BRIDGE
This is a popular pastime, and much of the attention of our best minds in high society is concentrated upon guessing whether a given card is in the hand of the person on the right or on the left.
As there is a great curiosity among all classes of readers concerning bridge, the benevolent author has gone into the etiquette of the game with a good deal of thoroughness.
In order to be an accomplished bridge player one must possess the following attributes:
A dress suit. (This does not apply to ladies.)
A large roll of clean bills with a rubber band encircling them.
A cigarette and ash tray.
A stoical, blond and unimpassioned nature.
A partner—usually of the opposite sex.
You may, with safety, criticise nearly every play your fair partner makes. She doubtless deserves it, but, as a rule, this criticism should not extend beyond her faultsas a player. Try to remember that a gentleman is one who never unintentionally insults anybody.
Bridge should never be played seriously. One should carry on an animated conversation during the course of play. It is customary,too, to hold the cards in one hand and a hot buttered muffin in the other. Get up from the table rather frequently and telephone, receive visitors, give orders to the servants, and pour tea. The questions, “Who led?” “What are trumps?” “Is that our trick?” etc., are always permissible, and lend some spirit to what might otherwise prove a dull and taxing game.
In playing bridge with two ladies, a man should be careful to play “highest man and highest woman.” In this way he will be playing against a man, and his chances of a “settlement” will be a little less remote. Never play with three ladies.
When you are dummy and your partner has finished playing the hand, you should invariablyglare at her (or him) and make one of the following remarks:
You played it the only way to lose the odd!
Why, in Heaven’s name, didn’t you get out the trumps?
You must lose a pot of money at this game, don’t you?
It’s lucky I’m not playing ten-cent points.
Why not take your finesse the other way?
The eight of clubs was good, you know!
Yes, if you had played your ace of diamonds we would have saved it.
It’s a pity you didn’t open the hearts.
As the leaders of the Smart Set have ceased occupying their brains with literature, music, politics, and art—subjects which were, a long time ago, discussed in our best society—and as their entire mental activities are now focused upon the game of bridge, the authorhas added for the further benefit of his readers a series of anecdotes, maxims, and experiences which he has gathered during his fruitless attempts to master this fashionable pastime.
There was a lady in thebeau mondeof New York who was not only a charming woman but an accomplished whist player. Unfortunately, however, she simplycouldnot play fair. Among other idiosyncrasies she had a distressing habit of slipping a high card on the bottom of the pack, after the cut—this was in the days when she played old-fashioned whist. In this way she was always certain of the ace, king, or queen of trumps when it was her turn to deal. She was detected in this graceful little artifice on one or two occasions, with the result that her reputation suffered a slight dimming in its glory.
A few months ago the poor lady died anda well-known bridge wag in New York composed for her the following epitaph:
“Here lies Lily Maltravers,In confident expectation ofThe last trump.”
A delightful bridge player is Mrs. R. U. Rich, who, though stone deaf, still manages to understand the declarations, or makes, by an elaborate series of manual signs. In playing with her, if the make is a heart, you must point to your heart; diamonds, to your ring; spades, you must make a shovel of your hand, and, when clubs have been declared, you must shake your fist at her. The other evening at a fashionable house in New York she was playing a rubber in which her husband was her partner. It was after a large dinner and, Mrs. Rich, having mistaken herhusband’s signal, excitedly asked him what trump had been declared. At this, her better half shook his fist at her two or three times in a very convincing way. An elderly lady, on the other side of the room, unaware of Mrs. Rich’s infirmity, gathered her dress about her and, with great dignity, begged the host to send for her carriage.
“Why, Mrs. ——,” he said, “are you leaving us so early?”
“Well,” said the lady of the old school, “I think that when a husband and wife come to blows over the bridge table it is time to call the carriages.”
A reduced gentlewoman, living in a small way in the suburbs, was at an employment agency trying to secure a cook. As the lady and her husband lived some distance from any neighbor, and as the wages shecould afford to pay were meager, the cooks displayed a decided unwillingness to assume the cares of office.
Finally, to the great elation of the lady, a very respectable and well-mannered English girl seemed disposed to risk the rigors of suburban life. The searching questions which the girl had put to the lady had been satisfactorily answered, when, at the very last, she asked the number in the family, to which the lady replied that there were only two—herself and her husband.
“Oh!” said the girl, “I could notthinkof going into service with only three in the house. I would not workanywhereunless we could make up a four at bridge.”
Husbands and wives should never play partners at bridge. They are almost certain to quarrel, which is unseemly—and if theydon’tquarrel, their friends are sure to suspect them of collusion and cheating.
It is a mistake for parents to play bridge on Sunday. The morals of children should ever be sacred in a parent’s eye. Never, therefore, allow a card to be touched on the Sabbath—until the children have gone to bed.
An inveterate bridge fiend recently proposed to a lady of some means. She, doubting his entire sincerity, mentioned his too great devotion to bridge. With a fine show of enthusiasm and erudition he burst out with:
“I could not love thee, dear, so much,Loved I not honors more.”
“I could not love thee, dear, so much,Loved I not honors more.”
“I could not love thee, dear, so much,Loved I not honors more.”
“I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Loved I not honors more.”
There is always a great deal of discussion among good bridge players as to the propriety of an original club make—with no score. As a matter of fact, a big club hand is usually disastrous whether you make it or pass it. You either leave it and get spades, or else youdon’tleave it and get the devil.
There is a lady in New York society who is as devoted to bridge as one could well be. She makes everything, except her two children, subservient to the game. She attends bridge classes, bridge teas, and bridge tournaments without end. She is, unfortunately, married to a wealthy but worthless and rascally young clubman who treats her usually with indifference, but sometimes with cruelty.
Her friends all advised her to sue for a divorce.
The poor woman was in some doubt as to what course to pursue. Finally, a brilliant idea occurred to her. She would consult her bridge teacher! He was the one man in all the world whose judgment seemed to her infallible. She trusted him more than she did her lawyer or her minister. He had solved so many difficult problems for her that he might solve this.
Mr. Elstreet was accordingly written to by the unhappy lady. His answer ran as follows:
My dear Mrs.——:I have very carefully thought over the little problem which you were good enough to submit to me for solution. It seems to me that when you have a knave alone, it is often a wise plan to discard him, but holding, as you do, a knave and two little ones, it would seem the better part of discretion not to discard him.I am, my dear Mrs. ——, yours, etc.
My dear Mrs.——:
I have very carefully thought over the little problem which you were good enough to submit to me for solution. It seems to me that when you have a knave alone, it is often a wise plan to discard him, but holding, as you do, a knave and two little ones, it would seem the better part of discretion not to discard him.
I am, my dear Mrs. ——, yours, etc.
A well-known widow in London was a guest at a large house party. She was an enthusiastic bridger. She took the game very seriously—so seriously that she frequently dreamed about it, and even, her maid declared, talked about it in her sleep.
Everybody had been playing fairly late and the ladies had gone to their rooms and “turned in” at about twelve o’clock. The men had played until about two. Shortly after this, the housekeeper, in making her final round of the house, was startled to hear the widow’s voice addressing somebody in an agonized and supplicating way.
As the door of the widow’s room was ajar, the housekeeper paused in some alarm, only to hear her call out: “My diamonds, my diamonds, why didn’t I protect them? I am lost, absolutely lost!”
The housekeeper, not knowing the intricacies of bridge and thoroughly alarmed by theidea of a burglar in the widow’s room, rushed to the host’s door and hastily summoned him to the rescue. After a somewhat noisy consultation between them, as a result of which some of the disrobing bachelors were attracted to the scene of conflict, a united descent was made upon the unfortunate widow’s stronghold. The net result of thesortiewas that the widow was greatly annoyed, the host was unmercifully chaffed, and the housekeeper received her first lesson in bridge.
Bridge
“It was,” said the Knickerbocker bridge fiend, “at the Hotel Splendide-Royale in Aix-les-Bains. I was playing twenty-cent points, which is just double my usual limit. I had lost six consecutive rubbers. I had cut, each rubber, against a peculiarly malevolent-looking Spaniard, who had a reputation atcards which was none too savory. There had been trouble about him only the day before at the Casino des Fleurs, where he had been mixed up in a somewhat unpleasant baccarat scandal. He was a crafty and sullen bridge player and I had conceived a most cordial dislike to him.
“Finally—it was hideously late and the card-room waiter was snoring in the service closet—my time for revenge arrived. It was my deal, and I saw at a glance that I had dealt myself an enormous hand. I could hardly believe my eyes. I held nine spades with the four top honors, the bare ace of clubs, the bare ace of hearts, and the king and queen of diamonds. Here was a certainty of eleven tricks at no trumps and very possibly twelve or thirteen. I looked at the Spaniard, whose turn it was to lead, and I smiled exultantly.
“‘No trumps,’ I said, the note of triumph quite perceptible in my voice. Quick as aflash the Spaniard had doubled—and quick as another I had redoubled.
“When, however, he had jacked it up to 96 a trick, I hesitated, but of course went at him again with 192. ‘Ah, ha!,’ I said to myself, ‘Mr. bird of ill omen, you are my prey, my chosen victim for the sacrifice.’
“The price per trick had soon sailed up to 1,536, and I ventured to look at my partner. He was chalky white about the gills and his eyes seemed to stare idiotically into space. His expression prompted me to take pity on him and say ‘enough.’
“Suddenly I had a terrible feeling of alarm. Had I mistaken the queen of diamonds for the queen of hearts? If so, my king of diamonds was bare and the mysterious Spaniard might run off twelve diamond tricks before I could say ‘Jack Robinson.’ With a sinking heart I looked at my hand again—all was well! The queen was surely a diamond. I glanced at the olive-skinned gentlemanand begged him to lead a card. I felt a great joy welling up within me.
“At this moment the Spaniard led a card and I looked at it nervously. As soon as my eyes beheld it my heart seemed to stop beating. He had opened the ace of a strange green suit, a suit which I had never seen before, a suit all covered with mysterious figures and symbols. I felt strangely giddy but discarded a low spade. I looked at my partner, who was the picture of despair. He said, mechanically and as though life had lost all beauty for him, ‘Having no hyppogryphs?’ to which icy inquiry I answered in a strange whisper, ‘No gryppolyphs.’
“The leader followed with another green card, a king this time, and again I sacrificed another beautiful spade. The Spaniard smiled a mahogany smile and proceeded to run off his entire suit of thirteen green cards. He then nonchalantly scored up a grand slam, the game, and a rubber of 10,450 points or$2,090. I felt my brain reeling and fainted away with my head on the card table. Very soon, however, I thought I felt the Spaniard tugging at my coat sleeve. My anger at this was beyond all bounds. I opened my eyes, prepared to strike the crafty foreigner in his wicked face, and saw—my servant standing by my bed with my breakfast tray in his hands and my bathrobe on his arm.”