n bound
for the Canadian Rockies to hunt big game, or the French banker, seeking
first-hand information about values in mines or railroads, or the
Neapolitan tenor about to fill an engagement at the Academy of Music,
turned to the captain for advice as to where to stay during the sojourn
in New York, the Briton, or the Gaul, or the Italian was likely to hear
such a flattering account of the comfort of the Brevoort and the
excellence of its _cuisine_, that any previous suggestions were promptly
forgotten. In the old-time novels of New York visiting Englishmen in
particular always "stopped" at the Brevoort. It would have been heresy
on the part of the novelist to have sent them elsewhere. Nor can any
blame be attached to romancer or steamship captain. It was always a
good hotel, but in the old days it had not yet been invaded by those who
like to play at Bohemia.

Delmonico's has had many incarnations since the day when the brothers,
Peter and John, established themselves in the humble basement at No. 27
William Street, back in 1827. First there was the move to 76 Broad
Street, and then to Broadway and Chambers Street. But to that generation
of New Yorkers of which only a few remain, there has been only one great
Delmonico's, the one which in 1861 opened its doors at the northeast
corner of Fourteenth Street and Fifth Avenue. It was the centre of the
town in the sixties and early seventies. Two blocks away was the Academy
of Music, the Metropolitan Opera House of the time, and Fourteenth
Street was burgeoning out as the new Rialto. Society set its seal upon
the establishment. The clubs of the immediate neighbourhood, of which
there were several, did not think it necessary to install _cuisines_
when Delmonico's was so close at hand. The name of the house is still a
byword in the land, but the names of Filippini and Lattard, two of the
_maitre d'hotel_ who helped to make Delmonico's famous, have been
forgotten by all but a very few. What supper parties were given in the
old establishment, and what dances of that exclusive circle to which Mr.
Ward McAllister was later to give the sticking designation of the "Four
Hundred," before the house again marched on northward to Madison Square,
and a rug-man installed himself and his wares in the halls that had been
the scene of such good cheer and so much well-bred revelry!

M. de Balzac, planning to entertain a Russian nobleman at the Restaurant
de Paris, asked the management to "p