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Archive for January, 2010

If the little Scottish terrier whose monument still stands in Edinburgh is not the most selfless animal who ever lived, a dolphin named Pelorus Jack might well be. For many years, this dolphin guided ships through French Pass, a channel through the D’Urville Islands off New Zealand. This dangerous channel is so fill of rocks, and has such extremely strong currents, that it has been the site of literally hundreds of shipwrecks. But none occurred when Pelorus Jack was at work. There is no telling how many lives he saved.
He was first seen by human beings when he appeared in front of a schooner from Boston named “Brindle,” just as the ship was approaching French Pass. When the members of the crew saw the dolphin bobbing up and down in front of the ship, they wanted to kill him—but, fortunately, the captain’s wife was able to talk them out of it. To their amazement, the dolphin then proceeded to guide the ship through the narrow channel. And for years thereafter, he safely guided almost every ship that came by. So regular and reliable was the dolphin that when ships reached the entrance to French Pass they would look for him, and if he was not visible, they would wait for him to appear to guide them safely through the treacherous rocks and currents. On one sad occasion, a dmnken passenger aboard a ship named the “Penguin” took out a gun and shot at Pelorus Jack. The crew was furious, and when they saw Jack swim away with blood pouring from his body they came very close to lynching the passenger. The “Penguin” had to negotiate the channel without Pelorus Jack’s help, as did the other ships that came through in the next few weeks. But one day the dolphin reappeared, apparently recovered from his wound. He had evidently forgiven the human species, because he once again proceeded to guide ship after ship through the channel. When the “Penguin” showed up again, however, the dolphin immediately disappeared.
For a number of years thereafter, Pelorus Jack continued to escort ships through French Pass—but never the “Penguin,” and the crew of that ship never saw the dolphin again. Ironically, the “Penguin” was later wrecked, and a large number of passengers and crew were drowned, as it sailed—unguided—through French Pass.

You will not find very many monuments to dogs in this world. But in Edinburgh, Scotland, in a public area known as Greyfriar Square, there stands a statue, erected by the local citizens, in honor of a little terrier named Bobby.
Why did the townspeople erect this statue? Because this little dog taught them a lesson in the years he lived with them—a most important lesson. Bobby the Scottish terrier had no owner. And as often happens to smalltown dogs with no master, he was kicked around by just about everybody, and had to scrounge through garbage to get anything to eat. Not what you would call an ideal life, even for a dog.
But it happened that there was in the village a dying old man, named Jock. In his last days, the old man noticed the plight of the sorry little dog. There wasn’t much he could do, but he did buy the little fellow a meal one evening at the local restaurant. Nothing fancy, just some scraps. But it would be hard for anyone to over-estimate the extent of little Bobby’s gratitude.
Shortly thereafter, Jock died. When the mourners carried his body to the grave, the terrier followed them. The gravediggers ordered him away, and when he refused to leave they kicked him and threw rocks at him. But still the dog stood his ground, and would not leave no matter what they did. From then on, for no less than fourteen years, little Bobby honored the memory of the man who had been kind to him. Day and night, through harsh winter storms and hot summer days, he stood by the grave. The only time he ever left the gravesite was for a brief trip each afternoon back to the restaurant in which he had met Jock, in hopes of scavenging something to eat. Whatever he got he would solemnly carry back to the grave, and eat there. The first winter Bobby had almost no shelter, huddling underneath tombstones when the snow was deep. By the next winter, the townspeople were so touched by his brave and lonely vigil that they erected a small shelter for him. And fourteen years later, when little Bobby died, they buried him where he lay—alongside the man whose last gesture of kindness he had honored with such devotion.

Appropriately enough, the idea for the Web came from scientists—just as had the original idea for the Internet.
In 1989 Tim Bemers-Lee, a physicist at the European Particle Physics Laboratory (CERN), proposed the concept of the Web as a system for transferring ideas and research among scientists in the high- energy-physics community.
Berners-Lee’s original proposal defined a very simple implementation that used hypertext but did not include multimedia capabilities. Something very much like this was introduced on Steve Jobs’s NeXT computer system in 1990. The NeXT implementation allowed users to create, edit, view, and transmit hypertext documents over the Internet. The system was demonstrated for CERN committees and attendees at the Hypertext ‘91 conference.
In 1992 CERN began publicizing the World Wide Web (WWW) project and encouraging the development of Web servers at laboratories and academic institutions around the world. At the same time, CERN promoted the development of WWW clients (browsers) for a range of computer systems including X Windows (Unix), the Apple Macintosh, and PC/Windows. (Today, the two most popular and useful of these browsers are Netscape Communicate and Micorosfi Internet Explorer—both of which are available via free download on the Internet.)