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Translate the following into Chinese．One sunny morning in June in the 1810"s, there drove up to the gates of Miss Pinkerton"s academy for young ladies, a large family coach. "It is Mrs. Seldley"s coach, sister, "said Miss Jemima. "Have you completed all the necessary preparations for Miss Sedley"s departure I trust you have made a copy of Miss Sedley"s account. Be kind enough to address it to John Sedley, and to seal this letter that I have written to his lady, "said Miss Pinkerton herself.Miss Sedley was a lovely young lady. She had such a kind, generous heart that she won the love of everyone who came near her. Her face blushed with rosy health and her eyes sparkled with the brightest and honestest goodhumor.Miss Pinkerton spoke highly of her in the letter and it completed, she began to write her own name and Miss Sedley"s on the first page of a Johnson"s Dictionary, which she always presented to her pupils on their departure.Miss Jemima, with rather a timid air, handed her sister a second copy of the book. "For Becky Sharp, "said she, " she"s going too. " " Miss Jemima!" exclaimed Miss Pinkerton, " Are you in your sense Replace the dictionary in the closet. "Miss Sedley"s father was a merchant in London and a man of some wealth, while Miss Sharp was an articled student, for whom Miss Pinkerton thought she had done enough, without conferring upon her the honor of the dictionary.Miss Sharp"s father was an artist, and had given lessons of drawing at Miss Pinkerton"s school. He was a clever man but with a habit of running into debt. He married a French opera girl. When both her parents died, Rebecca was seventeen and came to Miss Pinkerton"s school as an articled student. She was small and thin: pale, sandy haired, and with eyes habitually cast down: when they looked up they were very large, odd and attractive. The happiness, the superior advantage of the young women about her, gave Rebecca an inexpressible feeling of envy. "I am a thousand times cleverer and more charming than most of them, yet everybody ignores me. "She determined at any rate to change her fate.She took advantage of the means of study that was offered to her and went through the little course of education considered necessary for young ladies at those days. Her music she practiced continuously, and one day she was overheard to play a piece so well that Miss Pinkerton thought she could spare herself the expense of a master for the juniors and told Miss Sharp that she was to instruct them in music. To the astonishment of the headmistress, the girl refused. " I am here to speak French with the children, " Rebecca said, " not to teach them music, and save money for you. Give me money, and I will teach them. "The lady was obliged to yield, though she spoke of having nourished a snake in her chest."There is no question of gratitude between us, "was Rebecca"s answer, "You took me because I was useful. Give me a sum of money and get rid of me, or, if you like better, get me a good place as governess in a nobleman"s family. " As Miss Pinkerton could not cancel her contract without making some payment, she at last, hearing that Sir Pitt Crawley"s family was in want of a governess, actually recommended Miss Sharp for the post.Thus the world began for these two young ladies. Invited by the gentle, tender-hearted Amelia, the only person with whom she could have some kind of friendship, Rebecca was to stay with the Sedley"s for ten days before she took the new job.—From Vanity Fair by W. M. Thackery

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Translate the following into Chinese．A nobler want of man is served by nature, namely, the love of Beauty.The ancient Greeks called the world Koomos, beauty. Such is the constitution of all things, or such the plastic power of the human eye, that the primary forms, as the sky, the mountain, the tree, the animal, give us a delight in and for themselves: a pleasure arising from outline, color, motion, and grouping. This seems partly owing to the eye itself. The eye is the best of artists. By the mutual action of its structure and of the laws of light, perspective is produced, which integrates every mass of objects, of what character soever, into a well colored and shaded globe, so that where the particular objects are mean and unaffecting: the landscape which they compose is round and symmetrical. And as the eye is the best composer, so light is the first of painters. There is no object so foul that intense light will not make beautiful. And the stimulus it affords to the sense, and a sort of infinitude which it has, like space and time, make all matter gay. Even the corpse has its own beauty. But besides this general grace diffused over nature, almost all the individual forms are agreeable to the eye, as is proved by our endless imitations of some of them, as the acorn, the grape, the pine-cone, the wheat-ear, the egg, the wings and forms of most birds, the lion"s claw, the serpent, the butterfly, sea-shells, flames, clouds, buds, leaves, and the forms of many trees, as the palm.All men are in some degree impressed by the face of the world: some men even to delight. This love of beauty is Taste. Others have the same love in such excess, that, not content with admiring, they seek to embody it in new forms. The creation of beauty is Art.The production of a work of art throws a light upon the mystery of humanity. A work of art is an abstract or epitome of the world. It is the result or expression of nature, in miniature. For although the works of nature are innumerable and all different, the result or the expression of them all is similar and single. Nature is a sea of forms radically a-like and even unique. A leaf, a sunbeam, a landscape, the ocean, make an analogous impression on the mind. What is common to them all, that perfectness and harmony, is beauty. The standard of beauty is the entire circuit of nature forms , the totality of nature: which the Italians expressed by defining beauty "il piu nell"uno. " Nothing is quite beautiful alone: nothing but is beautiful in the whole. A single object is only so far beautiful as it suggests this universal grace. The poet, the painter, the sculptor, the musician, the architect, seek each to concentrate this radiance of the world on one point, and each in his several work to satisfy the love of beauty which stimulates him to produce. Thus is Art, a nature passed through the alembic of man. Thus in art, does Nature work through the will of a man filled with the beauty of her first works.The world thus exists to the soul to satisfy the desire of beauty. This element I call an ultimate end. No reason can be asked or given why the soul seeks beauty. Beauty, in its largest and profoundest sense, is one expression for the universe. God is the all-fair. Truth, and goodness, and beauty, are but different faces of the same All. But beauty in nature is not ultimate. It is the herald of inward and eternal beauty, and is not alone a solid and satisfactory good. It must stand as a part, and not as yet the last or highest expression of the final cause of Nature.From R. W. Emerson: Beauty

Who were the finest exponents of the English Renaissance

英译汉。(华东理工大学2006研，考试科目：翻译实践)I chanced to rise very early one particular morning this summer, and took a walk into the country to divert myself among the fields and meadows, while the green was new, and the flowers in their bloom. As at this season of the year every lane is a beautiful walk, and every hedge full of aromatic nosegays. I lost myself, with a great deal of pleasure, among several thickets and bushes that were filled with a great variety of birds, and an agreeable confusion of notes, which formed the pleasantest scene in the world to one who had passed a whole winter in noise and smoke. The freshness of the dews that lay upon everything about me, with the cool breath of the morning, which inspired the birds with so many delightful instincts, created in me the same kind of animal pleasure, and made my heart overflow with such secret emotions of joy and satisfaction as are not to be described or accounted for.I was very much pleased and astonished at the glorious show of these gay vegetables that arose in great profusion on all the banks about us. Sometimes I considered every leaf as an elaborate piece of tissue, in which the threads and fibers were woven together into different configurations, which gave a different colouring to the light as it glanced on the several parts of the surface. Sometimes I considered the whole bed of tulips, according to the notion of the greatest mathematician and philosopher that ever lived, as a multitude of optic instruments, designed for the separating light into all those various colours of which it is composed.For this reason I look upon the whole country in springtime as a spacious garden, and make as many visits to a pot of daisies or a bank of violets, as a florist does to his borders or parterres. There is not a bush in blossom within a mile of me, which I am not acquainted with, nor scarce a daffodil or tulip that withers away in my neighborhood without my missing it. I walked home in this temper of mind through several fields and meadows with an unspeakable pleasure, not without reflecting on the bounty of Providence which has made the most pleasing and most beautiful objects the most ordinary and most common.

In this part，you are asked to translate the following paragraph into Chinese．Write your answer on the ANSWER SHEET．(中国矿业大学2009研，考试科目：基础英语)The Appeal of Life Is Beautiful is perhaps not so puzzling after all. The archetypal story of a father"s sacrifice for his family has evidently proved irresistible to many spectators whose sensibilities have often been molded by such simple entertainment cliches and who seek, not the bitter historical truths of the Holocaust, but consoling evasions. Thus, the film encourages them to interpret death in the camps as a moving personal sacrifice and not as the brutal termination of a singular human being"s life. Survival is a victory. Dora comes through her ordeal with little more than a smudge on her face and a punk hairdo, and Giosue"s memories, become burnished with age. All these misguided, consoling thoughts are accepted with a sigh of relief because no one is obliged to think about how a survivor"s return to normalcy would be perpetually haunted by nightmares whose origins were all too real. Like Benigni, audiences are evidently only too willing to succumb to an unfortunate, if understandable, impulse which, in the words of the eminent critic of Holocaust literature, Lawrence Langer, desperately attempts " to redesign hope from the shards of despair. " If only life were so beautiful...