Even Cavendish, unless “generally” is synonymous with “always,” admits the expediency of occasionally leading a short suit; “the hand, however weak, must hold one suit of four cards, and this should generally be chosen.”
[8] “The lead is quite exceptional, and many good judges have doubted whether a small one should not be led.”—The Field.
[9] As intelligent children you will, perhaps, be tempted to observe that all this is so self-evident it is scarcely worth mentioning: at your immature time of life such a mistake is pardonable, but as you grow older you will find that a determination to open ragged suits in season and out of season—especially out—is one of the strongest impulses of our imperfect nature.
[10] As defined by Captain Corcoran, R.N. In all treatises on Whist “never” is invariably used in this sense. Perhaps in presence of the New Whist which is now raging violently in America, it would be more correct here to substitute “was” for “is.”
[11] Peccavi! the lead is given in What to Lead, by Cam.
[12] Never give “the general” an opportunity for thinking if you can avoid it; this is a rule of universal application. “How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds makes ill deeds done!”
[13] It was introduced as “a proposed extension of principle,” but you had better stick to the old adage, “first catch your principle,” and leave the extension of it to some future time. Theoretical advantages of this lead, and also the echo of the signal, you will find fully set forth in “Cavendish.” In a letter to the Field, September 27th, 1879, he appears to advocate varying its monotony by occasionally leading the lowest but two. Cam, the original patentee of this invention, and one of the finest players of his day, directs you to lead the lowest but one only when you hold no honour in the suit. By this plan you can not only count your partner’s hand—the apparent end of most modern Whist—but after you have made the queen and lost your king on the return, you have the additional gratification of knowing to a certainty that he does not even hold the knave.
With regard to the echo, I have no head for intricate mathematical calculations, and therefore am unable to tell you at about what trick everything would be ready, but speaking roughly, I should be afraid that for all practical purposes the hand would occasionally be over before the signaller and the echoer had completed their operations. In the “Art of Practical Whist” you are recommended to lead the lowest but two of six. (The advice of Punch to those about to marry is applicable here.)
Mr. F. H. Lewis, in the Field, January, 1880, has propounded a scheme for sub-dividing the echo into categories, and it has recently been pointed out to me that by leading trumps in some irregular way—understood, I presume, by the inventor of the process—you can explain to your partner that you originally held four. “Is there anything whereof it may be said, see, this is new? it hath been already of old time, which was before us.” When all these improvements are in use, this is clear, the elect will return to that fine old practice known as “piping at whisk”; the rest of us to primæval chaos.
[14] “These refinements of artifice are utterly opposed to the essence of scientific Whist.”—Westminster Papers.