欧亨利最后一片叶子Behrman英文评论论文thelastleaf[修改版]
最后一片叶子(中英对照)[修改版]
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第一篇：最后一片叶子(中英对照)最后一片叶子（欧亨利小说）编辑《最后一片叶子》，一译《最后的常春藤叶》，主人公是琼西、苏艾、贝尔曼。
文中作者着力挖掘和赞美小人物的伟大人格和高尚品德，展示他们向往人性世界的美好愿望。
最后一片叶子”的故事，着实让我们为琼西的命运紧张了一番，为苏艾的友谊感叹了一回，为贝尔曼的博爱震撼了一次。
作者通过对穷苦朋友间友谊的描写，刻画出一个舍己为人的以自己生命为代价创造真正杰作的画家形象，讴歌了以贝尔曼为代表的普通人的高尚。
书名最后一片叶子又名最后的常春藤叶作者欧·亨利原版名称The Last Leaf 装帧平装开本16目录1作者简介▪生平▪手法2作品内容3作品原文▪中文原文▪英文原文4作品赏析1作者简介编辑生平1862年9月11日，美国最著名的短篇小说家之——欧·亨利（O.Henry）出生于美国北卡罗来纳州有个名叫格林斯波罗的小镇。
曾被评论界誉为曼哈顿桂冠散文作家和美国现代短篇小说之父。
1862年他出身于美国北卡罗来纳州格林斯波罗镇一个医师家庭。
父亲是医生。
他原名威廉·西德尼·波特(William Sydney Porter)。
他所受教育不多，15岁便开始在药房当学徒，20岁时由于健康原因去德克萨斯州的一个牧场当了两年牧牛人，积累了对西部生活的亲身经验。
1884年以后做过会计员、土地局办事员、新闻记者。
此后，他在德克萨斯做过不同的工作，包括在奥斯汀银行当出纳员。
他还办过一份名为《滚石》的幽默周刊，并在休斯敦一家日报上发表幽默小说和趣闻逸事。
1887年，亨利结婚并生了一个女儿。
正当他的生活颇为安定之时，却发生了一件改变他命运的事情。
1896年，奥斯汀银行指控他在任职期间盗用资金。
他为了躲避受审，逃往洪都拉斯。
1897年，后因回家探视病危的妻子被捕入狱，判处5年徒刑。
在狱中曾担任药剂师，他创作第一部作品的起因是为了给女儿买圣诞礼物，但基于犯人的身份不敢使用真名，乃用一部法国药典的编者的名字作为笔名，在《麦克吕尔》杂志发表。
【英文原版小说】欧·亨利短篇小说-TheLastLeaf最后一片叶子
The Last Leaf最后一片叶子IIn a little district west of Washington Square the streets have run crazy and broken themselves into small strips called "places." These "places" make strange angles and curves. One Street crosses itself a time or two. An artist once discovered a valuable possibility in this street. Suppose a collector with a bill for paints, paper and canvas should, in traversing this route, suddenly meet himself coming back, without a cent having been paid on account!So, to quaint old Greenwich Village the art people soon came prowling, hunting for north windows and eighteenth-century gables and Dutch attics and low rents. Then they imported some pewter mugs and a chafing dish or two from Sixth Avenue, and became a "colony."At the top of a squatty, three-story brick Sue and Johnsy had their studio. "Johnsy" was familiar for Joanna. One was from Maine; the other from California. They had met at the table d'h?te of an Eighth Street "Delmonico's," and found their tastes in art, chicory salad and bishop sleeves so congenial that the joint studio resulted.That was in May. In November a cold, unseen stranger, whom the doctors called Pneumonia, stalked about the colony, touching one here and there with his icy fingers.Over on the east side this ravager strode boldly, smiting his victims by scores, but his feet trod slowly through the maze of the narrow and moss-grown "places."Mr. Pneumonia was not what you would call a chivalric old gentleman. A mite of a little woman with blood thinned by California zephyrs was hardly fair game for the red-fisted, short-breathed old duffer. But Johnsy he smote; and she lay, scarcely moving, on her painted iron bedstead, looking through the small Dutch window-panes at the blank side of the next brick house.One morning the busy doctor invited Sue into the hallway with a shaggy, grey eyebrow."She has one chance in - let us say, ten," he said, as he shook down the mercury in his clinical thermometer. " And that chance is for her to want to live. This way people have of lining-u on the side of the undertaker makes the entire pharmacopoeia look silly. Your little lady has made up her mind that she's not going to get well.Has she anything on her mind?""She - she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples some day." said Sue."Paint? - bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking twice - a man for instance?""A man?" said Sue, with a jew's-harp twang in her voice. "Is a man worth - but, no, doctor; there is nothing of the kind.""Well, it is the weakness, then," said the doctor. "I will do all that science, so far as it may filter through my efforts, can accomplish. But whenever my patient begins to count the carriages in her funeral procession I subtract 50 per cent from the curative power of medicines. If you will get her to ask one question about the new winter styles in cloak sleeves I will promise you a one-in-five chance for her, instead of one in ten."After the doctor had gone Sue went into the workroom and cried a Japanese napkin to a pulp. Then she swaggered into Johnsy's room with her drawing board, whistling ragtime.Johnsy lay, scarcely making a ripple under the bedclothes, with her face toward the window. Sue stopped whistling, thinking she was asleep.She arranged her board and began a pen-and-ink drawing to illustrate a magazine story. Young artists must pave their way to Art by drawing pictures for magazine stories that young authors write to pave their way to Literature.As Sue was sketching a pair of elegant horseshow riding trousers and a monocle of the figure of the hero, an Idaho cowboy, she heard a low sound, several times repeated. She went quickly to the bedside.Johnsy's eyes were open wide. She was looking out the window and counting - counting backward."Twelve," she said, and little later "eleven"; and then "ten," and "nine"; and then "eight" and "seven", almost together.Sue look solicitously out of the window. What was there to count? There was only a bare, dreary yard to be seen, and the blank side of the brick house twenty feet away.An old, old ivy vine, gnarled and decayed at the roots, climbed half way up the brick wall. The cold breath of autumn had stricken its leaves from the vine until its skeleton branches clung, almost bare, to the crumbling bricks."What is it, dear?" asked Sue."Six," said Johnsy, in almost a whisper. "They're falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It made my head ache to count them. But now it's easy.There goes another one. There are only five left now.""Five what, dear? Tell your Sudie.""Leaves. On the ivy vine. When the last one falls I must go, too. I've known that for three days. Didn't the doctor tell you?""Oh, I never heard of such nonsense," complained Sue, with magnificent scorn. "What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well? And you used to love that vine so, you naughty girl. Don't be a goosey. Why, the doctor told me this morning that your chances for getting well real soon were - let's see exactly what he said - he said the chances were ten to one! Why, that's almost as good a chance as we have in New York when we ride on the street cars or walk past a new building. Try to take some broth now, and let Sudie go back to her drawing, so she can sell the editor man with it, and buy port wine for her sick child, and pork chops for her greedy self." "You needn't get any more wine," said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out the window. "There goes another. No, I don't want any broth. That leaves just four. I want to see the last one fall before it gets dark. Then I'll go, too.""Johnsy, dear," said Sue, bending over her, "will you promise me to keep your eyes closed, and not look out the window until I am done working? I must hand those drawings in by to-morrow. I need the light, or I would draw the shade down.""Couldn't you draw in the other room?" asked Johnsy, coldly."I'd rather be here by you," said Sue. "Beside, I don't want you to keep looking at those silly ivy leaves.""Tell me as soon as you have finished," said Johnsy, closing her eyes, and lying white and still as fallen statue, "because I want to see the last one fall. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of thinking. I want to turn loose my hold on everything, and go sailing down, down, just like one of those poor, tired leaves.""Try to sleep," said Sue. "I must call Behrman up to be my model for the old hermit miner. I'll not be gone a minute. Don't try to move 'til I come back."Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor beneath them. He was past sixty and had a Michael Angelo's Moses beard curling down from the head of a satyr along with the body of an imp. Behrman was a failure in art. Forty years he had wielded the brush without getting near enough to touch the hem of his Mistress's robe.He had been always about to paint a masterpiece, but had never yet begun it. For several years he had painted nothing except now and then a daub in the line of commerce or advertising. He earned a little by serving as a model to those young artists in the colony who could not pay the price of a professional. He drank gin to excess, and still talked of his coming masterpiece. For the rest he was a fierce little old man, who scoffed terribly at softness in any one, and who regarded himself as especial mastiff-in-waiting to protect the two young artists in the studio above.Sue found Behrman smelling strongly of juniper berries in his dimly lighted den below. In one corner was a blank canvas on an easel that had been waiting there for twenty-five years to receive the first line of the masterpiece. She told him of Johnsy's fancy, and how she feared she would, indeed, light and fragile as a leaf herself, float away, when her slight hold upon the world grew weaker.Old Behrman, with his red eyes plainly streaming, shouted his contempt and derision for such idiotic imaginings."Vass!" he cried. "Is dere people in de world mit der foolishness to die because leafs dey drop off from a confounded vine? I haf not heard of such a thing. No, I will not bose as a model for your fool hermit-dunderhead. Vy do you allow dot silly pusiness to come in der brain of her? Ach, dot poor leetle Miss Yohnsy.""She is very ill and weak," said Sue, "and the fever has left her mind morbid and full of strange fancies. Very well, Mr. Behrman, if you do not care to pose for me, you needn't. But I think you are a horrid old - old flibbertigibbet.""You are just like a woman!" yelled Behrman. "Who said I will not bose? Go on. I come mit you. For half an hour I haf peen trying to say dot I am ready to bose. Gott! dis is not any blace in which one so goot as Miss Yohnsy shall lie sick. Some day I vill baint a masterpiece, and ve shall all go away. Gott! yes."Johnsy was sleeping when they went upstairs. Sue pulled the shade down to the window-sill, and motioned Behrman into the other room. In there they peered out the window fearfully at the ivy vine. Then they looked at each other for a moment without speaking. A persistent, cold rain was falling, mingled with snow. Behrman, in his old blue shirt, took his seat as the hermit miner on an upturned kettle for a rock.When Sue awoke from an hour's sleep the next morning she found Johnsy with dull, wide-open eyes staring at the drawn green shade."Pull it up; I want to see," she ordered, in a whisper.Wearily Sue obeyed.But, lo! after the beating rain and fierce gusts of wind that had endured through the livelong night, there yet stood out against the brick wall one ivy leaf. It was the last one on the vine. Still dark green near its stem, with its serrated edges tinted with the yellow of dissolution and decay, it hung bravely from the branch some twenty feet above the ground."It is the last one," said Johnsy. "I thought it would surely fall during the night. I heard the wind. It will fall to-day, and I shall die at the same time.""Dear, dear!" said Sue, leaning her worn face down to the pillow, "think of me, if you won't think of yourself. What would I do?"But Johnsy did not answer. The lonesomest thing in all the world is a soul when it is making ready to go on its mysterious, far journey. The fancy seemed to possess her more strongly as one by one the ties that bound her to friendship and to earth were loosed.The day wore away, and even through the twilight they could see the lone ivy leaf clinging to itsstem against the wall. And then, with the coming of the night the north wind was again loosed, while the rain still beat against the windows and pattered down from the low Dutch eaves. When it was light enough Johnsy, the merciless, commanded that the shade be raised.The ivy leaf was still there.Johnsy lay for a long time looking at it. And then she called to Sue, who was stirring her chicken broth over the gas stove."I've been a bad girl, Sudie," said Johnsy. "Something has made that last leaf stay there to show me how wicked I was. It is a sin to want to die. You may bring a me a little broth now, and some milk with a little port in it, and - no; bring me a hand-mirror first, and then pack some pillows about me, and I will sit up and watch you cook."And hour later she said:"Sudie, some day I hope to paint the Bay of Naples."The doctor came in the afternoon, and Sue had an excuse to go into the hallway as he left. "Even chances," said the doctor, taking Sue's thin, shaking hand in his. "With good nursing you'll win." And now I must see another case I have downstairs. Behrman, his name is - some kind of an artist, I believe. Pneumonia, too. He is an old, weak man, and the attack is acute. There is no hope for him; but he goes to the hospital to-day to be made more comfortable."The next day the doctor said to Sue: "She's out of danger. You won. Nutrition and care now - that's all."And that afternoon Sue came to the bed where Johnsy lay, contentedly knitting a very blue and very useless woollen shoulder scarf, and put one arm around her, pillows and all."I have something to tell you, white mouse," she said. "Mr. Behrman died of pneumonia to-day in the hospital. He was ill only two days. The janitor found him the morning of the first day in his room downstairs helpless with pain. His shoes and clothing were wet through and icy cold. They couldn't imagine where he had been on such a dreadful night. And then they found a lantern, still lighted, and a ladder that had been dragged from its place, and some scattered brushes, and a palette with green and yellow colours mixed on it, and - look out the window, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wall. Didn't you wonder why it never fluttered or moved when the wind blew? Ah, darling, it's Behrman's masterpiece - he painted it there the night that the last leaf fell."在华盛顿广场西边的一个小区里，街道都横七竖八地伸展开去，又分裂成一小条一小条的“胡同”。
最后一片叶子The-Last-Leaf-赏析
最后一片叶子The-Last-Leaf-赏析
《The Last Leaf》是美国著名作家奥恩斯坦伯格创作的美丽感人的短篇小说。
乔瓦
尼（Johnsy）是一位很有天赋的艺术家，但是在秋日中患上恶劣的肺病，体重急剧减轻，
急需抢救。
不久，她的生命垂危，她定义了一个游戏，他说第一片枯黄的叶子从枝头掉下
来她就会离开人世。
格伦（Behme）是一个年遽长老，他对乔瓦尼极为关心。
当他看到乔瓦尼这样迟期把
临终之交，心里孤寂而震动。
夜里，他独自去散步，就像在接受抗争的考验。
夜晚，他偷
偷爬到楼上，用他的老手拼拼凑凑描绘出一片绿叶，藏在乔瓦尼的窗外，并献给她。
当乔瓦尼从绝病中苏醒，她惊叹窗外一片翠绿叶子，而这片绿叶不仅意味着她的生命
即将延续，更代表了格伦对他的无私付出。
从《The Last Leaf》我们可以感受到作者给我们传达出来的含义：勇敢地面对挫折，勇往直前，克服困境，积极面对生活，不断努力，永不放弃，不要轻言放弃。
最后，《The Last Leaf》向我们展示了无私的爱，让我们见证了爱的奇妙与力量。
无论一个人处于怎样的境况，都可以带来爱的温暖和模范的精神。
最后一片叶子的英语论文
Analysis of O. Henr y’s The Last LeafAbstract:O. Henry was the pen name of American writer William Sydney Porter (September 11, 1862–June 5, 1910), whose clever use of twist endings in his stories popularized the term "O. Henry Ending". His middle name at birth was Sidney, not Sydney; he later changed the spelling of his middle name when he first began writing as a journalist in the 1880s.O. Henry’s stories are mainly about the insignificant persons from the bottom of the society. His works are written in vivid and lively language. He was good at creating humorous plots by the use of puns, homonyms, quotations etc.The Last Leaf is one of O. Henry’s representative works, a classic of short stories. It has been very popular since published. At the end of this story, he brings to light the theme of the story and infuses a great power into the readers’ hearts. The theme of this story is definitely self-sacrifice. Mr. Behrman sacrificed his own health for johnsy. Sometimes you should never judge someone by what they appear to be, but by their actions. Behrman acts fierce and aggressive, but his actions show how much he cares about Johnsy.Body:1.IntroductionThe Last Leaf is one of O. Henry’s representative works. It tells the story happened among the young girls Johnsy, Sue and the old painter Behrman. Johnsy is afflicted with pneumonia. Her only hope for living is on the ivy leaves on the brick wall of the opposite house. The leaves are fighting against the strong wind and the heavy rain, just like sick Johnsy. To save Johnsy from the horrible illness, Sue tries hard to take care of her and encourages her. However, with more leaves falling down, Johnsy was getting worse. Death will definitely ruin her when the last leaf falls off the ivy vine. In order to help Johnsy survive, the old painter Behrman who lives downstairs paints a leaf on the wall, and finally it becomes the last leaf. Thanks to that leaf, Johnsy defeats the illness and soon recovers. Nevertheless, old Behrman got pneumonia from a cold when he was painting the leaf. In the story The Last Leaf, O. Henry fully shows his intelligence and talent. He creates very vivid characters in his own way of writing. With his description, the scenes in the story seem to play in front ofthe readers’ eyes. Using contradictions, he arouses the reader’s interests and curiosity with very attractive plots. The unexpected ending leads the readers to suddenly realize the profound significance of this work.2. Literature reviewO. Henry was an ordinary person from an ordinary American family. What make him so unique are his life experiences. The relationship between O. Henry’s life experiences and his writing style has attracted a lot of people to explore. With their persistent efforts, O. Henry’s li fe experiences are not mysteries anymore. His life was full of unpleasant things, whereas due to which he achieved outstanding intelligence and talents. His experience was the foundation of his future development in writing, and also the source of his crea tion. O. Henry’s works are usually fresh and unique. To write such successful works, he had his own way. Contrast is one of his weapons to create vivid characters; another weapon to express the feelings is his brief and clear wording.The Last Leaf, a representative work of the famous short-story writer O. Henry, has been studied from different aspects. It tells the story among two young girls Johnsy, Sue and an old painter Behrman. It glorifies true love in the world by the narration of old Behrman’s and Sue’s love, care and help for Johnsy. By the portrayal of the living environment and living status of the three main characters, it reveals that American people were in ―The Gilded Age‖. And by contrast it shows the love and care between the poor. The ending of this work is unexpected but reasonable. It guides the readers to suddenly realize what happen and then get the theme of the story. The ―O. Henry ending‖ makes the substance of the work even more significant, it leaves a pleasant aftertaste for readers. ―The famous American short-story writer O. Henry creates an illustrious image of a poor and old painter who sacrifices himself to save a young girl’s life in The Last Leaf. The love and the humanity he praises is similar to the core of Confucianism —Ben evolence.‖ (Li, 2009: 67). Confucianism thinks that a person with lofty ideals has no fear of death. On the contrary, he has the courage to sacrifice for benevolence. What we can see from old Behrman is the essence of Confucianism, ―benevolence‖ and ―loving people‖. The Last Leaf of O. Henry lights up the hope of the confused modern people. It reminds us of love and harmony which are the foundations of a society.3. O. Henry’s writing features1)O. Henry’s works usually tell the story of insignificant people, while showing great humanitarianism. Over a long period of time, O. Henry lived in the bottom of society, he knew how tough life could be for people from underclass, and he knew how cruel the law could be to poor people. Therefore, he showed great sympathy for the poor. In his work, the poor are usually of good qualities. They have pure and kind hearts, they can get true and deep love, but they are weak and small, helpless, starving, homeless, always frustrated by fate and tortured by society. This kind of unfairness is a strong contrast to the prosperous upper class. It reflects the writer’s indignation because of the injustice.2) Metaphor is an outstanding feature of O. Henry’s writing in this work. The last leaf is the main thread which goes through the whole story, and also the key to revealing the theme of it.First, it means the greatest achievement for the old painter Behrman. Before painting this leaf, Behrman never paints any satisfactory work. From painting, he dose not even make enough money for life. Although this painting is just a leaf, it saves a young girl’s life from the hand of illness. It is the most successful painting and the greatest accomplishment of art in his life.It is the sign of life. The ivy leaves on the brick wall are being devastated by the aggressive wind and rain, just like Johnsy is suffering from fearful illness. That is why Johnsy places her hope all on those leaves. The last leaf is not a real one, but for Johnsy it is so powerful. It survives the wind and rain, staying on the wall with passion for life. It supports Johnsy’s faith and helps her defeats the illness.It is a symbol of love and care. It is just a painting, but it costs Behrman’s life. With his own life, he tries to wake up Johnsy’s fai th and strength. The last leaf carries Behrman’s unselfish love and care for Johnsy.3) The ―O. Henry ending‖ is the most famous and typical writing feature of O. Henry. In his works, everything goes on very normally until the coming of the ending. Readers are unconsciously led to the maze he designs. And then, suddenly, the ending comes. Like the lightning, it lights up everything which is hidden before. Usually, the surprising ending is comforting. Even if it is a sad ending, it has the bright side. Before O. Henry, some other short-story writers also tried the unexpected ending, but O. Henry is the one who made it natural and ingenious.When we are about to finish reading the story, we may still think that it has a happy ending. We may feel happy for Johnsy. However, right when we think that it ends upperfectly, the real ending comes. That is, Behrman dies. Meanwhile, we realize that the last leaf is not a real one; it is painted by old Behrman who sacrifices his life for it. The happy ending we expect could only be our expectation. With everything coming to light, our expectation is broken, and our feelings burst out. Readers’ feelings are all led by O. Henry. They feel sorry for Behrman and feel touched by him. Further, they can better understand the characters and the great significance of the theme.。
英语专业毕业论文--以《最后一片叶子》为例论欧·亨利的创作风格
On O’Henry’s Writing Style Exemplified byThe Last LeafByXin KesiSupervisor: Lecturer Wang HaoA Thesis Submitted to School of Foreign LanguagesOf Handan College in Partial FulfillmentOf the Requirement for the DegreeOf Bachelor of ArtsHandan, ChinaMay, 2010郑重声明本人的毕业论文是在指导教师王颢的指导下独立撰写完成的。
如有剽窃、抄袭、造假等违反学术道德、学术规范和侵权的行为，本人愿意承担由此产生的各种后果，直至法律责任，并愿意通过网络接受公众的监督。
特此郑重声明。
毕业论文作者：年月日AcknowledgementsI would like to avail myself of this opportunity to express my sincere thanks to all those who have offered me help in my thesis writing. First of all, my thanks are particularly extended to my supervisor, Lecturer, Wang Hao, whose inspiring insights, generous encouragements, and enthusiastic instructions have facilitated me much throughout my thesis writing. Her penetrating and insightful comments afford me with inspiring source. She has been in constant concern about my paper, spared no pains to entertain my thesis draft. She also teaches me the format of the thesis. She has walked me through all the stages of the writing of this thesis. Without her consistent and illuminating instruction, this thesis could not have reached its present form. I would also like to extend my sincere thanks to the Foreign Language Department of Handan College as well as all my teachers. Thanks to their instructive guidance and comprehensive education during the four years‟ schooling, I can acquire the opportunity to further study English. And I want to thank my parents. It is them who brought me up and give me financial support through my college life. Finally, my great gratitude also goes to all my friends, especially my roommates who gave me their help and time in listening to me and helping me work out my problems during the difficult course of the thesis.AbstractO‟Henry is one of the most famous American short story writers in the early 20th century. In his legendary life, he offers the innumerable artistic stories for the readers by his uniquely “O‟Henry technique”. “O‟Henry technique” is a big magic weapon by which this artistic master makes his great success, also leaves the readers a huge wealth. The Last Leaf is one of the masterpieces of O‟Henry. This short story tells a story about three poor artists. The bittersweet story involves Johnsy, a young artist who is suffering from a severe case of pneumonia and has lost her will to live, though Sue gives her close care. However, Behrman provides the ultimate gift to Johnsy, and in doing so, saves her life, but loses his own life.This thesis analyzes the writing styles of this short story through three levels: language, structure and characterization. Chapter One studies the language features, showing O‟Hen ry is a master of language. Chapter Two analyzes the structure features from two parts: the unexpected ending and “plot blank”. Chapter Three discusses the characterization features from the psychological portrayal, behavior portrayal, language portrayal and appearance portrayal. By doing this, this thesis shows O‟Henry‟s unique role in the literary world.Key Words: style language structure characterization摘要欧·亨利是20世纪初美国最著名的短篇小说家之一。
最后一片叶子英文原文
最后一片叶子英文原文In a little district west of Washington Square the streets have run crazy and broken themselves into small strips called "places." These "places" make strange angles and curves. One Street crosses itself a time or two. An artist once discovered a valuable possibility in this street. Suppose a collector with a bill for paints, paper and canvas should, in traversing this route, suddenly meet himself coming back, without a cent having been paid on account!So, to quaint old Greenwich Village the art people soon came prowling, hunting for north windows and eighteenth-century gables and Dutch attics and low rents. Then they imported some pewter mugs and a chafing dish or two from Sixth Avenue, and became a "colony."At the top of a squatty, three-story brick Sue and Johnsy had their studio. "Johnsy" was familiar for Joanna. One was from Maine; the other from California. They had met at the table d'hôte of an Eighth Street "Delmonico's," and found their tastes in art, chicory salad and bishop sleeves so congenial that the joint studio resulted.That was in May. In November a cold, unseen stranger, whom the doctors called Pneumonia, stalked about the colony, touching one here and there with his icy fingers. Over on the east side this ravager strode boldly, smiting his victims by scores, but his feet trod slowly through the maze of the narrow and moss-grown "places."Mr. Pneumonia was not what you would call a chivalric old gentleman. A mite of a little woman with blood thinned by California zephyrs was hardly fair game for the red-fisted, short-breathed old duffer. But Johnsy he smote; and she lay, scarcely moving, on her painted iron bedstead, looking through the small Dutch window-panes at the blank side of the next brick house.One morning the busy doctor invited Sue into the hallway with a shaggy, grey eyebrow."She has one chance in - let us say, ten," he said, as he shook down the mercury in his clinical thermometer. " And that chance is for her to want to live. This way people have of lining-u on the side of the undertaker makes the entire pharmacopoeia look silly. Your little lady has made up her mind that she's not going to get well. Has she anything on her mind?""She - she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples some day." said Sue."Paint? - bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking twice - a man for instance?""A man?" said Sue, with a jew's-harp twang in her voice. "Is a man worth - but, no, doctor; there is nothing of the kind.""Well, it is the weakness, then," said the doctor. "I will do all that science, so far as it may filter through my efforts, can accomplish. But whenever my patient begins to count the carriages in her funeral procession I subtract 50 per cent from the curative power of medicines. If you will get her to ask one question about the new winter styles in cloak sleeves I will promise you a one-in-five chance for her, instead of one in ten."After the doctor had gone Sue went into the workroom and cried a Japanese napkin to a pulp. Then she swaggered into Johnsy's room with her drawing board, whistling ragtime.Johnsy lay, scarcely making a ripple under the bedclothes, with her face toward the window. Sue stopped whistling, thinking she was asleep.She arranged her board and began a pen-and-ink drawing to illustrate a magazine story. Young artists must pave their way to Art by drawing pictures for magazine stories that young authors write to pave their way to Literature.As Sue was sketching a pair of elegant horseshow riding trousers and a monocle of the figure of the hero, an Idaho cowboy, she heard a low sound, several times repeated. She went quickly to the bedside.Johnsy's eyes were open wide. She was looking out the window and counting - counting backward."Twelve," she said, and little later "eleven"; and then "ten," and "nine"; and then "eight" and "seven", almost together.Sue look solicitously out of the window. What was there to count? There was only a bare, dreary yard to be seen, and the blank side of the brick house twenty feet away. An old, old ivy vine, gnarled and decayed at the roots, climbed half way up the brick wall. The cold breath of autumn had stricken its leaves from the vine until its skeleton branches clung, almost bare, to the crumbling bricks."What is it, dear?" asked Sue."Six," said Johnsy, in almost a whisper. "They're falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It made my head ache to count them. But now it's easy. There goes another one. There are only five left now.""Five what, dear? Tell your Sudie.""Leaves. On the ivy vine. When the last one falls I must go, too. I've known that for three days. Didn't the doctor tell you?""Oh, I never heard of such nonsense," complained Sue, with magnificent scorn. "What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well? And you used to love that vine so, you naughty girl. Don't be a goosey. Why, the doctor told me this morning that your chances for getting well real soon were - let's see exactly what he said - he said the chances were ten to one! Why, that's almost as good a chance as we have in New York when we ride on the street cars or walk pasta new building. Try to take some broth now, and let Sudie go back to her drawing, so she can sell the editor man with it, and buy port wine for her sick child, and pork chops for her greedy self.""You needn't get any more wine," said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out the window. "There goes another. No, I don't want any broth. That leaves just four. I want to see the last one fall before it gets dark. Then I'll go, too.""Johnsy, dear," said Sue, bending over her, "will you promise me to keep your eyes closed, and not look out the window until I am done working? I must hand those drawings in by to-morrow. I need the light, or I would draw the shade down.""Couldn't you draw in the other room?" asked Johnsy, coldly."I'd rather be here by you," said Sue. "Beside, I don't want you to keep looking at those silly ivy leaves.""Tell me as soon as you have finished," said Johnsy, closing her eyes, and lying white and still as fallen statue, "because I want to see the last one fall. I'm tired of waiting. I'm tired of thinking. I want to turn loose my hold on everything, and go sailing down, down, just like one of those poor, tired leaves.""Try to sleep," said Sue. "I must call Behrman up to be my model for the old hermit miner. I'll not be gone a minute. Don't try to move 'til I come back."Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor beneath them. He was past sixty and had a Michael Angelo's Moses beard curling down from the head of a satyr along with the body of an imp. Behrman was a failure in art. Forty years he had wielded the brush without getting near enough to touch the hem of his Mistress's robe. He had been always about to paint a masterpiece, but had never yet begun it. For several years he had painted nothing except now and then a daub in the line of commerce or advertising. He earned a little by serving as a model to those young artists in the colony who could not pay the price of a professional. He drank gin to excess, and still talked of his coming masterpiece. For the rest he was a fierce little old man, who scoffed terribly at softness in any one, and who regarded himself as especialmastiff-in-waiting to protect the two young artists in the studio above.Sue found Behrman smelling strongly of juniper berries in his dimly lighted den below. In one corner was a blank canvas on an easel that had been waiting there for twenty-five years to receive the first line of the masterpiece. She told him of Johnsy's fancy, and how she feared she would, indeed, light and fragile as a leaf herself, float away, when her slight hold upon the world grew weaker.Old Behrman, with his red eyes plainly streaming, shouted his contempt and derision for such idiotic imaginings."Vass!" he cried. "Is dere people in de world mit der foolishness to die because leafs dey drop off from a confounded vine? I haf not heard of such a thing. No, I will not bose as a model for your fool hermit-dunderhead. Vy do you allow dot silly pusiness to come in der brain of her? Ach, dot poor leetle Miss Yohnsy.""She is very ill and weak," said Sue, "and the fever has left her mind morbid and full of strange fancies. Very well, Mr. Behrman, if you do not care to pose for me, you needn't. But I think you are a horrid old - old flibbertigibbet.""You are just like a woman!" yelled Behrman. "Who said I will not bose? Go on. I come mit you. For half an hour I haf peen trying to say dot I am ready to bose. Gott! dis is not any blace in which one so goot as Miss Yohnsy shall lie sick. Some day I vill baint a masterpiece, and ve shall all go away. Gott! yes."Johnsy was sleeping when they went upstairs. Sue pulled the shade down to the window-sill, and motioned Behrman into the other room. In there they peered out the window fearfully at the ivy vine. Then they looked at each other for a moment without speaking. A persistent, cold rain was falling, mingled with snow. Behrman, in his old blue shirt, took his seat as the hermit miner on an upturned kettle for a rock.When Sue awoke from an hour's sleep the next morning she found Johnsy with dull, wide-open eyes staring at the drawn green shade."Pull it up; I want to see," she ordered, in a whisper.Wearily Sue obeyed.But, lo! after the beating rain and fierce gusts of wind that had endured through the livelong night, there yet stood out against the brick wall one ivy leaf. It was the last one on the vine. Still dark green near its stem, with its serrated edges tinted with the yellow of dissolution and decay, it hung bravely from the branch some twenty feet above the ground."It is the last one," said Johnsy. "I thought it would surely fall during the night. I heard the wind. It will fall to-day, and I shall die at the same time.""Dear, dear!" said Sue, leaning her worn face down to the pillow, "think of me, if you won't think of yourself. What would I do?"But Johnsy did not answer. The lonesomest thing in all the world is a soul when it is making ready to go on its mysterious, far journey. The fancy seemed to possess her more strongly as one by one the ties that bound her to friendship and to earth were loosed.The day wore away, and even through the twilight they could see the lone ivy leaf clinging to its stem against the wall. And then, with the coming ofthe night the north wind was again loosed, while the rain still beat against the windows and pattered down from the low Dutch eaves.When it was light enough Johnsy, the merciless, commanded that the shade be raised.The ivy leaf was still there.Johnsy lay for a long time looking at it. And then she called to Sue, who was stirring her chicken broth over the gas stove."I've been a bad girl, Sudie," said Johnsy. "Something has made that last leaf stay there to show me how wicked I was. It is a sin to want to die. You may bring a me a little broth now, and some milk with a little port in it, and - no; bring me a hand-mirror first, and then pack some pillows about me, and I will sit up and watch you cook."And hour later she said:"Sudie, some day I hope to paint the Bay of Naples."The doctor came in the afternoon, and Sue had an excuse to go into the hallway as he left."Even chances," said the doctor, taking Sue's thin, shaking hand in his. "With good nursing you'll win." And now I must see another case I have downstairs. Behrman, his name is - some kind of an artist, I believe. Pneumonia, too. He is an old, weak man, and the attack is acute. There is no hope for him; but he goes to the hospital to-day to be made more comfortable."The next day the doctor said to Sue: "She's out of danger. You won. Nutrition and care now - that's all."And that afternoon Sue came to the bed where Johnsy lay, contentedly knitting a very blue and very useless woollen shoulder scarf, and put one arm around her, pillows and all."I have something to tell you, white mouse," she said. "Mr. Behrman died of pneumonia to-day in the hospital. He was ill only two days. The janitor found him the morning of the first day in his room downstairs helpless with pain. His shoes and clothing were wet through and icy cold. They couldn't imagine where he had been on such a dreadful night. And then they found a lantern, still lighted, and a ladder that had been dragged from its place, and some scattered brushes, and a palette with green and yellow colours mixed on it, and - look out the window, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wall. Didn't you wonder why it never fluttered or moved when the wind blew? Ah, darling, it's Behrman's masterpiece - he painted it there the night that the last leaf fell."基本简介：真实姓名：威廉·西德尼·波特(William Sydney Porter)笔名：欧·亨利(O.Henry)生卒年代：1862.9.11-1910.6.5美国著名批判现实主义作家，世界三大短篇小说大师之一。
最后一片树叶欧亨利英语作文
The Last Leaf and the Power of HopeIn the heart of a bustling city, amidst the cold grip of winter, lay a lonely street known for its bleak, bare trees. One particular apartment building on this street housed a group of artists, each fighting their own battles with life. Among them was a young woman named Sue, an aspiring painter whose world was slowly fading away due to an undiagnosed illness. Her world had become a canvas of grays and whites, with no color to brighten her days.As the days grew shorter and the weather colder, the trees outside Sue's window lost their leaves, leaving only barren branches against the bleak winter sky. To Sue, these trees mirrored her own life, stripped of all hope and vitality. Each falling leaf seemed to represent a piece of her life slipping away.One day, while looking out of her window, Sue noticed an old man painting a vibrant mural on the side of the building opposite her. His paintings were full of life and color, a stark contrast to the gray world outside. As days passed, the mural transformed into a vibrant forest, with trees full of green leaves and birds singing among them.Sue's heart warmed as she looked at the mural, and slowly, her world began to change. The color and life in the mural brought a spark of hope back into her eyes. She started painting again, using the mural as inspiration, and soon her own paintings were full of the same vitality and color.Little did Sue know that the old man painting the mural was actually her neighbor, an elderly artist named John. John had noticed Sue's declining spirits and decided to take action. He knew that hope was the only thing that could save her, and he hoped that his mural would be the spark that lit the fire of life within her again.As the weeks progressed, Sue's health began to improve, and she even managed to complete a painting of her own version of the forest mural. Her doctors were amazed at her recovery and attributed it to the power of her newfound hope and positivity.One fateful day, a severe storm hit the city, and strong winds tore through the apartment building, ripping off most of the mural. Sue, devastated, felt as if all her hope had been lost once again.However, when she looked closely, she saw that one leaf, the last leaf on the tallest tree in the mural, had miraculously survived the storm. That one leaf, in themidst of the chaos and destruction, represented the indomitable spirit of hope within Sue. She realized that hope was not something that could be destroyed easily, and that even in the face of adversity, there was always a reason to fight.With renewed strength and determination, Sue began to paint again, using the last leaf as a symbol of her own resilience and hope. Her paintings were now filled with a deeper meaning, a testament to the power of hope in theface of adversity.And so, in the heart of that cold city, a young woman found the strength to fight her illness and the courage to believe in herself again. All because of one simple leaf, a symbol of hope that refused to die, even in the face of the harshest winter storms.**希望的力量与最后一片树叶**在繁忙的城市中心，冬季的寒冷笼罩下，有一条以光秃秃的树木而闻名的荒凉街道。
最后一片树叶欧亨利英语作文
The Last Leaf and the Power of HopeIn the cold and unforgiving winter of New York City, a tale of hope and resilience unfolded in the heart of Washington Square. It was a story that captured the essence of human spirit and the remarkable power of a single leaf. One fateful November day, a young artist named Sue suffered from a severe case of pneumonia, leaving her weak and vulnerable. Her roommate, Johanna, did her best to nurse her back to health, but the prognosis was grim. The doctors had given Sue little chance of survival, and the cold winter winds seemed to confirm their verdict. As the days wore on, Sue's condition worsened, and she lost all hope.In a moment of despair, Sue fixated on a vine outside her window, its leaves a symbol of life and hope. As the winter progressed, the leaves slowly fell, one by one,until only one remained. To Sue, that last leaf was a beacon of hope, a promise that life would persist. She clung to the idea that as long as the leaf held on, she too would find the strength to fight.But as the days grew shorter and colder, the leaf seemed to be hanging by a thread. Sue's hope dimmed, and her grip on life loosened. It was then that a mysterious man, known only as "the painter," stepped into the scene. He saw Sue's desperation and decided to take action. In the dead of night, he scaled the wall outside her window and painstakingly painted a perfect leaf on the vine, giving Sue a reason to believe that life would go on.As days passed, the painted leaf held fast, and Sue's hope was renewed. She found the strength to fight her illness, and gradually, her condition improved. The doctors were amazed at her recovery, attributing it to the奇迹般的power of her will.Johanna, meanwhile, discovered the truth behind the miracle leaf. She realized that it was not a real leaf, but a masterpiece of art, painted with love and compassion. She was overwhelmed with gratitude towards the painter, who had anonymously saved Sue's life.In the end, the painter's identity remained a mystery, but his kindness and compassion left an indelible mark on the lives of Sue and Johanna. They learned that hope isoften a fragile thing, but it is also the most powerful force in the world. It can sustain us in the darkest hours and give us the strength to overcome even the most insurmountable obstacles.The last leaf, a symbol of hope and resilience, taught them that life is worth fighting for, even when it seems impossible to hold on. And so, as the winter drew to a close, and spring began to bloom, Sue and Johanna looked out their window at the vine, and saw not just a leaf, but a promise of a new beginning, a fresh start, and a future filled with hope and possibility.**最后一片树叶与希望的力量**在纽约市寒冷而不容情的冬天里，华盛顿广场中心上演了一个关于希望与坚韧的故事。
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第一篇：欧亨利最后一片叶子Behrman英文评论论文the last leafBehrman in The Last Leaf-----from O.Henry洪剑201001401103 旅游管理040When a dying lady was looking out the ivy vine1 through the window, whose leaves were falling , she desperately thought “if the last falls, I must go”2. The old painter sacrificed his life to paint a green ivy leaf onto the brick wall ,when the real last fell .One died and one lived. No one could deny that piece of ivy leaf saved everything about love，nobility and greatness. The old man was just Behrman in O.Henry’s novel The Last Leaf.In O.Henry’s eyes, Behrman was a failure in art3but we might say he was a success in humanity. Actually he ever set his mind to accomplish a surprising masterpiece and even prepared to be proud of it; Well , his masterpiece did not appear until the death approached .Otherwise, he lived by being a model for some poor painters like him and drunk all day along. That’s the first impression which Behrman gave us at the middle part of the novel.As a matter of fact, Behrman represented a small shadow of American West people that seek fortune in 19th century .O.Henry was also born in a doctor family, which made him informed of the difficulties the poor had met. And we could discover many familiar roles in his novels, like Soapy in Thecop and the Anthem , John Adair in A Municipal ReportJim and Della in The Gift of the Magi. As a loyal reader to O.Henry ,I guess these characters appearing in his novels might be someone he knew or heard, might be his friends or himself. At least these roles reflected O.Henry’s real voice into his mind. For some reasons, O.Henry had been in prison for 3 years during which he made his famous novel The cop and the Anthem.To some extent , Soapy’s painfulness was O.Henry’s .When he offered to get in the jail, it was refused; When he washed his brain and decide to live a common life he wanted, he was caught with no reason. This ridiculous result conveyed a great joke of American society.Now back to the old painter Behrman, O.Henry did not tell how he helped Johnsy, how he painted his masterpiece and why he chose to do it and readers knew it from the conversation between Sue and Johnsy as follows:"I have something to tell you, white mouse," Sue said. "Mr. Behrman died of pneumonia to-day in the hospital. He was ill only two days. The janitor found him the morning of the first day in his room downstairs helpless with pain. His shoes and clothing were wet through and icy cold. They couldn't imagine where he had been on such a dreadful night. look out thewindow, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wall. Didn't you wonder why it never fluttered or moved when the wind blew? Ah, darling, it's Behrman's masterpiece - he painted it there the night 4Behrman died at the end of the novel. Such a kind of way declaring Behrman’s death may mot surprise us, because we all know, his pneumonia was much worse than Johnsy and death will come sooner or later. Anyways, Behrman saved Johnsy in a silent and artistic way, which truly shocked me .That’s also why I like this characterBehrman and this novel, even though O.Henry did not give him too many words.Perhaps, this writing style might make this character greater and stand out in the other side, I think.That last leaf never means the last life. Behrman was like a doctor more than a painter. It cured Johnsy’s pneumonia and gave her a strong courage and great hope to hold on. What a great value his masterpiece had made! Meanwhile, Behrman seemed more alive than dead. We could say, Behrman did not only save a person’s life, but successfully saved an American dream for all the people who seek freedom and peace. Behrman died in the right way; He also taught us a lesson named “what’s humanity and where it lies”. That’s what his masterpiecebrought us here and now.As is mentioned, Johnsy’s dream was to paint the Bay of Naples before she passed away. I could not imagine whether it had been realized or not. However,I was sure of Behrman’s--------the last leaf and the lasting life.Reference:1.vine n.藤；葡萄树；藤类植物22012/5/1932012/5/194王旭红编译2005 大连理工大学出版社《美国短篇小说精选》127(正文共计723字，其中引文120字)联系方式：132********768292652@第二篇：最后一片叶子欧亨利《最后一片叶子》欧亨利在华盛顿广场西边的一个小区里，街道横七竖八地伸展开去，又分裂成一小条一小条的“胡同”。
这些“胡同”希奇古怪地拐着弯子，一条街有时自己本身就交叉了不止一次。
有一回一个画家发现这条街有一种优越性：要是有个收账的跑到这个街上，来催要颜料、纸张和画布的钱，他就会突然发现自己两手空空，原路返回，一文钱的帐也没有要到！所以，不久之后不少画家就摸索到这个古色古香的老格林尼治村来，寻求朝北的窗户、十八世纪的尖顶山墙、荷兰式的阁楼，以及低廉的房租。