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In “Federalist No. 74,” Alexander Hamilton envisioned the presidential pardon as a “benign prerogative,” an act of mercy important enough to supersede all other laws.

Late on August 24, 1814, a troop of about 150 British sailors and marines arrived at the White House. They did not come as honored guests, though they would treat themselves as such. James and Dolley Madison, the official residents, had fled earlier amid preparations for an event in the formal dining room. The table was already set, the food prepared, and the British helped themselves to a sumptuous feast, toasting the future King George IV and commenting on the fine Madeira.

As a naval aviator, Alvin Holsey trained to conduct missions that required precise targeting. For years, his job was to fly helicopters over potential targets and, using radar and other detectors, assess whether they posed a threat to the United States; if so, he had to determine whether to launch an attack.
On September 2, Holsey, now an admiral leading the U.S.

The shutdown of the federal government that began on October 1, now the second-longest in history, has also been called the “most bizarre” and the “weirdest.” What makes this fight so unusual is that it is simultaneously the least angry of the five major shutdowns since 1990 and also the hardest to resolve.

This is an edition of the Books Briefing, our editors’ weekly guide to the best in books.
Alone on the court, tennis players can seem uniquely vulnerable. When you watch team sports, so many moving parts can catch your eye, and the emotions of individual players are subsumed by the sheer number of stories on the field. The singles tennis player is on their own, a performer thrust into the spotlight each time the ball comes their way.