Once a week I like to visit this little consignment shop around the corner because they have absolutely no clue on how to price art or literature. Good for me bad for them.

I just picked up this copy of Washington Irving’s, Wolfert’s Roost, published in 1873. It has an embossed cover with gold stamp, the original etching is fully intact with tissue overlay, and the entire book is in handset type. It’s the way books were meant to be.

Labels: books, ephemera, Washington Irving