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The archivists requested a donkey, but what they got from the mayor’s office were four wary black sheep,which, as of Wednesday morning, were chewing away at a lumpy field of grass beside the municipal archives building as the City of Paris’s newest, shaggiest lawn mowers. Mayor Bertrand Delano has made the environment a priority since his election in 2001, with popular bike- and car-sharing programs, an expanded network of designated lanes for bicycles and buses, and an enormous project to pedestrianize the banks along much of the Seine.<br>The sheep, which are to mow (and, not inconsequentially, fertilize) an airy half-acre patch in the 19th District intended in the same spirit. City Hall refers to the project as “eco-grazing,” and it notes that the four ewes will prevent the use of noisy, gas-guzzling mowers and cut down on the use of herbicides. Paris has plans for a slightly larger eco-grazing project not far from the archives building, assuming all goes well; similar projects have been under way in smaller towns in the region in recent years.<br>The sheep, from a rare, diminutive Breton breed called Ouessant, stand just about two feet high. Chosen for their hardiness, city officials said, they will pasture here until October inside a three-foot-high, yellow electrified fence.<br>“This is really not a one-shot deal,” insisted René Dutrey, the adjunct mayor for the environment and sustainable development. Mr. Dutrey, a fast-talking man in orange-striped Adidas Samba sneakers, noted that the sheep had cost the city a total of just about $335, though no further economic projections have been drawn up for the time being.<br>A metal fence surrounds the grounds of the archives, and a security guard stands watch at the gate, so there is little risk that local predators — large, unleashed dogs, for instance — will be able to reach the ewes.<br>Curious humans, however, are encouraged to visit the sheep, and perhaps the archives, too. The eco-grazing project began as an initiative to attract the public to the archives, and informational panels have been put in place to explain what, exactly, the sheep are doing here.<br>“Myself, I wanted a donkey,” said Agnès Masson, the director of the archives, an ultramodern 1990 edifice built of concrete and glass. Sheep, it was decided, would be more appropriate.<br>But the archivists have had to be trained to care for the animals. In the unlikely event that a ewe should flip onto her back, Ms. Masson said, someone must rush to put her back on her feet.<br>Norman Joseph Woodland was born in Atlantic City on Sept. 6, 1921. As a Boy Scout he learned Morse code, the spark that would ignite his invention.<br>After spending World War II on the Manhattan Project , Mr. Woodland resumed his studies at the Drexel Institute of Technology in Philadelphia (it is now Drexel University), earning a bachelor’s degree in 1947.<br>As an undergraduate, Mr. Woodland perfected a system for delivering elevator music efficiently. He planned to pursue the project commercially, but his father, who had come of age in “Boardwalk Empire”-era Atlantic City, forbade it: elevator music, he said, was controlled by the mob, and no son of his was going to come within spitting distance.<br>The younger Mr. Woodland returned to Drexel for a master’s degree. In 1948, a local supermarket executive visited the campus, where he implored a dean to develop an efficient means of encoding product data. The dean demurred, but Mr. Silver, a fellow graduate student who overheard their conversation, was intrigued. He conscripted Mr. Woodland.<br>An early idea of theirs, which involved printing product information in fluorescent ink and reading it with ultraviolet light, proved unworkable.<br>But Mr. Woodland, convinced that a solution was close at hand, quit graduate school to devote himself to the problem. He holed up at his grandparents’ home in Miami Beach, where he spent the winter of 1948-49 in a chair in the sand, thinking.<br>To represent information visually, he realized, he would need a code. The only code he knew was the one he had learned in the Boy Scouts.<br>What would happen, Mr. Woodland wondered one day, if Morse code, with its elegant simplicity and limitless combinatorial potential, were adapted graphically? He began trailing his fingers idly through the sand.<br>“What I’m going to tell you sounds like a fairy tale,” Mr. Woodland told Smithsonian magazine in 1999. “I poked my four fingers into the sand and for whatever reason — I didn’t know — I pulled my hand toward me and drew four lines. I said: ‘Golly! Now I have four lines, and they could be wide lines and narrow lines instead of dots and dashes.’”<br>Today, bar codes appears on the surface of almost every product of contemporary life.All because a bright young man, his mind ablaze with dots and dashes, one day raked his fingers through the sand.


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【英译汉必译题】<br>This week and next, governments, international agencies and nongovernmental organizations are gathering in Mexico City at the World Water Forum to discuss the legacy of global Mulhollandism in water - and to chart a new course.<br>They could hardly have chosen a better location. Water is being pumped out of the aquifer on which Mexico City stands at twice the rate of replenishment. The result: the city is subsiding at the rate of about half a meter every decade. You can see the consequences in the cracked cathedrals, the tilting Palace of Arts and the broken water and sewerage pipes.<br>Every region of the world has its own variant of the water crisis story. The mining of groundwaters for irrigation has lowered the water table in parts of India and Pakistan by 30 meters in the past three decades. As water goes down, the cost of pumping goes up, undermining the livelihoods of poor farmers.<br>What is driving the global water crisis? Physical availability is part of the problem. Unlike oil or coal, water is an infinitely renewable resource, but it is available in a finite quantity. With water use increasing at twice the rate of population growth, the amount available per person is shrinking - especially in some of the poorest countries.<br>Challenging as physical scarcity may be in some countries, the real problems in water go deeper. The 20th-century model for water management was based on a simple idea: that water is an infinitely available free resource to be exploited, dammed or diverted without reference to scarcity or sustainability.<br>Across the world, water-based ecological systems - rivers, lakes and watersheds - have been taken beyond the frontiers of ecological sustainability by policy makers who have turned a blind eye to the consequences of over- exploitation.<br>We need a new model of water management for the 21st century. What does that mean? For starters, we have to stop using water like there"s no tomorrow - and that means using it more efficiently at levels that do not destroy our environment. The buzz- phrase at the Mexico Water forum is "integrated water resource management." What it means is that governments need to manage the private demand of different users and manage this precious resource in the public interest.


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【英译汉必译题】<br>Strolling beside Amsterdam’s oldest canals, where buildings carry dates like 1541 and 1603, it is easy to imagine the city’s prosperity in the 17th century. Replace today’s bicycles and cars with horse-drawn carts, add more barges on the waterways, and this is essentially how Amsterdam must have looked to Rembrandt as he did his rounds of wealthy merchants.<br>Such musings are not, of course, unprompted. This year, Amsterdam is celebrating the 400th anniversary of Rembrandt’s birth, and it is hard to escape his shadow. His birthplace in Leiden, 20 miles south, has naturally organized its own festivities. But Amsterdam has two advantages: it boasts the world’s largest Rembrandt collection — and tourists like to come here anyway.<br>True, anniversaries can be pretty corny, but what city resists them? This year, Amsterdam is competing with Salzburg, where Mozart was born 250 years ago, and Aix-en-Provence, where Cézanne died a century ago. A sign in Amsterdam’s tourist office by the Central Station hints at one motive for such occasions: “Buy your Rembrandt products here.”<br>Still, if you start off by liking Rembrandt, as I do, there is much to discover. For instance, when in Amsterdam I always make a point of paying homage to the Rembrandt masterpieces in the Rijksmuseum, yet until now I had never bothered to visit Rembrandt House, where the painter lived from 1639 until driven out by bankruptcy in 1658. In brief, I had never much connected his art to his person.<br>Now, at least, I have made a stab at doing so because, for this anniversary (he was born on July 15, 1606), Amsterdam has organized a host of events that offer insights into Rembrandt’s world. They highlight not only what is known about his life, but also the people he painted and the city he lived in from the age of 25 until his death at 63 in 1669.<br>Although the Rijksmuseum is undergoing a massive renovation through 2009, the museum is not snubbing its favorite son. Throughout the year, in part of the building to be renovated last, it is presenting some 400 paintings and other 17th-century objects representing the Golden Age in which Rembrandt prospered. These include works by Jan Steen, Vermeer and Frans Hals as well as by Rembrandt and his pupils. And they climax with Rembrandt’s largest and best known oil, “The Night Watch,” itself the focus of “Nightwatching,” a light and sound installation by the British movie director and Amsterdam resident, Peter Greenaway.


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