American workers roll cigars in the 19th century. Image via Cigar Box Label Blog. September 12, 1819 Today I learned that there's nothing quite like enjoying a smooth smoke with the river running beneath your feet as the sun says fare thee well to another day. That's because Samuel insisted on sharing some of his just-bought cigars with his flatboat comrades as an after-dinner treat. Right now cigars are not so common in America, although Sam seems to know where to sniff them out on our daily stops off the boat. That's literal sniffing, because these cylinders of tightly wound tobacco sure are pungent and not for the faint of heart. But one puff, and I could see why Sam, or Stogie as we call him, is fond of them. He claims he even averted a possible attack by Native Americans on his travels by courting them with his prized cigars; imagine that! Poor Benjamin didn't fare so well. A cough, a sputter, and a watering of the eyes ended with a slap to his back and Stogie chuckling, "Slow it down, son" as I offered him a swig of water from my canteen. Stogie tells me that the hardest part of being a cigar lover is keeping them fresh. I've assured him that when I reach Cincinnati and set up shop, that a stogie container and humidor will be at the tops of my product list.