tchen
mysteries--a very wonder with canvasback and terrapin--who later refused
a great money offer to he chef at the White House--whom John was able
to secure. Nothing could surpass--could equal--her preparations. The
charges, like the victuals, were sky-high and tip-top. The service was
handled by three "colored gentlemen," as distinguished in manners as in
appearance, who were known far and wide by name and who dominated all
about them, including John and his patrons.

No such place ever existed before, or will ever exist again. It was
the personality of John Chamberlin, pervasive yet invisible, exhaling
a silent, welcoming radiance. General Grant once said to me, "During my
eight years in the White House, John Chamberlin once in a while--once in
a great while--came over. He did not ask for anything. He just told me
what to do, and I did it." I mentioned this to President Arthur. "Well,"
he laughingly said, "that has been my experience with John Chamberlin.
It never crosses my mind to say him 'nay.' Often I have turned this over
in my thought to reach the conclusion that being a man of sound judgment
and worldly knowledge, he has fully considered the case--his case and my
case--leaving me no reasonable objection to interpose."

John obtained an act of Congress authorizing him to build a hotel on the
Government reservation at Fortress Monroe, and another of the Virginia
Legislature confirming this for the State. Then he came to me. It was at
the moment when I was flourishing as "a Wall Street magnate." He said:
"I want to sell this franchise to some man, or company, rich enough
to carry it through. All I expect is a nest egg for Emily and the
girls"--he had married the beautiful Emily Thorn, widow of George
Jordan, the actor, and there were two daughters--"you are hand-and-glove
with the millionaires. Won't you manage it for me?" Like Grant and
Arthur, I never thought of refusing. Upon the understanding that I
was to receive no commission, I agreed, first ascertaining that it was
really a most valuable franchise.

I began with the Willards, in whose hotel I had grown up. They were rich
and going out of business. Then I laid it before Hitchcock and Darling,
of the Fifth Avenue Hotel in New York. They, rich like the Willards,
were also retiring. Then a bright thought occurred to me. I went to the
Prince Imperial of Standard Oil. "Mr. Flagler," I said, "you have hotels
at St. Augustine and you have hotels at Palm Beach.