#bid whist
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Bid Whist at the Party
Uptown downtown
Win the trick
Turning tricks
Broke the suit
Played the trump
Was the joker
My partner read my eyes
We were winners
Eating chicken dinner
It’s not right
All this gathering of power
Into hands of the few
Working seven days a week
Commuting in your sleep
These Ds look like wizard hats
Sequined sparkling
I advised but could not steer
No matter how clear
The words he did hear
I don’t think I got through
His stories of work
Of lives saved and uplifted
He wasn’t always so gifted
But as soon as he knew
He could make a difference
It changed from a job
That nine to five
To life’s calling
I’m falling
This Mac and cheese
So delightful
I recommended it to the late girl
And an hour later
She is telling me I should try it
Girl, you got me dying
I was the one who told you
This party put together
Friends and family
Housewarming
New home with marble floor
Just knock on the door
Hang the coat
Put up the shoes
Nothing to it
But to show up
It’s that glow up
That meeting of the minds
People from different tribes
Coming together to have a good time
#poetry#original poem#poem#writing#spilled ink#poets on tumblr#party#bid whist#mac and cheese#friends and family
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Juneteenth In The 'Ruff 2022Freedom, Cultures, and Community
Juneteenth In The ‘Ruff 2022Freedom, Cultures, and Community
By: Cora Newcomb, Board Member of Stone Soup Storytelling, and Karyn Page-Davies, President/Director of Stone Soup Storytelling
If you missed it, you missed a lot!
An absolutely amazing, unique, and incredibly delightful celebration of the first Juneteenth celebration happened in downtown Woodruff on June 24 and 25 at Muse 134. The event was hosted, sponsored, and produced by the Stone Soup…
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#Bee Hive Creative Dance#Bid Whist#Cora Newcomb#Damon L. Fordham#Jeff Wilkins#Karyn Page-Davies#Marilyn Hemingway#Mayor Kenneth Gist#Nancy Tolson#Stone Soup Storytelling#WYLDAMERICA
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Oh hell is a trick-taking game where players aim to take exactly the number of tricks specified by a bid after a deal.
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The mother of Nabil Amer (19) bids farewell to her son who was shot dead by the occupation forces whist raiding Tulkarm refugee camp.
#palestine#free palestine#gaza#free gaza#israel#palestinians#gaza strip#palestinian genocide#ceasefire#ceasefire now#ceasefire in gaza
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As Tumblr's resident Icelandic person, I wanted to ask if you knew about Icelandic whist variations.
Unlikely, I know, but my grandfather learnt a variation whilst working on an Icelandic fishing boat many, many years ago which is like a combination of tarneeb and bid whist which I simply cannot find on the internet.
As it is likely that you don't have extensive whist knowledge, I would simply like to inform you of this weird instance of a card game that I cannot find anywhere.
Please enjoy your day :)
Sending you extensive appreciation as a long-time follower from the other side of the world ♡
I'm afriad I don't really know what whist is and will therefore not be of much help here
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After the success of the last year, I bring you...
The second year of hosting Weekend with the Grays, 2k22 edition!!
Same ball, different prompts, new guests...
Now, here are some rules:
Keep it PG!! Since NSFW content may be triggering to many and it's Christmas!! There will be time for horny jail in February
Ship and let others ship
Be respectful. It costs 0£ not to be a jerk
Everyone is welcome!!
No one is forced to participate
You can join any day!! Even if you post only one (1) day, I'll still appreciate it!!
Ofc, the new tag will be #wwtg22 !!
And now, the prompts...
5th of December: You Are Cordially Invited...
You've received an OWL from Lady Gray! Is it your second time? Or maybe your first? How do you feel? Will you attend... or not?
6th of December: The Welcome Ball 2.0
The iconic ball that will begin all! What are you wearing? Are you bringing a date... or will you get one when you come in? Who are you dancing with? Don't forget to greet and thank the Lady Gray for her generosity...
7th of December: Sleigh, skate, go!!
Lady Gray's prized lake is frozen because of the winter... But the show must go on!! Will you sleigh, skate on the lake or just start a snowball fight?
8th of December: Supper time at Winbourne
You will be dining in Lady Gray's spectacular dinner party. What are you wearing? Who will she sit you next with? And after the men smoke their cigars and the women retreat to their special room, will you be smoking and chatting... Or gossiping with Lady Gray? Was the food at least good?
9th of December: Whist, sleepover and whispers
While Lord Gray hosts the men with a game of whist, the women reunite with Lady Gray for a sleepover where they'll play various games. And remember, the staff are a big gossip, so tread carefully, especially at night...
10th of December: The Fair of Winbournshire
The people of the estate's village has built a beautiful fair with every kind of game and foods! Are you playing the games, shopping or trying on the foods? You didn't hear it from me but... this could be an amazing time to sneak out with your beau... As long as it's away from the village. The common folk are worse gossips than the staff, for sure...
11th of December: Masquerade Ball
The Lady Gray has prepared a second ball: a masquerade one! Prepare your mask and dance away with a Beau... Or two! I heard she has a beautiful gazebo and a greenhouse where, at midnight, its rarest flower blooms as the fountain's relaxing sound makes the experience magical... Not to mention is a very secluded place 😜
12th of December: Lunchtime and Goodbye
Every event has an ending... Eat a delicious send-off lunch with the Grays and a good-bye to your beau... For now 😉 and don't forget to bid your generous host good-bye as well!!
Tagging a few peeps:
@cursebreakerfarrier @gcldensnitch @gaygryffindorgal @camillejeaneshphm @potionboy3 @kc-and-co @the-al-chemist @lifeofkaze @whatwouldvalerydo @nelabelievesindragons @magicallymalted @thatravenpuffwitch @kathrynalicemc @hphmmatthewluther @catohphm @cursed-herbalist
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I was researching whist variations for my fic (as I want the characters to play hearts) and I cannot find the variation that my family plays. I mean, I've found hearts, which we play, but not the other variation.
If I had to describe it, it's a combination of Bid Whist and Tarneeb - it has basically the rules of tarneeb but no set partners (and also simpler point scoring) and has the "downtown" found in bid whist but with ace being low in that case rather than it being high. We call this game partners but I cannot find any information on a game exactly matching it. Isn't that fascinating?
#fanfic#true beauty#card games#whist#partners#hearts#if someone has information on this game#or on card games in general#i really want to know
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365 Marvel Comics Paper Cut-Out SuperHeroes - One Hero, Every Day, All Year…
December 11th - Siryn
Theresa Cassidy is the daughter of the X-Man known as Banshee (Sean Cassidy) and his former wife, Maeve Rourke Cassidy. During his time as an agent for Interpol, Sean was sent on an undercover mission for many months, not knowing that Maeve was pregnant when he left. Maeve gave birth to a girl whom she named Theresa. Not long thereafter, Maeve was tragically killed in a terrorist bombing. Sean’s cousin, Tom Cassidy, took custody of the baby and raised her as his own, hiding the truth from Sean as well as Theresa for many years.
Tom Cassidy was himself a Mutant, as well as a villain who frequently teamed up with the fellow super villain, The Juggernaut. Theresa’s own Mutant powers manifested in late childhood and she possessed the same sonic powers as her father. These powers entail the ability to emit a high pitched sonic scree that creates significant concussive force. Along with offering a formidable offensive weapon in the form of a sonic blast, when coupled with a specialized gliding suit, it can provide short term flight.
Theresa was a sweet and gentle young woman, but also impressionable and anxious for the approval of the man she believed was her father. As such, she was willing to use her powers as a super villain to do Tom Cassidy’s bidding. She took on the alias of ‘Siryn’ and accompanied her father to the States where she battled Spider-Woman (Jessica Drew). Theresa did not fare well in her initial outing; her heart was not in it and she was easily defeated by Spider-Woman. Tom Cassidy and The Juggernaut, meanwhile, were defeated by The X-Men. Following his capture, Tom Cassidy exonerated Theresa, stating that he had coerced her. He additionally revealed her true identity as the daughter of Sean Cassidy.
Still a minor, Theresa was not charged and released into the custody of the X-Men. They reunited her with her biological father and the two lived together on Muir Island along with Sean’s girlfriend, Moira MacTaggart.
Theresa would go on to resume the guise of Siryn whist acting as a member of the Fallen Angels. She later became a member of Cable’s X-Force. She would go on to serve as a part of the X-Corporation as well as Jaimie Maddrox’s X-Factor Investigations.
At one point, Theresa had a fling with Jaime Maddrox (unaware that she had actually slept with one of his sentient dupes). The affair resulted in Theresa becoming pregnant. She had the baby and named him Sean after her father. Tragically, when Maddrox toughed the newborn he unintentionally absorbed in that it was essentially a dupe. Losing her baby in this fashion was unbearably traumatic to Theresa and she fell into a deep depression. Theresa was ultimately able to get through her sadness in part by getting back in touch with her Catholic faith. Thereafter she retired the codename of Siryn and took on her father's former mantle as Banshee.
A version of Siryn featured in the Fox Films movies, X2: X-Men United and X-Men: The Last Stand, portrayed by actress Shauna Kain. The heroine first appeared in the pages of Spider-Woman Vol. 1 #37 (1980).
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December 8th: in which Verne is bored and compares indigenous to animals twice
The train pursued its course, that evening, without interruption, passing Fort Saunders, crossing Cheyne Pass, and reaching Evans Pass. The road here attained the highest elevation of the journey, eight thousand and ninety-two feet above the level of the sea. The travellers had now only to descend to the Atlantic by limitless plains, levelled by nature. A branch of the “grand trunk” led off southward to Denver, the capital of Colorado. The country round about is rich in gold and silver, and more than fifty thousand inhabitants are already settled there.
Thirteen hundred and eighty-two miles had been passed over from San Francisco, in three days and three nights; four days and nights more would probably bring them to New York. Phileas Fogg was not as yet behind-hand.
During the night Camp Walbach was passed on the left; Lodge Pole Creek ran parallel with the road, marking the boundary between the territories of Wyoming and Colorado. They entered Nebraska at eleven, passed near Sedgwick, and touched at Julesburg, on the southern branch of the Platte River.
It was here that the Union Pacific Railroad was inaugurated on the 23rd of October, 1867, by the chief engineer, General Dodge. Two powerful locomotives, carrying nine cars of invited guests, amongst whom was Thomas C. Durant, vice-president of the road, stopped at this point; cheers were given, the Sioux and Pawnees performed an imitation Indian battle, fireworks were let off, and the first number of the Railway Pioneer was printed by a press brought on the train. Thus was celebrated the inauguration of this great railroad, a mighty instrument of progress and civilisation, thrown across the desert, and destined to link together cities and towns which do not yet exist. The whistle of the locomotive, more powerful than Amphion’s lyre, was about to bid them rise from American soil.
Fort McPherson was left behind at eight in the morning, and three hundred and fifty-seven miles had yet to be traversed before reaching Omaha. The road followed the capricious windings of the southern branch of the Platte River, on its left bank. At nine the train stopped at the important town of North Platte, built between the two arms of the river, which rejoin each other around it and form a single artery, a large tributary, whose waters empty into the Missouri a little above Omaha.
The one hundred and first meridian was passed.
Mr. Fogg and his partners had resumed their game; no one—not even the dummy—complained of the length of the trip. Fix had begun by winning several guineas, which he seemed likely to lose; but he showed himself a not less eager whist-player than Mr. Fogg. During the morning, chance distinctly favoured that gentleman. Trumps and honours were showered upon his hands.
Once, having resolved on a bold stroke, he was on the point of playing a spade, when a voice behind him said, “I should play a diamond.”
Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Fix raised their heads, and beheld Colonel Proctor.
Stamp Proctor and Phileas Fogg recognised each other at once.
“Ah! it’s you, is it, Englishman?” cried the colonel; “it’s you who are going to play a spade!”
“And who plays it,” replied Phileas Fogg coolly, throwing down the ten of spades.
“Well, it pleases me to have it diamonds,” replied Colonel Proctor, in an insolent tone.
He made a movement as if to seize the card which had just been played, adding, “You don’t understand anything about whist.”
“Perhaps I do, as well as another,” said Phileas Fogg, rising.
“You have only to try, son of John Bull,” replied the colonel.
Aouda turned pale, and her blood ran cold. She seized Mr. Fogg’s arm and gently pulled him back. Passepartout was ready to pounce upon the American, who was staring insolently at his opponent. But Fix got up, and, going to Colonel Proctor said, “You forget that it is I with whom you have to deal, sir; for it was I whom you not only insulted, but struck!”
“Mr. Fix,” said Mr. Fogg, “pardon me, but this affair is mine, and mine only. The colonel has again insulted me, by insisting that I should not play a spade, and he shall give me satisfaction for it.”
“When and where you will,” replied the American, “and with whatever weapon you choose.”
Aouda in vain attempted to retain Mr. Fogg; as vainly did the detective endeavour to make the quarrel his. Passepartout wished to throw the colonel out of the window, but a sign from his master checked him. Phileas Fogg left the car, and the American followed him upon the platform. “Sir,” said Mr. Fogg to his adversary, “I am in a great hurry to get back to Europe, and any delay whatever will be greatly to my disadvantage.”
“Well, what’s that to me?” replied Colonel Proctor.
“Sir,” said Mr. Fogg, very politely, “after our meeting at San Francisco, I determined to return to America and find you as soon as I had completed the business which called me to England.”
“Really!”
“Will you appoint a meeting for six months hence?”
“Why not ten years hence?”
“I say six months,” returned Phileas Fogg; “and I shall be at the place of meeting promptly.”
“All this is an evasion,” cried Stamp Proctor. “Now or never!”
“Very good. You are going to New York?”
“No.”
“To Chicago?”
“No.”
“To Omaha?”
“What difference is it to you? Do you know Plum Creek?”
“No,” replied Mr. Fogg.
“It’s the next station. The train will be there in an hour, and will stop there ten minutes. In ten minutes several revolver-shots could be exchanged.”
“Very well,” said Mr. Fogg. “I will stop at Plum Creek.”
“And I guess you’ll stay there too,” added the American insolently.
“Who knows?” replied Mr. Fogg, returning to the car as coolly as usual. He began to reassure Aouda, telling her that blusterers were never to be feared, and begged Fix to be his second at the approaching duel, a request which the detective could not refuse. Mr. Fogg resumed the interrupted game with perfect calmness.
At eleven o’clock the locomotive’s whistle announced that they were approaching Plum Creek station. Mr. Fogg rose, and, followed by Fix, went out upon the platform. Passepartout accompanied him, carrying a pair of revolvers. Aouda remained in the car, as pale as death.
The door of the next car opened, and Colonel Proctor appeared on the platform, attended by a Yankee of his own stamp as his second. But just as the combatants were about to step from the train, the conductor hurried up, and shouted, “You can’t get off, gentlemen!”
“Why not?” asked the colonel.
“We are twenty minutes late, and we shall not stop.”
“But I am going to fight a duel with this gentleman.”
“I am sorry,” said the conductor; “but we shall be off at once. There’s the bell ringing now.”
The train started.
“I’m really very sorry, gentlemen,” said the conductor. “Under any other circumstances I should have been happy to oblige you. But, after all, as you have not had time to fight here, why not fight as we go along?”
“That wouldn’t be convenient, perhaps, for this gentleman,” said the colonel, in a jeering tone.
“It would be perfectly so,” replied Phileas Fogg.
“Well, we are really in America,” thought Passepartout, “and the conductor is a gentleman of the first order!”
So muttering, he followed his master.
The two combatants, their seconds, and the conductor passed through the cars to the rear of the train. The last car was only occupied by a dozen passengers, whom the conductor politely asked if they would not be so kind as to leave it vacant for a few moments, as two gentlemen had an affair of honour to settle. The passengers granted the request with alacrity, and straightway disappeared on the platform.
The car, which was some fifty feet long, was very convenient for their purpose. The adversaries might march on each other in the aisle, and fire at their ease. Never was duel more easily arranged. Mr. Fogg and Colonel Proctor, each provided with two six-barrelled revolvers, entered the car. The seconds, remaining outside, shut them in. They were to begin firing at the first whistle of the locomotive. After an interval of two minutes, what remained of the two gentlemen would be taken from the car.
Nothing could be more simple. Indeed, it was all so simple that Fix and Passepartout felt their hearts beating as if they would crack. They were listening for the whistle agreed upon, when suddenly savage cries resounded in the air, accompanied by reports which certainly did not issue from the car where the duellists were. The reports continued in front and the whole length of the train. Cries of terror proceeded from the interior of the cars.
Colonel Proctor and Mr. Fogg, revolvers in hand, hastily quitted their prison, and rushed forward where the noise was most clamorous. They then perceived that the train was attacked by a band of Sioux.
This was not the first attempt of these daring Indians, for more than once they had waylaid trains on the road. A hundred of them had, according to their habit, jumped upon the steps without stopping the train, with the ease of a clown mounting a horse at full gallop.
The Sioux were armed with guns, from which came the reports, to which the passengers, who were almost all armed, responded by revolver-shots.
The Indians had first mounted the engine, and half stunned the engineer and stoker with blows from their muskets. A Sioux chief, wishing to stop the train, but not knowing how to work the regulator, had opened wide instead of closing the steam-valve, and the locomotive was plunging forward with terrific velocity.
The Sioux had at the same time invaded the cars, skipping like enraged monkeys over the roofs, thrusting open the doors, and fighting hand to hand with the passengers. Penetrating the baggage-car, they pillaged it, throwing the trunks out of the train. The cries and shots were constant. The travellers defended themselves bravely; some of the cars were barricaded, and sustained a siege, like moving forts, carried along at a speed of a hundred miles an hour.
Aouda behaved courageously from the first. She defended herself like a true heroine with a revolver, which she shot through the broken windows whenever a savage made his appearance. Twenty Sioux had fallen mortally wounded to the ground, and the wheels crushed those who fell upon the rails as if they had been worms. Several passengers, shot or stunned, lay on the seats.
It was necessary to put an end to the struggle, which had lasted for ten minutes, and which would result in the triumph of the Sioux if the train was not stopped. Fort Kearney station, where there was a garrison, was only two miles distant; but, that once passed, the Sioux would be masters of the train between Fort Kearney and the station beyond.
The conductor was fighting beside Mr. Fogg, when he was shot and fell. At the same moment he cried, “Unless the train is stopped in five minutes, we are lost!”
“It shall be stopped,” said Phileas Fogg, preparing to rush from the car.
“Stay, monsieur,” cried Passepartout; “I will go.”
Mr. Fogg had not time to stop the brave fellow, who, opening a door unperceived by the Indians, succeeded in slipping under the car; and while the struggle continued and the balls whizzed across each other over his head, he made use of his old acrobatic experience, and with amazing agility worked his way under the cars, holding on to the chains, aiding himself by the brakes and edges of the sashes, creeping from one car to another with marvellous skill, and thus gaining the forward end of the train.
There, suspended by one hand between the baggage-car and the tender, with the other he loosened the safety chains; but, owing to the traction, he would never have succeeded in unscrewing the yoking-bar, had not a violent concussion jolted this bar out. The train, now detached from the engine, remained a little behind, whilst the locomotive rushed forward with increased speed.
Carried on by the force already acquired, the train still moved for several minutes; but the brakes were worked and at last they stopped, less than a hundred feet from Kearney station.
The soldiers of the fort, attracted by the shots, hurried up; the Sioux had not expected them, and decamped in a body before the train entirely stopped.
But when the passengers counted each other on the station platform several were found missing; among others the courageous Frenchman, whose devotion had just saved them.
Three passengers including Passepartout had disappeared. Had they been killed in the struggle? Were they taken prisoners by the Sioux? It was impossible to tell.
There were many wounded, but none mortally. Colonel Proctor was one of the most seriously hurt; he had fought bravely, and a ball had entered his groin. He was carried into the station with the other wounded passengers, to receive such attention as could be of avail.
Aouda was safe; and Phileas Fogg, who had been in the thickest of the fight, had not received a scratch. Fix was slightly wounded in the arm. But Passepartout was not to be found, and tears coursed down Aouda’s cheeks.
All the passengers had got out of the train, the wheels of which were stained with blood. From the tyres and spokes hung ragged pieces of flesh. As far as the eye could reach on the white plain behind, red trails were visible. The last Sioux were disappearing in the south, along the banks of Republican River.
Mr. Fogg, with folded arms, remained motionless. He had a serious decision to make. Aouda, standing near him, looked at him without speaking, and he understood her look. If his servant was a prisoner, ought he not to risk everything to rescue him from the Indians? “I will find him, living or dead,” said he quietly to Aouda.
“Ah, Mr.—Mr. Fogg!” cried she, clasping his hands and covering them with tears.
“Living,” added Mr. Fogg, “if we do not lose a moment.”
Phileas Fogg, by this resolution, inevitably sacrificed himself; he pronounced his own doom. The delay of a single day would make him lose the steamer at New York, and his bet would be certainly lost. But as he thought, “It is my duty,” he did not hesitate.
The commanding officer of Fort Kearney was there. A hundred of his soldiers had placed themselves in a position to defend the station, should the Sioux attack it.
“Sir,” said Mr. Fogg to the captain, “three passengers have disappeared.”
“Dead?” asked the captain.
“Dead or prisoners; that is the uncertainty which must be solved. Do you propose to pursue the Sioux?”
“That’s a serious thing to do, sir,” returned the captain. “These Indians may retreat beyond the Arkansas, and I cannot leave the fort unprotected.”
“The lives of three men are in question, sir,” said Phileas Fogg.
“Doubtless; but can I risk the lives of fifty men to save three?”
“I don’t know whether you can, sir; but you ought to do so.”
“Nobody here,” returned the other, “has a right to teach me my duty.”
“Very well,” said Mr. Fogg, coldly. “I will go alone.”
“You, sir!” cried Fix, coming up; “you go alone in pursuit of the Indians?”
“Would you have me leave this poor fellow to perish—him to whom every one present owes his life? I shall go.”
“No, sir, you shall not go alone,” cried the captain, touched in spite of himself. “No! you are a brave man. Thirty volunteers!” he added, turning to the soldiers.
The whole company started forward at once. The captain had only to pick his men. Thirty were chosen, and an old sergeant placed at their head.
“Thanks, captain,” said Mr. Fogg.
“Will you let me go with you?” asked Fix.
“Do as you please, sir. But if you wish to do me a favour, you will remain with Aouda. In case anything should happen to me—”
A sudden pallor overspread the detective’s face. Separate himself from the man whom he had so persistently followed step by step! Leave him to wander about in this desert! Fix gazed attentively at Mr. Fogg, and, despite his suspicions and of the struggle which was going on within him, he lowered his eyes before that calm and frank look.
“I will stay,” said he.
A few moments after, Mr. Fogg pressed the young woman’s hand, and, having confided to her his precious carpet-bag, went off with the sergeant and his little squad. But, before going, he had said to the soldiers, “My friends, I will divide five thousand dollars among you, if we save the prisoners.”
It was then a little past noon.
Aouda retired to a waiting-room, and there she waited alone, thinking of the simple and noble generosity, the tranquil courage of Phileas Fogg. He had sacrificed his fortune, and was now risking his life, all without hesitation, from duty, in silence.
Fix did not have the same thoughts, and could scarcely conceal his agitation. He walked feverishly up and down the platform, but soon resumed his outward composure. He now saw the folly of which he had been guilty in letting Fogg go alone. What! This man, whom he had just followed around the world, was permitted now to separate himself from him! He began to accuse and abuse himself, and, as if he were director of police, administered to himself a sound lecture for his greenness.
“I have been an idiot!” he thought, “and this man will see it. He has gone, and won’t come back! But how is it that I, Fix, who have in my pocket a warrant for his arrest, have been so fascinated by him? Decidedly, I am nothing but an ass!”
So reasoned the detective, while the hours crept by all too slowly. He did not know what to do. Sometimes he was tempted to tell Aouda all; but he could not doubt how the young woman would receive his confidences. What course should he take? He thought of pursuing Fogg across the vast white plains; it did not seem impossible that he might overtake him. Footsteps were easily printed on the snow! But soon, under a new sheet, every imprint would be effaced.
Fix became discouraged. He felt a sort of insurmountable longing to abandon the game altogether. He could now leave Fort Kearney station, and pursue his journey homeward in peace.
Towards two o’clock in the afternoon, while it was snowing hard, long whistles were heard approaching from the east. A great shadow, preceded by a wild light, slowly advanced, appearing still larger through the mist, which gave it a fantastic aspect. No train was expected from the east, neither had there been time for the succour asked for by telegraph to arrive; the train from Omaha to San Francisco was not due till the next day. The mystery was soon explained.
The locomotive, which was slowly approaching with deafening whistles, was that which, having been detached from the train, had continued its route with such terrific rapidity, carrying off the unconscious engineer and stoker. It had run several miles, when, the fire becoming low for want of fuel, the steam had slackened; and it had finally stopped an hour after, some twenty miles beyond Fort Kearney. Neither the engineer nor the stoker was dead, and, after remaining for some time in their swoon, had come to themselves. The train had then stopped. The engineer, when he found himself in the desert, and the locomotive without cars, understood what had happened. He could not imagine how the locomotive had become separated from the train; but he did not doubt that the train left behind was in distress.
He did not hesitate what to do. It would be prudent to continue on to Omaha, for it would be dangerous to return to the train, which the Indians might still be engaged in pillaging. Nevertheless, he began to rebuild the fire in the furnace; the pressure again mounted, and the locomotive returned, running backwards to Fort Kearney. This it was which was whistling in the mist.
The travellers were glad to see the locomotive resume its place at the head of the train. They could now continue the journey so terribly interrupted.
Aouda, on seeing the locomotive come up, hurried out of the station, and asked the conductor, “Are you going to start?”
“At once, madam.”
“But the prisoners, our unfortunate fellow-travellers—”
“I cannot interrupt the trip,” replied the conductor. “We are already three hours behind time.”
“And when will another train pass here from San Francisco?”
“To-morrow evening, madam.”
“To-morrow evening! But then it will be too late! We must wait—”
“It is impossible,” responded the conductor. “If you wish to go, please get in.”
“I will not go,” said Aouda.
Fix had heard this conversation. A little while before, when there was no prospect of proceeding on the journey, he had made up his mind to leave Fort Kearney; but now that the train was there, ready to start, and he had only to take his seat in the car, an irresistible influence held him back. The station platform burned his feet, and he could not stir. The conflict in his mind again began; anger and failure stifled him. He wished to struggle on to the end.
Meanwhile the passengers and some of the wounded, among them Colonel Proctor, whose injuries were serious, had taken their places in the train. The buzzing of the over-heated boiler was heard, and the steam was escaping from the valves. The engineer whistled, the train started, and soon disappeared, mingling its white smoke with the eddies of the densely falling snow.
The detective had remained behind.
Several hours passed. The weather was dismal, and it was very cold. Fix sat motionless on a bench in the station; he might have been thought asleep. Aouda, despite the storm, kept coming out of the waiting-room, going to the end of the platform, and peering through the tempest of snow, as if to pierce the mist which narrowed the horizon around her, and to hear, if possible, some welcome sound. She heard and saw nothing. Then she would return, chilled through, to issue out again after the lapse of a few moments, but always in vain.
Evening came, and the little band had not returned. Where could they be? Had they found the Indians, and were they having a conflict with them, or were they still wandering amid the mist? The commander of the fort was anxious, though he tried to conceal his apprehensions. As night approached, the snow fell less plentifully, but it became intensely cold. Absolute silence rested on the plains. Neither flight of bird nor passing of beast troubled the perfect calm.
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Former Southport A&E Doctor Made Up Qualifications in Bid to Win Lucrative Work as Expert Court Witness
A former Merseyside A&E doctor who filled his CV with bogus qualifications in a bid to win work as an expert witness in court cases was struck off.
Dr Titus Odedun, an ex-consultant in A&E medicine at Southport and Ormskirk hospitals, pretended to be a specialist in trauma, orthopaedics and surgery.
A medical misconduct tribunal ruled he had “no right to use the various titles he awarded himself” and found he did so “in order to obtain a greater volume of medico-legal work at a significantly higher fee”.
Odedun gave expert evidence in court cases while claiming to be more highly trained than he was, as well as exaggerating his professional experience in witness statements.
He also claimed to be a consultant in trauma and orthopaedic surgery in an online database of medical experts, despite having no such qualifications.
The tribunal described his lies as “persistent misbehaviour over a long period of time” and ruled his name should be erased from the doctors’ register.
The Medical Practitioners Tribunal Service (MPTS) said in its ruling: “His conduct amounts to persistent dishonesty and an abuse of his position as an expert. Dr Odedun’s misconduct was a serious breach of good medical practice.”
A medical expert, known only as Mr A, who testified against Odedun, said he would have been the “youngest consultant ever” if his alleged work history had been accurate.
The MPTS made the following rulings:
That Odedun “falsely stated” on his profile on the website expertsearch in 2011 that he was a consultant trauma and orthopaedic surgeon.
That he “falsely stated” he was a member of the Surgical Research Society.
That he prepared 18 medico-legal reports in which he “falsely stated” he was a consultant in trauma and aesthetics surgery and orthopaedics – as well as making this same claim “whist giving evidence in court” in November 2007.
That he “falsely stated” in a witness statement in June 2008 that he had worked as a consultant surgeon at Stoke Mandeville Hospital and Southport and Ormskirk hospitals.
That, during a court hearing in February 2009, he “agreed that you were a consultant trauma surgeon when you knew that you were not”.
That while giving evidence in court in August 2010, Odedun “falsely stated” he was a fellow of the Faculty of A&E Medicine when in fact his membership had lapsed, as well as claiming to be a consultant in trauma and aesthetics surgery and an orthopaedics consultant.
That in a witness statement in December 2011, he “falsely stated” he was a consultant trauma and A&E surgeon.
Southport and Ormskirk Hospital NHS Trust confirmed to the MPTS that Odedun worked as an A&E consultant from 1992 until his retirement in 2005, after which he began taking on medico-legal work as an expert witness.
The doctor’s prognosis
The ECHO approached Odedun at his luxury Southport home. He told an ECHO reporter that a solicitor’s firm based in Manchester had brought the case against him because he was so successful with whiplash claimant reports.
Odedun said: “The General Medical Council (GMC) have found me guilty of practising in three different areas - accident and emergency, cosmetic and orthopaedics. The GMC only qualified me in accident and emergency but I am a surgeon trained in cosmetics and orthopaedics.
“I have more than 25 years of cosmetic experience and no single complaint from any patient.”
The former doctor who is now retired, said: “This has spoilt my name. I have 38 years of unblemished medical practice with medical certificates to prove it.”
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Thanks Dr. Marsha Noble for being a great leader in the music and educational arena!
Dr. Marsha has a community event EVERY 3RD SATURDAY of the Month
Ellis Park, 3520 S. Cottage Grove 12-4pm CST
more at
Facebook.com/ZeldaSpeaks
#thefemalesolution#higherlearning#drmarshanoble#bidwhist#cardgames#sunday#ancestors#womensherstorymonth
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You can get your Spades or Bid Whist Game on this evening also!
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Around the world in 80 days, Jules Verne
CHAPTER X.
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT IS ONLY TOO GLAD TO GET OFF WITH THE LOSS OF HIS SHOES
Everybody knows that the great reversed triangle of land, with its base in the north and its apex in the south, which is called India, embraces fourteen hundred thousand square miles, upon which is spread unequally a population of one hundred and eighty millions of souls. The British Crown exercises a real and despotic dominion over the larger portion of this vast country, and has a governor-general stationed at Calcutta, governors at Madras, Bombay, and in Bengal, and a lieutenant-governor at Agra.
But British India, properly so called, only embraces seven hundred thousand square miles, and a population of from one hundred to one hundred and ten millions of inhabitants. A considerable portion of India is still free from British authority; and there are certain ferocious rajahs in the interior who are absolutely independent. The celebrated East India Company was all-powerful from 1756, when the English first gained a foothold on the spot where now stands the city of Madras, down to the time of the great Sepoy insurrection. It gradually annexed province after province, purchasing them of the native chiefs, whom it seldom paid, and appointed the governor-general and his subordinates, civil and military. But the East India Company has now passed away, leaving the British possessions in India directly under the control of the Crown. The aspect of the country, as well as the manners and distinctions of race, is daily changing.
Formerly one was obliged to travel in India by the old cumbrous methods of going on foot or on horseback, in palanquins or unwieldy coaches; now fast steamboats ply on the Indus and the Ganges, and a great railway, with branch lines joining the main line at many points on its route, traverses the peninsula from Bombay to Calcutta in three days. This railway does not run in a direct line across India. The distance between Bombay and Calcutta, as the bird flies, is only from one thousand to eleven hundred miles; but the deflections of the road increase this distance by more than a third.
The general route of the Great Indian Peninsula Railway is as follows: Leaving Bombay, it passes through Salcette, crossing to the continent opposite Tannah, goes over the chain of the Western Ghauts, runs thence north-east as far as Burhampoor, skirts the nearly independent territory of Bundelcund, ascends to Allahabad, turns thence eastwardly, meeting the Ganges at Benares, then departs from the river a little, and, descending south-eastward by Burdivan and the French town of Chandernagor, has its terminus at Calcutta.
The passengers of the “Mongolia” went ashore at half-past four p.m.; at exactly eight the train would start for Calcutta.
Mr. Fogg, after bidding good-bye to his whist partners, left the steamer, gave his servant several errands to do, urged it upon him to be at the station promptly at eight, and, with his regular step, which beat to the second, like an astronomical clock, directed his steps to the passport office. As for the wonders of Bombay—its famous city hall, its splendid library, its forts and docks, its bazaars, mosques, synagogues, its Armenian churches, and the noble pagoda on Malabar Hill, with its two polygonal towers—he cared not a straw to see them. He would not deign to examine even the masterpieces of Elephanta, or the mysterious hypogea, concealed south-east from the docks, or those fine remains of Buddhist architecture, the Kanherian grottoes of the island of Salcette.
Having transacted his business at the passport office, Phileas Fogg repaired quietly to the railway station, where he ordered dinner. Among the dishes served up to him, the landlord especially recommended a certain giblet of “native rabbit,” on which he prided himself.
Mr. Fogg accordingly tasted the dish, but, despite its spiced sauce, found it far from palatable. He rang for the landlord, and, on his appearance, said, fixing his clear eyes upon him, “Is this rabbit, sir?”
“Yes, my lord,” the rogue boldly replied, “rabbit from the jungles.”
“And this rabbit did not mew when he was killed?”
“Mew, my lord! What, a rabbit mew! I swear to you—”
“Be so good, landlord, as not to swear, but remember this: cats were formerly considered, in India, as sacred animals. That was a good time.”
“For the cats, my lord?”
“Perhaps for the travellers as well!”
After which Mr. Fogg quietly continued his dinner. Fix had gone on shore shortly after Mr. Fogg, and his first destination was the headquarters of the Bombay police. He made himself known as a London detective, told his business at Bombay, and the position of affairs relative to the supposed robber, and nervously asked if a warrant had arrived from London. It had not reached the office; indeed, there had not yet been time for it to arrive. Fix was sorely disappointed, and tried to obtain an order of arrest from the director of the Bombay police. This the director refused, as the matter concerned the London office, which alone could legally deliver the warrant. Fix did not insist, and was fain to resign himself to await the arrival of the important document; but he was determined not to lose sight of the mysterious rogue as long as he stayed in Bombay. He did not doubt for a moment, any more than Passepartout, that Phileas Fogg would remain there, at least until it was time for the warrant to arrive.
Passepartout, however, had no sooner heard his master’s orders on leaving the “Mongolia” than he saw at once that they were to leave Bombay as they had done Suez and Paris, and that the journey would be extended at least as far as Calcutta, and perhaps beyond that place. He began to ask himself if this bet that Mr. Fogg talked about was not really in good earnest, and whether his fate was not in truth forcing him, despite his love of repose, around the world in eighty days!
Having purchased the usual quota of shirts and shoes, he took a leisurely promenade about the streets, where crowds of people of many nationalities—Europeans, Persians with pointed caps, Banyas with round turbans, Sindes with square bonnets, Parsees with black mitres, and long-robed Armenians—were collected. It happened to be the day of a Parsee festival. These descendants of the sect of Zoroaster—the most thrifty, civilised, intelligent, and austere of the East Indians, among whom are counted the richest native merchants of Bombay—were celebrating a sort of religious carnival, with processions and shows, in the midst of which Indian dancing-girls, clothed in rose-coloured gauze, looped up with gold and silver, danced airily, but with perfect modesty, to the sound of viols and the clanging of tambourines. It is needless to say that Passepartout watched these curious ceremonies with staring eyes and gaping mouth, and that his countenance was that of the greenest booby imaginable.
Unhappily for his master, as well as himself, his curiosity drew him unconsciously farther off than he intended to go. At last, having seen the Parsee carnival wind away in the distance, he was turning his steps towards the station, when he happened to espy the splendid pagoda on Malabar Hill, and was seized with an irresistible desire to see its interior. He was quite ignorant that it is forbidden to Christians to enter certain Indian temples, and that even the faithful must not go in without first leaving their shoes outside the door. It may be said here that the wise policy of the British Government severely punishes a disregard of the practices of the native religions.
Passepartout, however, thinking no harm, went in like a simple tourist, and was soon lost in admiration of the splendid Brahmin ornamentation which everywhere met his eyes, when of a sudden he found himself sprawling on the sacred flagging. He looked up to behold three enraged priests, who forthwith fell upon him; tore off his shoes, and began to beat him with loud, savage exclamations. The agile Frenchman was soon upon his feet again, and lost no time in knocking down two of his long-gowned adversaries with his fists and a vigorous application of his toes; then, rushing out of the pagoda as fast as his legs could carry him, he soon escaped the third priest by mingling with the crowd in the streets.
At five minutes before eight, Passepartout, hatless, shoeless, and having in the squabble lost his package of shirts and shoes, rushed breathlessly into the station.
Fix, who had followed Mr. Fogg to the station, and saw that he was really going to leave Bombay, was there, upon the platform. He had resolved to follow the supposed robber to Calcutta, and farther, if necessary. Passepartout did not observe the detective, who stood in an obscure corner; but Fix heard him relate his adventures in a few words to Mr. Fogg.
“I hope that this will not happen again,” said Phileas Fogg coldly, as he got into the train. Poor Passepartout, quite crestfallen, followed his master without a word. Fix was on the point of entering another carriage, when an idea struck him which induced him to alter his plan.
“No, I’ll stay,” muttered he. “An offence has been committed on Indian soil. I’ve got my man.”
Just then the locomotive gave a sharp screech, and the train passed out into the darkness of the night.
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Card dealers across the country are commemorating the game of spades—a classic trick-taking card game originating from the United States—in honor of National Spades Day. The event falls on the 22nd of August each year and celebrates the game's rich history, longevity, and continued popularity.
Spades has been played since the 1930s and is said to be the most widely played card game in the country. While the game can be quite complex and requires strategy and accurate counting, it is also incredibly accessible and can be enjoyed by players from all walks of life. With its unique scoring system and ability to be adapted to any situation, from a game night among friends to a professional tournament between peers, it's no wonder the game has endured for centuries.
This year, dealers are demonstrating their love for the game by holding a variety of special events. Many card rooms are featuring special tournament prizes to commemorate the event, and PCaffe is hosting an online tournament with cash prizes. For those unable to attend in person, PCaffe is also offering a virtual tournament to spread the excitement of Spades Day.
In addition, dealers are working to spread the history of the game, which is rooted in African-American culture. With its origins in 1930s Chicago, the game combines elements of the African game of Bid Whist, the English game of Bridge, and the French game of Piquet. As a result, the game has provided an important way for African Americans to stay connected and enjoy card games together.
Dealers are excitedly celebrating this special day in a variety of ways—from early morning tournaments to evening festivities. So, if you've been thinking about learning the game or joining in on the fun, National Spades Day is the perfect opportunity to give it a try.
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Former Southport A&E Doctor Made Up Qualifications in Bid to Win Lucrative Work as Expert Court Witness
A former Merseyside A&E doctor who filled his CV with bogus qualifications in a bid to win work as an expert witness in court cases was struck off.
Dr Titus Odedun, an ex-consultant in A&E medicine at Southport and Ormskirk hospitals, pretended to be a specialist in trauma, orthopaedics and surgery.
A medical misconduct tribunal ruled he had “no right to use the various titles he awarded himself” and found he did so “in order to obtain a greater volume of medico-legal work at a significantly higher fee”.
Odedun gave expert evidence in court cases while claiming to be more highly trained than he was, as well as exaggerating his professional experience in witness statements.
He also claimed to be a consultant in trauma and orthopaedic surgery in an online database of medical experts, despite having no such qualifications.
The tribunal described his lies as “persistent misbehaviour over a long period of time” and ruled his name should be erased from the doctors’ register.
The Medical Practitioners Tribunal Service (MPTS) said in its ruling: “His conduct amounts to persistent dishonesty and an abuse of his position as an expert. Dr Odedun’s misconduct was a serious breach of good medical practice.”
A medical expert, known only as Mr A, who testified against Odedun, said he would have been the “youngest consultant ever” if his alleged work history had been accurate.
The MPTS made the following rulings:
That Odedun “falsely stated” on his profile on the website expertsearch in 2011 that he was a consultant trauma and orthopaedic surgeon.
That he “falsely stated” he was a member of the Surgical Research Society.
That he prepared 18 medico-legal reports in which he “falsely stated” he was a consultant in trauma and aesthetics surgery and orthopaedics – as well as making this same claim “whist giving evidence in court” in November 2007.
That he “falsely stated” in a witness statement in June 2008 that he had worked as a consultant surgeon at Stoke Mandeville Hospital and Southport and Ormskirk hospitals.
That, during a court hearing in February 2009, he “agreed that you were a consultant trauma surgeon when you knew that you were not”.
That while giving evidence in court in August 2010, Odedun “falsely stated” he was a fellow of the Faculty of A&E Medicine when in fact his membership had lapsed, as well as claiming to be a consultant in trauma and aesthetics surgery and an orthopaedics consultant.
That in a witness statement in December 2011, he “falsely stated” he was a consultant trauma and A&E surgeon.
Southport and Ormskirk Hospital NHS Trust confirmed to the MPTS that Odedun worked as an A&E consultant from 1992 until his retirement in 2005, after which he began taking on medico-legal work as an expert witness.
The doctor’s prognosis
The ECHO approached Odedun at his luxury Southport home. He told an ECHO reporter that a solicitor’s firm based in Manchester had brought the case against him because he was so successful with whiplash claimant reports.
Odedun said: “The General Medical Council (GMC) have found me guilty of practising in three different areas - accident and emergency, cosmetic and orthopaedics. The GMC only qualified me in accident and emergency but I am a surgeon trained in cosmetics and orthopaedics.
“I have more than 25 years of cosmetic experience and no single complaint from any patient.”
The former doctor who is now retired, said: “This has spoilt my name. I have 38 years of unblemished medical practice with medical certificates to prove it.”
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Most of the earliest card games were trick-taking games played in the 800s in China. These will have felt quite different to our modern eyes. They didn't have the concept of trump cards or trump suits. There was also no bidding. Trumps were added to European card games in the 1400s, followed by bidding in the 1600s. It took another 100-200 years for familiar trick-taking games like Whist and Skat to appear. A few hundred years after that, the mechanism has now found a new lease of life in modern hobby games.
Read the full article or listen to the audio version here: https://tabletopgamesblog.com/2023/06/06/trick-taking-a-modern-card-mechanism-topic-discussion/
(Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash)
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