WINDOWS进程管理工具设计与实现—计算机毕业设计(论文)

，其中包括: (1)学校有权保管并向有关部门递交学位论文的原件与复印件。 (2)学校可以采用影印、缩印或其他复制方式保存学位论文。 (3)学校可以学术交流为目的复制、赠送和交换学位论文。 (4)学校可允许学位论文被查阅或借阅。 (5)学校可以公布学位论文的全部或部分内容(保密学位论文在解密后遵守此规定)。 除非另有科研和其他法律文书的制约，本论文的科研成果属于成都信息工程学院。 特此声明～ 作者签名: 2007年06月 日 第 25 页 共 25 页 FROM my father I received the best inheritance, namely a "good temper." "And who was my father?" That has nothing to do with the good temper; but I will say he was lively, good-looking round, and fat; he was both in appearance and character a complete contradiction to his profession. "And pray what was his profession and his standing in respectable society?" Well, perhaps, if in the beginning of a book these were written and printed, many, when they read it, would lay the book down and say, "It seems to me a very miserable title, I don't like things of this sort." And yet my father was not a skin-dresser nor an executioner; on the contrary, his employment placed him at the head of the grandest people of the town, and it was his place by right. He had to precede the bishop, and even the princes of the blood; he always went first,- he was a hearse driver! There, now, the truth is out. And I will own, that when people saw my father perched up in front of the omnibus of death, dressed in his long, wide, black cloak, and his black-edged, three-cornered hat on his head, and then glanced at his round, jocund face, round as the sun, they could not think much of sorrow or the grave. That face said, "It is nothing, it will all end better than people think." So I have inherited from him, not only my good temper, but a habit of going often to the churchyard, which is good, when done in a proper humor; and then also I take in the Intelligencer, just as he used to do. I am not very young, I have neither wife nor children, nor a library, but, as I said, I read the Intelligencer, which is enough for me; it is to me a delightful paper, and so it was to my father. It is of great use, for it contains all that a man requires to know; the names of the preachers at the church, and the new books which are published; where houses, servants, clothes, and provisions may be obtained. And then what a number of subscriptions to charities, and what innocent verses! Persons seeking interviews and engagements, all so plainly and naturally stated. Certainly, a man who takes in the Intelligencer may live merrily and be buried contentedly, and by the end of his life will have such a capital stock of paper that he can lie on a soft bed of it, unless he prefers wood shavings for his resting-place. The newspaper and the churchyard were always exciting objects to me. My walks to the latter were like bathing-places to my good humor. Every one can read the newspaper for himself, but come with me to the churchyard while the sun shines and the trees are green, and let us wander among the graves. Each of them is like a closed book, with the back uppermost, on which we can read the title of what the book contains, but nothing more. I had a great deal of information from my father, and I have noticed a great deal myself. I keep it in my diary, in which I write for my own use and pleasure a history of all who lie here, and a few more beside. Now we are in the churchyard. Here, behind the white iron railings, once a rose-tree grew; it is gone now, but a little bit of evergreen, from a neighboring grave, stretches out its green tendrils,and makes some appearance; there rests a very unhappy man, and yet while he lived he might be said to occupy a very good position. He had enough to live upon, and something to spare; but owing to his refined tastes the least thing in the world annoyed him. If he went to a theatre of an evening, instead of enjoying himself he would be quite annoyed if the machinist had put too strong a light into one side of the moon, or if the representations of the sky hung over the scenes when they ought to have hung behind them; or if a palm-tree was introduced into a scene representing the Zoological Gardens of Berlin, or a cactus in a view of Tyrol, or a beech-tree in the north of Norway. As if these things were of any consequence! Why did he not leave them alone? Who would trouble themselves about such trifles? especially at a comedy, where every one is expected to be amused. Then sometimes the public applauded too much, or too little, to please him. "They are like wet wood," he would say, looking round to see what sort of people were present, "this evening; nothing fires them." Then he would vex and fret himself because they did not laugh at the right time, or because they laughed in the wrong places; and so he fretted and worried himself till at last the unhappy man fretted himself into the grave. Here rests a happy man, that is to say, a man of high birth and position, which was very lucky for him, otherwise he would have been scarcely worth notice. It is beautiful to observe how wisely nature orders these things. He walked about in a coat embroidered all over,and in the drawing-rooms of society looked just like one of those rich pearl-embroidered bell-pulls, which are only made for show; and behind them always hangs a good thick cord for use. This man also had a stout, useful substitute behind him, who did duty for him, and performed all his dirty work. And there are still, even now, these serviceable cords behind other embroidered bell-ropes. It is all so wisely arranged, that a man may well be in a good humor. Here rests,- ah, it makes one feel mournful to think of him!-but here rests a man who, during sixty-seven years, was never remembered to have said a good thing; he lived only in the hope of having a good idea. At last he felt convinced, in his own mind, that he really had one, and was so delighted that he positively died of joy at the thought of having at last caught an idea. Nobody got anything by it; indeed, no one even heard what the good thing was. Now I can imagine that this same idea may prevent him from resting quietly in his grave; for suppose that to produce a good effect, it is necessary to bring out his new idea at breakfast, and that he can only make his appearance on earth at midnight, as ghosts are believed generally to do; why then this good idea would not suit the hour, and the man would have to carry it down again with him into the grave- that must be a troubled grave. The woman who lies here was so remarkably stingy, that during her life she would get up in the night and mew, that her neighbors might think she kept a cat. What a miser she was! Here rests a young lady, of a good family, who would always make her voice heard in society, and when she sang "Mi manca la voce,"* it was the only true thing she ever said in her life. * "I want a voice," or, "I have no voice." Here lies a maiden of another description. She was engaged to be married,- but, her story is one of every-day life; we will leave her to rest in the grave. Here rests a widow, who, with music in her tongue, carried gall in her heart. She used to go round among the families near, and search out their faults, upon which she preyed with all the envy and malice of her nature. This is a family grave. The members of this family held so firmly together in their opinions, that they would believe in no other. If the newspapers, or even the whole world, said of a certain subject, "It is so-and-so;" and a little schoolboy declared he had learned quite differently, they would take his assertion as the only true one, because he belonged to the family. And it is well known that if the yard-cock belonging to this family happened to crow at midnight, they would declare it was morning, although the watchman and all the clocks in the town were proclaiming the hour of twelve at night. The great poet Goethe concludes his Faust with the words, "may be continued;" so might our wanderings in the churchyard be continued. I come here often, and if any of my friends, or those who are not my friends, are too much for me, I go out and choose a plot of ground in which to bury him or her. Then I bury them, as it were; there they lie, 第 26 页 共 25 页 dead and powerless, till they come back new and better characters. Their lives and their deeds, looked at after my own fashion, I write down in my diary, as every one ought to do. Then, if any of our friends act absurdly, no one need to be vexed about it. Let them bury the offenders out of sight, and keep their good temper. They can also read the Intelligencer, which is a paper written by the people, with their hands guided. When the time comes for the history of my life, to be bound by the grave, then they will write upon it as my epitaph- "The man with a cheerful temper." E OLD MAN DOES IS ALWAYS RIGHT by Hans Christian Andersen I WILL tell you a story that was told me when I was a little boy. Every time I thought of this story, it seemed to me more and more charming; for it is with stories as it is with many people- they become better as they grow older. I have no doubt that you have been in the country, and seen a very old farmhouse, with a thatched roof, and mosses and small plants growing wild upon it. There is a stork's nest on the ridge of the gable, for we cannot do without the stork. The walls of the house are sloping, and the windows are low, and only one of the latter is made to open. The baking-oven sticks out of the wall like a great knob. An elder-tree hangs over the palings; and beneath its branches, at the foot of the paling, is a pool of water, in which a few ducks are disporting themselves. There is a yard-dog too, who barks at all corners. Just such a farmhouse as this stood in a country lane; and in it dwelt an old couple, a peasant and his wife. Small as their possessions were, they had one article they could not do without, and that was a horse, which contrived to live upon the grass which it found by the side of the high road. The old peasant rode into the town upon this horse, and his neighbors often borrowed it of him, and paid for the loan of it by rendering some service to the old couple. After a time they thought it would be as well to sell the horse, or exchange it for something which might be more useful to them. But what might this something be? "You'll know best, old man," said the wife. "It is fair-day to-day; so ride into town, and get rid of the horse for money, or make a good exchange; whichever you do will be right to me, so ride to the fair." And she fastened his neckerchief for him; for she could do that better than he could, and she could also tie it very prettily in a double bow. She also smoothed his hat round and round with the palm of her hand, and gave him a kiss. Then he rode away upon the horse that was to be sold or bartered for something else. Yes, the old man knew what he was about. The sun shone with great heat, and not a cloud was to be seen in the sky. The road was very dusty; for a number of people, all going to the fair, were driving, riding, or walking upon it. There was no shelter anywhere from the hot sunshine. Among the rest a man came trudging along, and driving a cow to the fair. The cow was as beautiful a creature as any cow could be. "She gives good milk, I am certain," said the peasant towe could keep him in the room with us. Perhaps it would 第 27 页 共 25 页 be more profitable to have a sheep than a cow. Shall I exchange?" The man with the sheep was quite ready, and the bargain was quickly made. And then our peasant continued his way on the high-road with his sheep. Soon after this, he overtook another man, who had come into the road from a field, and was carrying a large goose under his arm. "What a heavy creature you have there!" said the peasant; "it has plenty of feathers and plenty of fat, and would look well tied to a string, or paddling in the water at our place. That would be very useful to my old woman; she could make all sorts of profits out of it. How often she has said, 'If now we only had a goose!' Now here is an opportunity, and, if possible, I will get it for her. Shall we exchange? I will give you my sheep for your goose, and thanks into the bargain." The other had not the least objection, and accordingly the exchange was made, and our peasant became possessor of the goose. By this time he had arrived very near the town. The crowd on the high road had been gradually increasing, and there was quite a rush of men and cattle. The cattle walked on the path and by the palings, and at the turnpike-gate they even walked into the toll-keeper's potato-field, where one fowl was strutting about with a string tied to its leg, for fear it should take fright at the crowd, and run away and get lost. The tail-feathers of the fowl were very short, and it winked with both its eyes, and looked very cunning, as it said "Cluck, cluck." What were the thoughts of the fowl as it said this I cannot tell you; but directly our good man saw it, he thought, "Why that's the finest fowl I ever saw in my life; it's finer than our parson's brood hen, upon my word. I should like to have that fowl. Fowls can always pick up a few grains that lie about, and almost keep themselves. I think it would be a good exchange if I could get it for my goose. Shall we exchange?" he asked the toll-keeper. hapter I of Volume I IT is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters. ``My dear Mr. Bennet,'' said his lady to him one day, ``have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?'' Mr. Bennet replied that he had not. ``But it is,'' returned she; ``for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she told me all about it.'' Mr. Bennet made no answer. ``Do not you want to know who has taken it?'' cried his wife impatiently. ``You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it.'' This was invitation enough. ``Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherfield is taken by a young man of large fortune from the north of England; that he came down on Monday in a chaise and four to see the place, and was so much delighted with it that he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately; that he is to take possession before Michaelmas, and some of his servants are to be in the house by the end of next week.'' ``What is his name?'' ``Bingley.'' ``Is he married or single?'' ``Oh! single, my dear, to be sure! A single man of large fortune; four or five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!'' ``How so? how can it affect them?'' ``My dear Mr. Bennet,'' replied his wife, ``how can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them.'' ``Is that his design in settling here?'' ``Design! nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he may fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as soon as he comes.'' 第 28 页 共 25 页 ``I see no occasion for that. You and the girls may go, or you may send them by themselves, which perhaps will be still better; for, as you are as handsome as any of them, Mr. Bingley might like you the best of the party.'' ``My dear, you flatter me. I certainly have had my share of beauty, but I do not pretend to be any thing extraordinary now. When a woman has five grown up daughters, she ought to give over thinking of her own beauty.'' ``In such cases, a woman has not often much beauty to think of.'' ``But, my dear, you must indeed go and see Mr. Bingley when he comes into the neighbourhood.'' ``It is more than I engage for, I assure you.'' ``But consider your daughters. Only think what an establishment it would be for one of them. Sir William and Lady Lucas are determined to go, merely on that account, for in general, you know they visit no new comers. Indeed you must go, for it will be impossible for us to visit him, if you do not.'' ``You are over-scrupulous, surely. I dare say Mr. Bingley will be very glad to see you; and I will send a few lines by you to assure him of my hearty consent to his marrying which ever he chuses of the girls; though I must throw in a good word for my little Lizzy.'' ``I desire you will do no such thing. Lizzy is not a bit better than the others; and I am sure she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so good humoured as Lydia. But you are always giving her the preference.'' ``They have none of them much to recommend them,'' replied he; ``they are all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has something more of quickness than her sisters.'' ``Mr. Bennet, how can you abuse your own children in such way? You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion on my poor nerves.'' ``You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE: An ATHENIAN STRANGER; CLEINIAS, aCretan; MEGILLUS, a Lacedaemonian Athenian Stranger. Tell me, Strangers, is a God or some man supposedto be the author of your laws? Cleinias. A God, Stranger; in very truth a, God: among us Cretans heis said to have been Zeus, but in Lacedaemon, whence our friend herecomes, I believe they would say that Apollo is their lawgiver: wouldthey not, Megillus? Megillus. Certainly. Ath. And do you, Cleinias, believe, as Homer tells, that every ninthyear Minos went to converse with his Olympian sire, and was inspiredby him to make laws for your cities? Cle. Yes, that is our tradition; and there was Rhadamanthus, abrother of his, with whose name you are familiar; he is reputed tohave been the justest of men, and we Cretans are of opinion that heearned this reputation from his righteous administration of justicewhen he was alive. Ath. Yes, and a noble reputation it was, worthy of a son of Zeus. Asyou and Megillus have been trained in these institutions, I dare saythat you will not be unwilling to give an account of your governmentand laws; on our way we can pass the time pleasantly in about them,for I am told that the distance from Cnosus to the cave and templeof Zeus is considerable; and doubtless there are shady places underthe lofty trees, which will protect us from this scorching sun.Being no longer young, we may often stop to rest beneath them, and getover the whole journey without difficulty, beguiling the time byconversation. Cle. Yes, Stranger, and if we proceed onward we shall come to grovesof cypresses, which are of rare height and beauty, and there are greenmeadows, in which we may repose and converse. Ath. Very good. Cle. Very good, indeed; and still better when we see them; let usmove on cheerily. Ath. I am willing-And first, I want to know why the law has ordainedthat you shall have common meals and gymnastic exercises, and weararms. Cle. I think, Stranger, that the aim of our institutions is easilyintelligible to any one. Look at the character of our country: Creteis not like Thessaly, a large plain; and for this reason they havehorsemen in Thessaly, and we have runners-the inequality of the groundin our country is more adapted to locomotion on foot; but then, if youhave runners you must have light arms-no one can carry a heavyweight when running, and bows and arrows are convenient because theyare light. Now all these regulations have been made with a view towar, and the legislator appears to me to have looked to this in allhis arrangements:-the common meals, if I am not mistaken, wereinstituted by him for a similar reason, because he saw that while theyare in the field the citizens are by the nature of the casecompelled to take their meals together for the sake of mutualprotection. He seems to me to have thought the world foolish in notunderstanding that all are always at war with one another; and if inwar there ought to be common meals and certain persons regularlyappointed under others to protect an army, they should be continued inpeace. For what men in general term peace would be said by him to beonly a name; in reality every city is in a natural state of war withevery other, not indeed proclaimed by heralds, but everlasting. And ifyou look closely, you will find that this was the intention of theCretan legislator; all institutions, private as well as public, werearranged by him with a view to war; in giving them he was under theimpression that no possessions or institutions are of any value to himwho is defeated in battle; for all the good things of the conqueredpass into the hands of the conquerors. Ath. You appear to me, Stranger, to have been thoroughly trainedin the Cretan institutions, and to be well informed about them; willyou tell me a little more explicitly what is the principle ofgovernment which you would lay down? You seem to imagine that a wellgoverned state ought to be so ordered as to conquer all other statesin war: am I right in supposing this to be your meaning? Cle. Certainly; and our Lacedaemonian friend, if I am notmistaken, will agree with me. Meg. Why, my good friend, how could any Lacedaemonian say anythingelse? 第 29 页 共 25 页 Ath. And is what you say applicable only to states, or also tovillages? Cle. To both alike. Ath. The case is the same? Cle. Yes. an Stranger. And now we have to consider whether the insightinto human nature is the only benefit derived from well orderedpotations, or whether there are not other advantages great and much tobe desired. The argument seems to imply that there are. But how and inwhat way these are to be attained, will have to be consideredattentively, or we may be entangled in error. Cleinias. Proceed. Ath. Let me once more recall our doctrine of right education; which,if I am not mistaken, depends on the due regulation of convivialintercourse. Cle. You talk rather grandly. Ath. Pleasure and pain I maintain to be the first perceptions ofchildren, and I say that they are the forms under which virtue andvice are originally present to them. As to wisdom and true and fixedopinions, happy is the man who acquires them, even when declining inyears; and we may say that he who possesses them, and the blessingswhich are contained in them, is a perfect man. Now I mean by educationthat training which is given by suitable habits to the first instinctsof virtue in children;-when pleasure, and friendship, and pain, andhatred, are rightly implanted in souls not yet capable ofunderstanding the nature of them, and who find them, after they haveattained reason, to be in harmony with her. This harmony of thesoul, taken as a whole, is virtue; but the particular training inrespect of pleasure and pain, which leads you always to hate whatyou ought to hate, and love what you ought to love from thebeginning of life to the end, may be separated off; and, in my view,will be rightly called education. Cle. I think, Stranger, that you are quite right in all that youhave said and are saying about education. Ath. I am glad to hear that you agree with me; for, indeed, thediscipline of pleasure and pain which, when rightly ordered, is aprinciple of education, has been often relaxed and corrupted inhuman life. And the Gods, pitying the toils which our race is bornto undergo, have appointed holy festivals, wherein men alternaterest with labour; and have given them the Muses and Apollo, the leaderof the Muses, and Dionysus, to be companions in their revels, thatthey may improve their education by taking part in the festivals ofthe Gods, and with their help. I should like to know whether acommon saying is in our opinion true to nature or not. For men saythat the young of all creatures cannot be quiet in their bodies orin their voices; they are always wanting to move and cry out; someleaping and skipping, and overflowing with sportiveness and delight atsomething, others uttering all sorts of cries. But, whereas theanimals have no perception of order or disorder in their movements,that is, of rhythm or harmony, as they are called, to us, the Gods,who, as we say, have been appointed to be our companions in the dance,have given the pleasurable sense of harmony and rhythm; and so theystir us into life, and we follow them, joining hands together indances and songs; and these they call choruses, which is a termnaturally expressive of cheerfulness. Shall we begin, then, with theacknowledgment that education is first given through Apollo and theMuses? What do you say? Cle. I assent. Ath. And the uneducated is he who has not been trained in thechorus, and the educated is he who has been well trained? Cle. Certainly. Ath. And the chorus is made up of two parts, dance and song? Cle. Trheir faces differ? Ath. Good, my friend; I may observe, however, in passing, that inmusic there certainly are figures and there are melodies: and music isconcerned with harmony and rhythm, so that you may speak of a melodyor figure having good rhythm or good harmony-the term is correctenough; but to speak metaphorically of a melody or figure having a"good colour," as the masters of choruses do, is not allowable,although you can speak of the melodies or figures of the brave and thecoward, praising the one and censuring the other. And not to betedious, let us say that the figures and melodies which are expressiveof virtue of soul or body, or of images of virtue, are withoutexception good, and those which are expressive of vice are the reverseof good. Cle. Your suggestion is excellent; and let us answer that thesethings are so. Ath. Once more, are all of us equally delighted with every sort ofdance? Cle. Far otherwise. Ath. What, then, leads us astray? Are beautiful things not thesame to us all, or are they the same in themselves, but not in 第 30 页 共 25 页