I am re-reading A. Edward Newton’s The Greatest Book in the World and Other Papers (1925) and the ghosts of bookmen past envelop me. Not only from the text of Newton’s biblio-essays, but also from the copy itself—held gently, read closely, and treasured by three ardent bibliophiles, each with their bookplate on the front free endpaper and their scattered jottings crowding the rear pastedown. I see in the morning light the mild soiling on the tan boards from their hands and fingers – bookish fingerprints. The front hinge is cracked but sturdy. Newton has added a humorous inscription to the first owner. A carbon letter of the owner’s reply to Newton is attached to the front free endpaper by a dainty paperclip. Tis’ a well-loved copy – a copy that affected me emotionally when I catalogued it, surprising me in that respect for I have many association copies and this would not rank among the greats in an analytical sense. But then a yearning to tell the book’s story. So let us begin.