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Digital Subscriptions > Newsweek International > 2nd September 2016 > CHECKS, PLEASE!


Estate tweed started out as subtle, heather-colored camouflage. Then they came out of hiding


“WITH WHAT A GLORY comes and goes the year!” wrote Henry Wadsworth Longfellow in the opening lines of his poem “Autumn.” It is a theme that obviously resonated with the poet; the colors excited him, and the word picture he painted is seductive: “There is a beautiful spirit breathing now/Its mellow richness on the clustered trees,/ And, from a beaker full of richest dyes,/Pouring new glory on the autumn woods,/And dipping in warm light the pillared clouds.”

However, as a chronic heliophile, I am afraid that I cannot get quite as excited about the end of summer as the author of “The Song of Hiawatha.” The season that for Keats was “close bosom-friend of the maturing sun” is in my eyes more of a viper in the bosom; the sinister, ominous overture for shorter, darker, colder, wetter days. It is a melancholic time of year; the only reason the leaves are turning such pretty colors is because the chlorophyll is leaving them as a prelude to their withering death.

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THE ART OF THE BAD DEAL: DONALD TRUMP’S BUSINESS FLOPS, EXPLAINED For opponents of Donald Trump’s presidential run, the con-tretemps about American Indians might seem like a distant but familiar echo of the racism charges that have dogged his campaign, including his repeated taunting of Senator Elizabeth Warren as “Pocahontas” because she claims native ancestry. But, in this case, there was more to it than that: Trump, with his tantrum, was throwing away  nancial opportunities, yet another reminder that, for all his boasting of his acumen, the self-proclaimed billionaire has often been a lousy businessman.