Name: THE LAST LEAF - the classic short story by O. Henry, presented by classic-tales.net
Uploaded: 2015-09-28T04:32:49.000Z
Duration: 18 min 26 s
Description: Thousands of YouTube videos with English-Chinese subtitles! Now you can learn to understand native speakers, expand your vocabulary, and improve your pronunciation...

In a little district west of Washington Square the streets have run crazy and broken themselves

These "places" make strange angles and curves.

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

At the top of a squatty, three-story brick Sue and Johnsy had their studio.

One was from Maine; the other from California.

They had met at the table d'hote of an Eighth street "Delmonico's," and found their tastes

in art, chicory salad and bishop sleeves so congenial that the joint studio resulted.

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, gray eyebrow.

"She has one chance in -- let us say, ten," he said, as he shook down the mercury in his

"And that chance is for her to want to live.

This way people have of lining-up on the side of the undertaker makes the entire pharmacopeia

Your little lady has made up her mind that she's not going to get well.

"She -- she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples some day," said Sue.

"Paint? -- bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking about 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

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 on the figure

of the hero, an Idaho cowboy, she heard a low sound, several times repeated.

She was looking out the window and counting -- counting backward.

"Twelve," she said, and a little later "eleven;" and then "ten," and "nine;" and then "eight"

There was only a bare, dreary yard to be seen, and the blank side of the brick house twenty

An old, old ivy vine, gnarled and decayed at the roots, climbed half way up the brick

The cold breath of autumn had stricken its leaves from the vine until its skeleton branches

clung, almost bare, to the crumbling bricks.

Three days ago there were almost a hundred.

"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.

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

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

"You needn't get any more wine," said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out the window.

I want to see the last one fall before it gets dark.

"Johnsy, dear," said Sue, bending over her, "will you promise me to keep your eyes closed,