diversas linguas e manuscriptos pertencentes a C. C Branco. Porto 1870, 1 vol.
Cavar em ruinas. Lisboa, sem data (1866). 2ª edição, Lisboa, sem data, (1867?). 1 vol.:
As moscas. Frades, ursos e um duque de Bragança. O primeiro inquisidor portuguez. Uma epistola de Garrett e o Porto. O mosteiro de Lessa. Fr. João Lopes. A vida picaresca. O bispo e a Misericordia do Porto. O habito de fr. Diogo. Os sinceiraes de Coimbra. O Forra-gaitas. Versos a Joaninha e á lua. Aviso aos adulteros. Outro aviso. Um sermão de Santa Maria Magdalena. O que são os ventos?. Mephistopheles e Maria Antonia. O meu condiscipulo.
Caveira (A) da martyr. Lisboa 1875-76. Contrafacção, Rio de Janeiro 1884. 3 vols.13
Clero (O) e o Sr. Alexandre Herculano. Sem o nome do auctor. Lisboa 1850. 1 vol.14
Como os anjos se vingam. Drama. Contrafacção, Rio de Janeiro 1871. 1 vol.15
Condemnado (O) e Como os anjos se vingam. Dramas, Porto 1870. 1 vol.16
Condemnado (O). Drama Contrafacção, Rio de Janeiro 1871. Porto 1882. 1 vol.17
Coração, cabeça e estomago. Lisboa 1862. 2ª edição, melhorada, Lisboa 1864. 1 vol.
Correspondencia epistolar entre J. C. Vieira de Castro e Camillo C. Branco. Com os retratos dos auctores. Porto 1874. 2 vols.
Cousas espantosas. Lisboa 1862. 2ª edição, Lisboa 1864. 1 vol.
Cousas leves e pesadas. Porto 1867. 2ª edição, Porto 1867. 1 vol.:
Dous corações guizados. Estudantes portuguezes em Salamanca. O primeiro baile de mascaras em Portugal. Portugal ha quatrocentro annos18. Saudade. Folhetim scientifico. Hydrotherapia. O academico ambicioso. Uma gloria nacional. Almeida Garrett. Um parente de cincoenta e tres monarchas. Goethe aos escriptores. Hospital do Porto. José Droz. Dezasete annos depois.
Criticos (Os) do Cancioneiro alegre e A critica benevola. Porto 1879. 1 vol.19
Curso de litteratura portugueza. 2º volume. Lisboa 1876. 1 vol.
Delictos da mocidade. Porto 1889. 1 vol.:
Carta de C. C. Branco. Os pundonores desaggravados, poemento20. O juizo final e o sonho do inferno, poema21. Communicado. Principios para uma consequencia. Sentimento. Uma noite no cemiterio. Algumas flores para um triumpho. A Julio do Carvalhal Sarmento e Pimentel, poesia. Um dia depois de Val-Passos. Notas.
Demonio (O) do ouro. Lisboa 1873-74. 2 vols.
Diccionario universal de educação e ensino. Traducção. Porto 1873. Nova edição, augmentada, Porto 1885-86. 2 vols.
Difamação dos livreiros. Porto 1886. 1 vol.
Divindade de Jesus. Porto 1865. Porto 1882. 1 vol.22
Doida (A) do Candal. Lisboa 1867. 2ª edição, Lisboa, sem data (1867). Lisboa 1888. 1 vol.
Dous murros uteis. Drama. Lisboa 1873. 1 vol.23
Doze casamentos felizes. Porto 1861. 2ª edição, revista pelo auctor, Porto 1863. 1 vol.
Duas épocas da vida. Poesia. Porto 1854. 2ª edição, melhorada, incluindo a poesiaHossana. Lisboa 1865. 1 vol.24:
Preceitos de coração. Preceitos de consciência.
Duas horas de leitura. Porto 1857. 2ª edição, augmentada, Porto 1858. 3ª edição, Porto 1868. 1 vol.:
Dous santos não beatificados em Roma. Do Porto a Braga. (Na edição de 1857.)
Dous santos não beatificados em Roma. Impressão indelevel. 7 de Junho de 1849. Do Porto a Braga. (Na 2ª e 3ª edições.)
Echos humoristicos do Minho. Publicação quinzenal. Cartas ao jornal O Cruzeiro, do Rio de Janeiro. Porto 1880. 4 vols.
Engeitada (A). Porto 1866. Lisboa, sem data. Lisboa 1878. 1 vol.
Entre a flauta e a viola. Comedia. Porto 1882. 1 vol.25
Esboços de apreciações litterarias. Porto 1865. 1 vol.:
Coelho Louzada, Ernesto Biester, Faustino Xavier de Novaes, Francisco Martins de Gouvêa Moraes Sarmento, Ignacio Pizarro de Moraes Sarmento, D. João de Azevedo, Joaquim Pinto Ribeiro, Joaquim Pinto Ribeiro Junior, José Barbosa da Silva, José Gomes Monteiro, Joseph Gregorio Lopes da Camara Sinval, Julio Cesar Machado, Luiz Augusto Rebello da Silva, Manoel Roussado, Marqueza d'Alorna, Raimundo de Bulhão Pato, Ramos Coelho, Soares de Passos, Theophilo Braga.
Espada (A) de Alexandre. Córte profundo na questão do Homem-mulher e mulher-homem. Por um socio prendado de varias philarmonicas. Porto 1872. Contrafacção, Rio de Janeiro 1872. 1 vol.26
Espelho de desgraçados.27
Espinhos e flores. Drama. Porto 1857, com o retrato do auctor. 2ª edição, Porto 1857. 3ª edição, Porto 1864, 1 vol.
Esqueleto (O). Lisboa 1865. 1 vol.
Estrellas funestas. Porto 1862. 2ª edição, Porto 1869. 3ª edição, Porto 1882. 1 vol.
Estrellas propicias. Porto 1863. Lisboa, sem data (1868?). 1 vol.
Fanny. Traducção. Porto 1861. 2ª edição, Porto 1862. 3ª edição, Porto, sem data. 1 vol.
Filha (A) do arcediago. 2ª edição, emendada, Porto 1858. 2ª edição, Porto 1861. 3ª edição, Porto 1868. 1 vol. 28
Filha (A) do doutor negro. Porto 1864. Lisboa, sem data. 2ª edição, revista e correcta pelo auctor, Lisboa, sem data. 1 vol.
Filha (A) do regicida. Lisboa 1875. 1 vol.29
Folhas cahidas, apanhadas na lama. Por um antigo juiz das almas de Campanhan, e socio actual da Assembléa Portuense, com exercicio no Palheiro. Poesia. Porto 1854. 1 vol.
Formosa (A) Lusitania. Traducção. Porto 1877. 1 vol.
Freira (A) no subterraneo. Traducção. Porto 1872. 2ª edição, Porto 1875. 3ª edição, Porto 1884. 1 vol.
General (O) Carlos Ribeiro. Porto 1884. 1 vol.
Genio (O) do christianismo. Traducção. Porto 1860. 2ª edição, correcta, Porto 1864. 2 vols.
Gonçalinho (O) de Carude. Romance realista.30
Historia de Gabriel Malagrida. Traducção. Lisboa 1875. 1 vol.
Historia e sentimentalismo. Porto 1879-8031. 2ª edição, revista pelo auctor, Porto 188032. 2 vols.:
1.º Historia-Estudos para a formação do livro D. Antonio, Prior do Crato: Duarte de Castro; Manoel da Silva Coutinho; D. Francisco de Portugal. A lenda do Machim. Sentimentalismo-Euzebio Macario, romance realista33.
2.º Historia-Gil Vicente; Sá de Miranda; Pena de Talião; Tragedias da India. Sentimentalismo-A Corja, romance realista34.
Horas de luta. Porto 1889. 1 vol.35
Horas de paz. Escriptos religiosos. Porto 1865. 2ª edição, revista e emendada, Porto 1877. 1 vol.36
Hosanna!. Poesia. Porto 1852. 1 vol.37
Immortalidade (A) a morte e a vida. Traducção. Porto 1865. 3ª edição, Porto 1867. 1 vol.
Infanta (A) capellista. Porto 1872.38
Inferno (O). Traducção. Porto 1871. 1 vol.
Inspiraçoens. Poesia. Porto 1851. 1 vol.
Jesus Christo perante o seculo. Traducção annotada por C. C. Branco. Porto 1852. 2ª edição, Porto, sem data (1863). 2ª edição, Porto 1867. 2 vols.
Judeu (O). Porto 1866. 2 vols.
Juizo (O) final e o sonho do inferno. Poema. Por C.(amillo) F.(erreira) B.(otelho) C.(astello) Branco. Porto 1845. 1 vol.39
Justiça (A). Drama. Porto 1856. Porto 1858. 2ª edição, Porto 1859. 2ª edição, contrafacção, Rio de Janeiro 1871. 3ª edição; Porto 1872. 4ª edição, Porto 1874. 1 Vol.
Lagrimas abençoadas. Porto 1857. 2ª edição, Porto 1863. 3ª edição, Porto 1878. 1 vol.40
Livro de consolação. Porto 1872. 1 vol.
Livro (O) negro do padre Diniz. Porto 1855. 2ª edição, Porto 1863. 3ª edição, Porto 1872. 4ª edição, Porto 1880. 1 vol.41
Lucta de gigantes. Porto 1865. Lisboa, sem data. 1 vol.
Luiz de Camões. Notas biographicas. Porto 1880. 1 vol.42
Luiz (D.) de Portugal, neto do prior do Crato. Porto 1883. 1 vol.
Maria da Fonte. Porto 1885. 1 vol.
Maria não me mates que sou tua mãi. Sem nome do auctor. Porto 1848. 1 vol.
Marquez (O) de Torres Novas. Drama. Porto 1849. 2ª edição, emendada, Porto 1858. 1 vol.
Martyres (Os). Traducção. Lisboa 1865. 1 vol.
Mata-a ou ella te matará, ou Homem-mulher ou mulher-homem. Traducção aprimorada de Gervasio Lopes Canavarro, mestre da philarmonica d'Affife, sachristão da Irmandade do Cordão e Chagas e confrade do Joaquim dos Musicos: Porto 1872. 1 vol.
Memorias do carcere. Porto 1862, 2ª edição, revista pelo auctor, Porto 1864. 3ª edição, revista pelo auctor, Porto 1881. 2 vols.43
Memorias de Fr. João de S. Joseph Queiroz. De um autographo. Porto 1868. 1 vol.
Memorias de Guilherme do Amaral. Obra posthuma. Lisboa 1863. 2ª edição, revista e correcta, Lisboa, sem data. 1 vol.44
Morgadinha (A) de Val d'Amores. Comedia. Porto 1882. 1 vol.45
Morgado (O) de Fafe amoroso. Comedia. Porto 1858. Porto 1861. Lisboa 1865. 1 vol.
Morgado (O) de Fafe em Lisboa. Comedia. Lisboa 1861. 2ª edição, Lisboa 1865. 1 vol.
Mosaico e sylva de curiosidades. Porto 1868. 1 vol.46:
A innocencia das aldeias. O castello de S. João da Foz. Á cerca dos jesuitas. Praeceptor infelix. Fr. Diogo d'Assumpção. Um bom ministro da fazenda para Portugal. Historia da egreja de N. S. da Lapa. Noticias do Porto antigo. Mafra. A meza mysteriosa. Izabel Clesse. Dos primeiros galopins eleitoraes em Portugal. Bordoada sacrilega. Manuel de Faria e Souza. O anel da benção. Manoel de Souza Coutinho e Miguel Cervantes. Passagens de uma carta autographa. Antiguidades de Braga. Carta de D. Antonio, prior do Crato. Nota ao Leproso, de X. de Maistre. As regras geraes, do snr. J. M. P. S. José Balsamo em Lisboa. Carta inedita do cardeal de Alpedrinha. Justificação de um frade. Um viajante no Minho em 1785. Divertimento das freiras de Lorvão.
Mulher (A) fatal. Lisboa, sem data (1870). 2ª edição, revista e emendada pelo auctor, Lisboa, sem data, 1 vol.
Murraça (A). Poesia. Porto 1848. 1 vol.
Mysterios de Fafe. Lisboa, sem data (1868). Lisboa 1877. 3ª edição, Lisboa 1881. 1 vol.
Mysterios de Lisboa. Porto 1854. 3 vols, 2ª edição, melhorada, com o retrato do auctor, Porto 1858. 3ª edição, Porto 1861. 4ª edição, Porto 1864, 5ª edição, Porto 1878. 2 vols.47
Narcoticos. Porto 1882. 2 vols.:
1.° Traços de D. João 3º. O snr. ministro. A viuva do poeta Ovidio. Silva Pinto e a sua obra. Ideias de D. João VI. Camões e os sapateiros.
2.º Os contrafactores do Brazil. Portugal e os estrangeiros. Galeria de figuras portuguezas. Galeria das sciencias contemporaneas. Jesuitas!. Tratado de historia ecclesiastica. Citania. Margarida. Cartas do marquez e marqueza de Tavora. Conde de Azevedo. Os descendentes do dr. Antonio Ferreira. Oliveira Martins-Historia da civilisação iberica e Historia de Portugal. Eleições liberrimas. O macaco e o elephante. Thomaz Ribeiro-D. Jayme, Sons que passam, Vesperas e A Delfina do mal. Observações á-Citania. A propriedade litteraria. Historia e Sentimentalismo, reparos. Ethnographos palacianos. Armas e lettras. A Luiz da Costa Pereira. Memoria sobre a historia e administração do municipio de Setubal. Lisboa antiga, pelo Visconde de Castilho. A morte de Philarète Chasles. Curso theorico e pratico de pedagogia. Poesias posthumas de F. Xavier de Novaes.
Nas trevas. Sonetos sentimentaes e humoristicos. Lisboa 1890, 1 vol.
Neta (A) do arcediago. 2ª edição, Porto 1860. 3ª edição, Porto 1874. 1 vol.48
No Bom Jesus do Monte. Porto 1864. 1 vol
Noites de insomnia. Publicação mensal. Porto 1874. 12 vols.:
1.° Proemio. Consolação a Santos Nazareth. As ostras. Rehabilitação do snr. visconde de Margaride. A rival de Brites de Almeida. Egas Moniz. Dous poetas ineditos do Porto. D. João III, o principe perfeito. Subsidio para a historia de um futuro santo. O livro 5° da ordenação, titulo 22. Problema historico a premio. Desastre do santo officio no Porto. Rancho do Carqueja.
2.º Aquella casa triste... Solução do problema historico. Dous preconceitos. Lisboa. Ferreira Rangel. As joias d'um ministro de D. João V no prego. O oraculo do marquez de Pombal. O principe perfeito. Ave rara. Vergonhas nacionaes. Rancho da Carqueja. Bom humor (Ao noticiarista da Actualidade). Declaração.
3.º Feitiços da guitarra. Em que veias gira o sangue de Camões?. Lisboa. Voltas do mundo. Nova solução do problema historico. Desgraçado Balzac! (Á Actualidade). Os 2 Joaquins. Flores para a sepultura de Ferreira Rangel. O mysterio da castanha. Bem vindo!. Os salões, pelo visconde de Ouguella. Subsidios para a historia da serenissima casa de Bragança.
4.º O cofre do capitão-mór. O jogador. Inedito do poeta Fr. Bernardo de Brito. Lisboa. Litteratura brazileira. Á Actualidade. A exma. madrasta d'el-rei D. Luiz I calumniada. Os salões, pelo visconde de Ouguella. O decepado. Caridade barata e elegante. Profunda reforma nos costumes da via ferrea portugueza. Formosa e infeliz. Antonio Serrão de Castro.
5.º Petronilla, Gamarra, Zamperini. Entrada para Os salões. Os salões, pelo visconde de Ouguella. Ecce iterum Silva Crispinus. Santos Silva. Doudo illustre. Renan. Correcções. Mau exemplo de poetas casados. A casa de Bragança ab ovo. Um inquisidor portuguez e o principe de Galles. A trilogia da Actualidade.
6.º Subsidios para a historia da serenissima casa de Bragança. Os salões, pelo visconde de Ouguella. Manoelinho de Evora. A morte de D. João (por Guerra Junqueiro). Poetas e prosadores brasileiros. Ácerca de Joaquim 2°. Estupido e infame (Á Actualidade). Carta ao Snr. conselheiro Viale. Quinta-essencia de malandrim (Á Actualidade).
7.º Os salões, pelo visconde de Ouguella. Uma viscondessa que não era. Bibliographia. Para a historia de D. João IV. Inedito de Manoel Severim de Faria. O Manoelinho poeta. Um baile dado a Junot, em Lisboa. Que saudade!... Carta a respeito... d'aquella cousa. Nil admirari.
8.° Os salões, pelo visconde de Ouguella. Subsidios para a historia da serenissima casa de Bragança. O paço real da Ribeira. As cruas entranhas de D. Maria I, a piedosa. D. Maria Caraca Bonaparte. Lixo. Bibliographia. Pobreza academica. Sobre Anselmo. Ao publico.
9.º Os salões, pelo visconde de Ouguella. Condemnação de corpo e alma. O doutor Botija. O palco portuguez em 1815. Bibliographia. Que segredos são estes?...
10. Beatriz de Vilalva. Se o poeta Bernardim Ribeiro foi commendador. Resposta de José Anastacio. Prefacio ao Sonho do arcebispo. O ultimo carrasco, pelo visconde de Ouguella. Curiosidades artisticas. Cantada e carpida. Bibliographia.
11. O ultimo carrasco, pelo visconde de Ouguella. O desastroso fim de Damião de Goes. A menina perdida. O heroe da ilha Terceira. O nariz. João Baptista Gomes. Auto de fé... a rir.
12. O que eram frades. Quem desterrou José de Seabra da Silva?... D. João IV e as regateiras. Fielding. Mania e hypocondria. Aos diplomatas descontentes. Bibliographia. Excelentissimos senhores. O ultimo carrasco, pelo visconde de Ouguella. O horror da demencia. Restauração de um documento historico valioso. A dança. Fim.
Noites de Lamego. Lisboa 1863. 2º edição, Lisboa 1873. 1 vol.:
Lãs e algodões. Dois casamentos. O tio egresso e o sobrinho bacharel. Tramoias desta vida. Dois murros uteis, drama49. A formosa das violetas. Como ella o amava!. Historia de uma porta. O infante D. Duarte. Cezar ou João Fernandes?
Nostalgias. Ultima prosa rimada. Porto 1888. 1 vol.
Novellas do Minho. Publicação mensal. Lisboa 1875-77. 12 vols.:
Gracejos que matam. O commendador. O cego de Landim. A morgada de Romariz. O filho natural. Maria Moysés. O degredado. A viuva do enforcado.
Obras de C. Castello Branco. Edição definitiva (illustrada) revista e corrigida pelo auctor. Lisboa 1887.50
Obras de C. Castello Branco. Lisboa, companhia editora de publicações illustradas (Pedro Corrêa), 1889. Em publicação.
Obulo ás crianças. Porto 1887, 1 vol.51
Olho (O) de vidro. Lisboa, sem data, 1866. 2ª edição, Lisboa, sem data. 1 vol.
Onde está a felicidade?. Porto 1856. 2ª edição, Porto 1860. 3ª edição, Porto 1864. 4ª edição, Porto 1878. 1 vol.52
Othelo, o mouro de Veneza. Esboço de critica á traducção de D. Luiz de Bragança. Porto 1886. 1 vol.
Pathologia do casamento. Drama. 2ª edição, Porto 1862. 1 vol.53
Perfil do Marquez de Pombal. Porto 1882. 1 vol.54
Poesia ou dinheiro?. Drama. Porto 1855. 2ª edição, Porto 1862. 1 vol.55
Poesias e prosas ineditas, de Fernão Rodrigues Lobo Soropita. De um manuscripto. Porto 1868. 1 vol.
Preceitos de consciencia. Poesia. Lisboa 1865. 1 vol.56
Preceitos do coração. Poesia. Lisboa 1865. 1 vol.56
Prendas (As) dos nossos primos. Estudos humoristicos em familia ácerca da mesma.57
Pundonores (Os) desaggravados. Poemeto. Porto 1845. 1 vol.58
Purgatorio e paraiso. Drama. Porto 1857. 2ª edição, Porto 1871. 1 vol.
Quatro horas innocentes. Lisboa 1872. 1 vol.:
A Flôr da Maia. O livro de Lazaro. A corôa de oiro. Por causa do panno da bocca. O inferno. O santo de Midões. Celestina. A cruz do Corcovado. Uma carta de Ignacio Pizarro. Leitura consoladora. Em vinte annos. Pataratas, versos.
Que (O) fazem mulheres. Porto 1858. 2ª edição, Porto 1863. 1 vol.
Queda (A) de um anjo. Lisboa 1866. 2ª edição, revista e correcta pelo auctor, Lisboa, sem data. 3ª edição, Lisboa 1876. 1 vol.
Questão da Sebenta. Polemica. Porto 1883. 5 vols.:59
Notas á Sebenta. Notas ao folheto. A cavallaria da Sebenta. Segunda carga da cavallaria. Carga terceira.
Ratos (Os) da Inquisição. Poema inedito do judeu António Serrão de Crasto. Porto 1883. 1 vol.
Regicida (O). Lisboa 1874. 1 vol.
Retrato (O) de Ricardina. Lisboa, sem data (1868). 1 vol.
Revelações. Polemica. Porto 1852. 1 vol.
Riquezas do pobre e miserias do rico, seguidas do Livro de consolação. Traducção. Sem o nome do traductor. Porto 1858. 1 vol.60
Romance (O) d'um homem rico. Porto 1861. 2.ª edição, correcta e revista pelo auctor, Porto 1863. 1 vol.
Romance d'um rapaz pobre. Traducção. Lisboa 1861. Lisboa 1865. 1 vol.
Sancto (O) da montanha. Porto 1866. Lisboa, sem data. 1 vol.
Sangue (O). Lisboa, sem data (1868). 1 vol.
Scenas contemporaneas. Porto 1855-56. 3 vols.:61
1.º A filha do arcediago.62
2.º Scenas contemporaneas: Morrer por capricho. Uma paixão bem empregada. D'abysmo em abysmo. Aventuras dum boticario d'aldêa. Pathologia do casamento, drama. Cousas que só eu sei. Poesia ou dinheiro?, drama63. Dinheiro! dinheiro. A caveira. Uma praga rogada nas escadas da forca.
3.º A neta do arcediago.64
Scenas contemporaneas. 2.ª edição, Porto 1862. 1 vol.65
Scenas da Foz. Por João Junior. Vianna 1857. 2.ª edição, Porto 1860. 3.ª edição, Porto 1873. 1 vol.:
A sorte em preto. Dinheiro.
Scenas da hora final. Traducção. Porto 1878. 1 vol.
Scenas innocentes da comedia humana. Lisboa 1863. 2ª edição, Lisboa 1873. 1 vol:
Promessa cumprida. Tres medicos. O padre Macedo e a Zamperini. A mulher da Azinhaga. Mulheres celebres e exquisitas. O maior amigo de Luiz de Camões. Heloisa e Abeilard. A carteira de um suicida. Trezentos mil cruzados por um dente. Tormento da memoria. A rainha das Maldivas. Á urna!. Post-scriptum.
Senhor (O) do paço de Ninães. Porto 1867. Lisboa, sem data. 1 vol.
Senhora (A) Rattazzi. Critica. Porto 1880. Nova edição, mais correcta e augmentada. Porto 1880. 1 vol.66
Sereia (A). Porto 1865. 1 vol.
Seroens de S. Miguel de Seide. Chronica mensal. Porto 1885-86. 6 vols.:
1.º Preludio. Segundo commendador. Questoens de vida e morte. O infantilismo dos poetas.
2.º Capitulo DCCCXXXVII das minhas Memorias d'além-tumulo. Passagem do romance ineditoVolcoens de lama. O virtuoso Catão e o honrado Hortencio. Questoens de vida e morte.
3.º A via-sacra. Lyra meridional, por Antonio d'Azevedo Castello Branco.
4.º A fidalguinha (poesia). Carta aos Seroens de S. Miguel de Seide. Questoens de vida e morte. Visita a um azilo de criminosos alienados.
5.º Capitulo CCCXCIX das minhas Memorias d'além-tumulo. A via-sacra. Notas conspicuas. Notas archeologicas. Visita a um azilo de criminosos alienados.
6.° A velhice do padre eterno. Goethe ridiculo. Quem era a mulher de Caim?. As creanças indigentes. Amôres serodios.
Suicida. Porto 1880. 1 vol.
Theatro comico. Porto 1871. 1 vol.:
A morgadinha de Val-d'Amores. Entre a flauta e a viola.67
Tres (As) irmãs. Porto 1862. 2.ª edição, revista pelo auctor, Porto 1866. 3.ª edição, Porto 1882. 1 vol. Rio Grande do Sul, contrafacção muito defeituosa, extrahido do Diario de Pernambuco, 1862. 3 vols.
Ultimo (O) acto. Drama. Lisboa 1859. Lisboa 1862. 2ª edição, Lisboa 1884. 1 vol.
Ultimo (O) anno de um válido. Fragmento de um drama do futuro. Porto 1849?. 1 vol.
Ultimo (O) morgado do paço de Carude. Romance realista.68
Um homem de brios. Porto 1856, com o retrato do auctor. 2ª edição, Porto 1862. 3ª edição, Porto 1869. 1 vol.69
Um livro. Poesia. Porto 1854. 2ª edição, emendada e augmentada, Porto 1858. 3ª edição, novamente correcta. Porto 1866. 1 vol.70
Vaidades irritadas e irritantes. (Opusculo ácerca d'uns que se dizem offendidos em sua liberdade de consciencia litteraria.) Porto 1866. 2.ª edição. Porto 1889. 1 vol.71
Vespa (A) do Parnaso. Collecção de poesias lisonjeiras. Por um mordomo das almas de Campanhã. Porto 1854. 1 vol.
Vida d'el-rei D. Affonso VI. Escripta em 1684. Porto, sem data (1873). 1 vol.
Vingança. Porto 1858. 2.ª edição, Porto 1863.
Vinho (O) do Porto. Processo de uma bestialidade ingleza. Porto 1884. 1 vol.
Vinte dias de agonia. Porto 1866. 1 vol.72
Vinte horas de liteira. Porto 1864. Lisboa, sem data. 1 vol.
Visconde (O) de Ouguella. Perfil biographico. Porto 1873. 1 vol.
Virtudes (As) antigas. Lisboa, sem data (1868). 1 vol.:
A freira que fazia chagas. O frade que fazia reis. A filha do pasteleiro do Madrigal. Um poeta portuguez.... rico!
Volcoens de lama. Porto 1866. 1 vol.
Voltareis, ó Christo!. Narrativa. Porto 1871. 2.ª edição, Porto 1889. 1 vol.
Jornaes que C. Castello Branco mais tempo redigio e em que mais collaborou, quer na parte politica, quer na litteraria:
Atheneu.
Aurora do Lima.
Bardo (O).
Bibliographia portugueza e estrangeira.
Bico (O) de gaz.73
Christianismo (O).
Clamor publico.
Coalisão.
Commercio (O) do Porto.
Correio da Europa.
Cruz (A).
Echo popular.
Futuro (O). Rio de Janeiro.
Gazeta litteraria do Porto.73
Grinalda (A).
Jornal do povo.
Miscellanea poetica.
Mundo (O) elegante.73
Nação.
Nacional.74
Occidente (O).
Porto e Carta.
Portuense (O).
Ribaltas e gambiarras.
Revista universal lisbonense.
Semana.
Voz do povo.
Muitos romances; poesias, polemicas e outros escriptos, dos que ficam catalogados, sahiram nos referidos e outros jornaes.
Alguns auctores e traductores illustraram as suas obras com prefacios, prologos, juizos criticos, etc., d'esse erudito mestre a quem a Historia consagrou uma das suas mais polidas paginas de ouro!.
"Camillo occupava-se, quando cegou, em um trabalho sobre Leonor Telles, do qual resultava a rehabilitação da sua memoria; outro sobre Ignez de Castro, mostrando que ella não era hespanhola, mas portugueza, pois nascêra na quinta de Oliveira, em Gaya, hoje propriedade do visconde do mesmo titulo.
"Além destes, Camillo devia deixar, se não concluidos, pelo menos em via disso, um livro inedito-A raça do prior do Crato, corpo de historia em que trabalhava ha bastantes annos.
"Um collega affirma tambem que Camillo deixou ou quasi concluido ou terminado, o romance Os Brocas.
"É inexacto.
"Camillo tencionava de facto escrever esse romance, que prendia com a historia de seus avós, e chegou até a contractar a publicação da obra com o fallecido livreiro Ernesto Chardron. Tinha, porém, Camillo de ir á Villa Real colher apontamentos e subsidios que reputava indispensaveis, quando se lhe aggravaram os padecimentos. Desistio então, e isso mesmo participou ao editor.
"O grande escriptor usou por vezes dos seguintes pseudonymos: Anastacio das Lombrigas, Archi-Zero, Saragoçano, C. da Veiga, Manoel Côco, A. E. I. O. U., Modesto, Visconde de qualquer cousa, João Junior e Gervasio Lopes Canavarro."

Este romance começou a ser publicado n'O Futuro, de F. Xavier de Novaes, periodico litterario que se publicava no Rio de Janeiro, em 1863.
2 Em seguida a este romance andam as traducções O arrependimento e A gratidão, que não são de Camillo Castello Branco.
3 Inclue-se este livro na collecção das obras de Camillo Castello Branco, por conter cartas, artigos, poesias e traducções do fecundo escriptor.
4 Este artigo é o prefacio da Carta de guia de casados.
5 "Publicada pudicamente sem nome do auctor em 1872."
6 Este artigo é o prefacio da 7ª edição do Camões de Garrett, e teve uma tiragem especial no mesmo anno-1880.
7 Esta critica foi publicada em folheto, em 1880.
8 Esta polemica foi publicada em folhetos, em 1883, sob a epigraphe Questão da Sebenta.
9 Este escripto, sobre a critica de Alexandre da Conceição ao romance A corja, sahio em diversos numeros do jornal Ribaltas e gambiarras de 1880-81, sendo reproduzido na Bibliographia portugueza e estrangeira, dos mesmos annos, sob a epigraphe Polemica litteraria.
10 Este romance, annunciado a entrar no prelo, em 1884, não foi publicado.
11 Este livro motivou a polemica Os criticos do Cancioneiro Alegre.
12 O prefacio foi reproduzido na Bohemia do espirito.
13 Continuação d'A filha do regicida.
Os editores retiraram o 1º vol., pouco depois da sahida da obra: diz-se que por ordem do socio Mattos Moreira e por motivos orthodoxos, e tambem se diz que por pedido de um alto personagem portuguez.
14 Com este escripto entrou Camillo na polemica levantada á volta da Historia de Portugal de Alexandre Herculano, a desproposito do milagre de Ourique e das cortes de Lamego, batendo o grande historiador.
15 O authentico anda em seguida a O condemnado, Porto 1870.
16 Estes dramas foram contrafeitos no Rio de Janeiro, em 1871, em separado.
17 A edição do Porto 1882 é a mesma do Porto 1870 sem o drama Como os anjos se vingam, tendo sido substituidas as folhas do titulo e frontespicio.
18 Este artigo sahio publicado em 1861 nos jornaes Revolução de Setembro e Diario do Rio de Janeiro, sob o titulo-Noticia de um viajante ha tresentos noventa e cinco annos.
19 A polemica Os criticos é transcripção dos ns. 7 a 10 da Bibliographia portugueza e estrangeira de 1879: 1º-O snr. Sergio de Castro. 2º-O snr. Carlos Lobo de Avila. 3º-O snr. Mariano Pina. Mariano (bis) Pina. Gaspar da Silva. 4º-Arthur Barreiros. A snra. Mariana (Tri) Pina. O snr. Thomáz Filho.
A critica benevola são as apreciações de diversos jornaes.
20 Das edições primitivas-Porto 1845.
21 Das edições primitivas-Porto 1845.
22 Extrahido dos jornaes A Cruz e O Christianismo.
23 O mesmo das Noites de Lamego, 2ª edição, 1873.
24 Com a 2ª edição foram tiradas, separadas, as duas poesias Preceitos.
A poesia Hossana foi publicada em 1852.
25 Reproduzida do Theatro comico.
26 Foi reproduzida na Bohemia do espirito.
27 Este romance; annunciado a entrar no prelo, em 1886, não foi publicado.
28 Continua n'A neta do arcediago.
A 1ª edição é o 1º volume das Scenas contemporaneas, e sahio em 1855.
29 Continua n'A caveira da martyr.
30 Este romance, annunciado no prelo, em 1880, não foi publicado.
31 O titulo do 1° vol. é Sentimentalismo e Historia, e o do 2º é Historia e Sentimentalismo. Os dous livros, porém, começam pela Historia e continuam no Sentimentalismo; por isso adoptamos o titulo geral-Historia e Sentimentalismo, que é o da capa do 1º volume.
32 O 1º volume da 2ª edição começa pelo Sentimentalismo e continua na Historia.
33 Continua n' A corja.
34 Continuação do Euzebio Macario.
A critica de Alexandre da Conceição ao romance A corja motivou os escriptos de Camillo, que sahiram no jornal Ribaltas e gambiarras e foram reproduzidos na Bibliographia portugueza e estrangeira, 1880-81, sob a epigraphe Polemica litteraria:
Nota ao artigo supra do snr. Alexandre da Conceição. Conceição immaculada. A corja e o snr. Conceição-corja. O snr. Conceição-corja. Conceição-corja.
Estes escriptos estão na Bohemia do espirito sob a epigraphe Modelo de polemica portugueza.
35 Edição e homenagem de João António de Freitas Fortuna.
36 Extrahido dos jornaes A cruz e O christianismo.
37 Foi reproduzida na 2ª edição das Duas épocas da vida.
38 A impressão deste livro foi suspensa pelo auctor, quando já havia 128 paginas: diz-se que por deliberação propria, e diz-se tambem que por pedido de um alto personagem brazileiro, quando visitou o autor.
Consta que aquellas paginas vão ser re-impressas.
39 Reproduzido nos Delictos da mocidade. Porto 1889.
40 Este romance começou a ser publicado em 1853, no semanario religioso A cruz, sob o tituloTemor de Deus.
41 Continuação dos Mysterios de Lisboa.
42 É o prefacio da 7ª edição do Camões de Garrett.
Foi reproduzido na Bohemia do Espirito.
43 Em pag. 102 a 180 está o romance Martyrios obscuros.
44 Continuação de Um homem de brios.
45 Reproduzida do Theatro comico.
46 Extrahido da Gazeta litteraria.
47 Continúa n' O livro negro.
48 Continuação d'A filha do arcediago.
A primeira edição é o terceiro volume das Scenas contemporaneas, e sahiu em 1856.
49 Este drama foi tirado em separado em 1873, sendo o mesma composição de novo paginada.
50 Os editores suspenderam a publicação, em 1888, tendo publicado O retrato de RicardinaA queda d'um anjo e A doida do Candal.
51 Junto ao trabalho de Camillo andam outros de auctores diversos.
52 Continúa n' Um homem de brios.
53 A primeira edição é o que está nas Scenas contemporaneas.
54 Esta obra provocou a Questão da Sebenta.
55 A edição de 1855 é a composição das Scenas contemporaneas do mesmo anno, com frontespicio e de novo paginada.
56 São as mesmas composições das Duas epocas da vida de 1865, com frontespicios e de novo paginadas.
57 Este romance, annunciado a entrar no prélo em 1881, não foi publicado.
58 Reproduzido nos Delictos da mocidade, Porto 1889.
59 Esta polemica, que teve origem em uma referencia do Dr. Avelino Cezar Calisto, lente da Universidade de Coimbra, publicada na Sebenta, com relação ao Perfil do marquez de Pombal, foi reproduzida na Bohemia do espirito sob a epigraphe Sebenta, bollas e bullas.
60 O Livro de consolação, não é de Camillo.
61 Os tres volumes tiveram novas edições sob os titulos de cada um.
62 Continua n' A neta do arcediago, 3.º vol.
63 Este drama foi tirado em separado, sendo a mesma composição com frontespicio e de novo paginada.
64 Continuação d'A filha do arcediago.
65 A primeira edição é o segundo volume das Scenas contemporaneas, e sahio em 1855.
Esta segunda edição não tem os dramas Pathologia do casamento e Poesia ou dinheiro? que foram impressos em separado no mesmo anno, com a indicação-2.ª edição.
66 Esta critica, motivada pelas más apreciações de madame Rattazzi no seu Le Portugal à vol d'oiseau, foi reproduzida na Bohemia do espirito.
67 Estas comedias foram reproduzidas em separado, em 1882.
68 Este romance, annunciado no prélo em 1879, não foi publicado.
69 Continuação de Onde está a felicidade?. Continúa em Memorias de Guilherme do Amaral.
70 Este livro termina com o romance Vinte dias de agonia, que teve edição em separado, em 1866.
71 O motivo deste opusculo foi a questão levantada por Anthero do Quental ácerca de uma referencia a seu respeito, feita por Antonio Feliciano de Castilho no prefacio ao Poema da mocidade, de Pinheiro Chagas.
72 Este romance anda no fim de Um livro.
73 Estes jornaes, semanarios, foram redigidos e collaborados só por C. C. Branco:
a) Porto 1854, sahio só um numero;
b) Porto 1868, sahiram dezeseis numeros;
c) Porto 1858-59, sahiram dezesete numeros.
74 Este jornal, diario, era o predilecto de C. C. Branco