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A gentleman’s art: Tales of a young man’s pipe dreams

In my hometown of Bozeman, Mont., there was a pool hall that dabbled in fine English tobaccos. These came in neat little tins because they were cured under pressure allowing the juices of one type of tobacco to blend with the others. These tobaccos were sold with such names as “Capstan,” “Three Nuns” (Ain’t had none. Don’t want none. Ain’t […]