Ⅰ 推荐一些英文短篇小说
相信你会喜欢这篇短小的小说的。
Appointment With Love －－By Sulamith Ish-Kishor
Six minutes to six, said the great round clock over the information booth in Grand Central Station. The tall young Army lieutenant who had just come from the direction of the tracks lifted his sunburned face, and his eyes narrowed to note the exact time. His heart was pounding with a beat that shocked him because he could not control it. In six minutes, he would see the woman who had filled such a special place in his life for the past 13 months, the woman he had never seen, yet whose written words had been with him and sustained him unfailingly.
He placed himself as close as he could to the information booth, just beyond the ring of people besieging the clerks...
Lieutenant Blandford remembered one night in particular, the worst of the fighting, when his plane had been caught in the midst of a pack of Zeros. He had seen the grinning face of one of the enemy pilots.
In one of his letters, he had confessed to her that he often felt fear, and only a few days before this battle, he had received her answer: "Of course you fear...all brave men do. Didn't King David know fear? That's why he wrote the 23rd Psalm. Next time you doubt yourself, I want you to hear my voice reciting to you: 'Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for Thou art with me.'" And he had remembered; he had heard her imagined voice, and it had renewed his strength and skill.
Now he was going to hear her real voice. Four minutes to six. His face grew sharp.
Under the immense, starred roof, people were walking fast, like threads of color being woven into a gray web. A girl passed close to him, and Lieutenant Blandford started. She was wearing a red flower in her suit lapel, but it was a crimson sweet pea, not the little red rose they had agreed upon. Besides, this girl was too young, about 18, whereas Hollis Meynell had frankly told him she was 30. "Well, what of it?" he had answered. "I'm 32." He was 29.
His mind went back to that book - the book the Lord Himself must have put into his hands out of the hundreds of Army library books sent to the Florida training camp. Of Human Bondage, it was; and throughout the book were notes in a woman's writing. He had always hated that writing-in habit, but these remarks were different. He had never believed that a woman could see into a man's heart so tenderly, so understandingly. Her name was on the bookplate: Hollis Meynell. He had got hold of a New York City telephone book and found her address. He had written, she had answered. Next day he had been shipped out, but they had gone on writing.
For 13 months, she had faithfully replied, and more than replied. When his letters did not arrive she wrote anyway, and now he believed he loved her, and she loved him.
But she had refused all his pleas to send him her photograph. That seemed rather bad, of course. But she had explained: "If your feeling for me has any reality, any honest basis, what I look like won't matter. Suppose I'm beautiful. I'd always be haunted by the feeling that you had been taking a chance on just that, and that kind of love would disgust me. Suppose I'm plain (and you must admit that this is more likely). Then I'd always fear that you were going on writing to me only because you were lonely and had no one else. No, don't ask for my picture. When you come to New York, you shall see me and then you shall make your decision. Remember, both of us are free to stop or to go on after that - whichever we choose..."
One minute to six - Lieutenant Blandford's heart leaped higher than his plane had ever done.
A young woman was coming toward him. Her figure was long and slim; her blond hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears. Her eyes were blue as flowers, her lips and chin had a gentle firmness. In her pale green suit, she was like springtime come alive.
He started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was wearing no rose, and as he moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips.
"Going my way, soldier?" she murmured.
Uncontrollably, he made one step closer to her. Then he saw Hollis Meynell.
She was standing almost directly behind the girl, a woman well past 40, her graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump; her thick-ankled feet were thrust into low-heeled shoes. But she wore a red rose in the rumpled lapel of her brown coat.
The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away.
Blandford felt as though he were being split in two, so keen was his desire to follow the girl, yet so deep was his longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned and upheld his own; and there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible; he could see that now. Her gray eyes had a warm, kindly twinkle.
Lieutenant Blandford did not hesitate. His fingers gripped the small worn, blue leather of Of Human Bondage, which was to identify him to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even rarer than love - a friendship for which he had been and must ever be grateful.
He squared his broad shoulders, saluted and held the book out toward the woman, although even while he spoke he felt shocked by the bitterness of his disappointment.
"I'm Lieutenant John Blandford, and you - you are Miss Meynell. I'm so glad you could meet me. May...may I take you to dinner?"
The woman's face broadened in a tolerant smile. "I don't know what this is all about, son," she answered. "That young lady in the green suit - the one who just went by - begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said that if you asked me to go out with you, I should tell you that she's waiting for you in that big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of a test. I've got two boys with Uncle Sam myself, so I didn't mind to oblige you."
Ⅱ 英语短篇故事
1.Once a fox invited a stork to dinner. He put nothing on the table except some soup in a very shallow dish.
The fox could easily lap up the soup, but the stork could only wet the end of her long bill in it. When she left the meal, she was still very hungry. "I am sorry," said the fox, "the soup is not to your taste."
"Please do not apologize," said the stork. "I hope you will come to my house, and dine with me soon."
A few days later the fox visited the stork. He found that his food was put in a long bottle, and the mouth of the bottle was very narrow. He could not insert his big mouth into it, so he ate nothing.
"I will not apologize," said the stork. "One bad turn deserves another."
一次，狐狸请鹳来吃饭。他除了浅盘子中的一点汤以外，什么也没有准备。
狐狸可以轻而易举地喝到汤，但是鹳只够蘸湿他长长的嘴尖。吃完饭后，鹳仍旧很饥饿。"很抱歉！"狐狸说，"这汤不合你的口味"。
"别客气，"鹳说，"过几天请到我家来和我一起吃饭吧。"
几天后，狐狸应邀而至，他发现食物都装在一个长长的瓶子里，而瓶口很细，他无法将他的大嘴伸进去，什么也吃不到。
"我不想道歉，这是你应得的回报。"鹳说。
2.A woman was singing. One of the guests turned to a man
by his side and criticized the singer.
"What a terrible voice!"he said. "Do you know who she is?"
"yes." was the answer,"she is my wife."
"Oh,I beg your parden," the man said. "Of course her voice
isn't bad, but the song is very bad. I wondered who wrote that awful song?"
" I did," was the answer.
有一个妇女在唱歌。一个宾馆的客人对旁边的男人问道：“这是多么可怕的歌声啊，你知道她是谁？”
“是的”，男人回答到“他是我妻子”。
“OH，我的兄弟，其实她的声音并不难听，主要是这歌词写的不好，是谁写的这么可怕的歌词？”
“我写的”男人回答道.
Ⅲ 英语短篇小说
你可以抄看“书虫”
书虫”是外语教袭学与研究出版社和牛津大学出版社共同奉献给广大英语学习者的一大精品。书虫在英语中大概是颇可爱的形象。想象一下，有那么一只勤勉的小虫，它如痴如醉地沉迷于书卷，孜孜不倦地咀嚼着字母……
如今这只“书虫”漂洋过海，轻盈地落在了中国英语学习者的掌中。“书虫”首先将给你自信，即使你目前只有几百的词汇量，也可以不太费劲地阅览世界名作了。书虫还会用它细细的鸣叫声不停地提醒你：要坚持不懈地读下去，要广泛而丰富地读下去。待到读完丛书系列中的最后一本，你也许会突然发现：你已经如蛹画碟，振翅欲翔了！
第五级：2000生词量，适合高一学生，共4本。
1、《远大前程》 （已收录）
2、《大卫·科波菲尔》 （已收录）
3、《呼啸山庄》 （已收录）
4、《远离尘嚣》 （已收录）
第六级：2300生词量，适合高二、高三学生，共4本
1、《简·爱》
2、《雾都孤儿》 （已收录）
3、《傲慢与偏见》
4、《苔丝》 （已收录）
Ⅳ 介绍几部经典英文短篇小说
《欧亨利短篇小说精选》欧·亨利最优秀的多篇短篇小说代表作，如《麦琪版的礼物》、《警察权和赞美诗》、《最后一片常春藤叶》、《带家具出租的房问》等。这些作品脍灸人口，经久不衰。欧·亨利是美国最著名的短篇小说家之一。他的作品构思新颖。语言诙谐，富于生活情趣，结局常常出人意外，善于描写美国社会尤其是纽约百姓的生活，堪称“美国生活的幽默网络全书”。
Ⅳ 求一篇英语中短篇小说（2000字左右，最好是带中文翻译的）
Ⅵ 求1000字以内英语短篇小说！
《蒙娜丽莎》风波
On Tuesday August 11th, 1911, a young artist, Louis Beraud, arrived at the Louvre（卢浮宫） in Paris to complete a painting of the Salon Carre（卡雷沙龙，卢浮宫的画廊名）. This was the room where the world 's most famous painting, the Mona Lisa by Leonardo da Vinci（列奥那多·达·芬奇）, was on display. To his surprise there was an empty space where the painting should have been. At 11 o'clock the museum authorities realized that the painting had been stolen. The next day headlines all over the world announced the theft.
这一天是1911年8月11日，星期二，一位年轻的艺术家路易斯·贝劳德来到了巴黎卢浮宫的卡雷沙龙画廊完成一幅油画，在这条画廊里陈列着世界上最著名的油画——列奥纳多·达·芬奇创作的《蒙娜丽莎》。令路易斯感到吃惊的是，本该挂着油画的地方却是空空荡荡的。中午11时博物馆馆方意识到这幅名画已经被盗了。第二天全球各大报刊的头条新闻都报道了《蒙娜丽莎》被盗的消息。
Actually the Leonardo had been gone for more than twenty-four hours before anyone noticed it was missing. The museum was always closed on Mondays for maintenance（维修）. Just before closing time on Sunday three men had entered the museum, where they had hidden themselves in a storeroom. The actual theft was quick and simple. Early the next morning Perrugia removed the painting from the wall while the others kept watch. Then they went out a back exit.
实际上，直到达·芬奇的这幅画被盗24小时后才有人发现此事。每逢星期一卢浮宫都要闭馆例行保养文物。就在星期天，有三个人进入了博物馆并藏在贮藏室里。他们的盗窃行动迅速而简单，第二天一大早，三个盗贼之一佩鲁吉亚从墙上取下《蒙娜丽莎》，其余两个为他望风，然后他们从后门溜走逃得无影无踪了。
Nothing was seen or heard of the painting for two years when Perrugia tried to sell it to a dealer for half a million lire（里拉）. Perrugia was arrested on December 13th. Perrugia claimed he had stolen it as an act of patriotism（爱国主义）, because, he said, the painting had been looted from the Italian nation by Napoleon（拿破仑）. Perrugia was imprisoned for seven months. It seemed that the crime of the century had been solved.
《蒙娜丽莎》在被盗后的两年间一直杳无音迅，直到有一天佩鲁吉亚想以50万里拉卖给一个文物贩子时，人们才重新见到它。佩鲁吉亚于1913年12月13日被捕，他宣称偷《蒙娜丽莎》之举完全是出于爱国心。他说，卢浮宫的这幅画是被拿破仑从意大利抢劫来的。佩鲁吉亚为此被判了7个月的监禁，看来这个世纪奇案好像是解决了。
But had it? Perrugia was keen to claim all responsibility for the theft, and it was twenty years before the whole story came out. In fact Perrugia had been working for two master criminals, Valfierno and Chaudron, who went unpunished for their crime. They would offer to steal a famous painting from a gallery for a crooked（不诚实的） dealer or an unscrupulous（肆无忌惮的） private collector. They would then make a of the picture and, with the help of bribed gallery attendants（服务员）, would then tape the to the back of the original（原始的） painting. The dealer would then be taken to the gallery and would be invited to make a secret mark on the back of the painting. Of course the dealer would actually be marking the . Valfierno would later proce forged（伪造） newspaper cuttings announcing the theft of the original, and then proce the , complete with secret marking. If the dealer were to see the painting still in the gallery, he would be persuaded that it was a , and that he possessed the genuine（真正的） one.
果真如此吗?佩鲁吉亚试图把这次盗窃案的全部责任都揽到自己身上。直到二十年后，整个事件的真相才大白于天下。事实上，佩鲁吉亚一直在为两个犯罪头目瓦尔菲尔诺和肖德龙工作。在这个案件中，另两个家伙一直逍遥法外。瓦尔菲尔诺和肖德龙经常从陈列馆偷窃名画提供给奸诈的商人或肆无忌惮的私人收藏家。他们先制作名画的赝品，然后向博物馆的工作人员行贿，以便在博物馆工作人员的协助下将伪造品粘在原作的背后，尔后他们再将文物贩子带到陈列室，并要他在要买的那幅画的背面做上秘密的记号。当然，事实上文物贩子只是在赝品的背面作记号。在此之后，瓦尔菲尔诺就伪造一些剪报宣称原作被盗，然后拿出带有秘密记号的赝品。如果买画的贩子看见画仍然在展出，偷盗者将说服他相信展出的画是赝品，而卖给他的才是真正的原作。
Chaudron then painted not one, but six copies of the Mona Lisa, using 400-year-old wood panels from antique Italian furniture. The forgeries（赝品） were carefully aged, so that the varnish（光泽） was cracked and dirty. Valfierno commissioned Perrugia to steal the original, and told him to hide it until Valfierno contacted him. Perrugia waited in vain in a tiny room in Paris with the painting, but heard nothing from his partners in crime. They had gone to New York, where the six copies were already in store. They had sent them there before the original was stolen. At that time it was quite common for artists to old masters, which would be sold quite honestly（合法的） as imitations（仿造品）, so there had been no problems with US Customs. Valfierno went on to sell all six copies for '300,OOO each. Valfierno told the story to a journalist in 1914, on condition that it would not be published until his death.
肖德龙不仅伪造了一幅，而是六幅《蒙娜丽莎》。他用400年前古意大利老家具做油画板，所有赝品均经过了细心的老化处理，以使油画表面产生裂缝显得不干净。瓦尔菲尔诺指派佩鲁吉亚盗走《蒙娜丽莎》的真品并叫他躲藏起来直到与他取得联系。佩鲁吉亚一直带者那幅画首在巴黎的一间小屋里，可是他却一直未见同伙们的踪迹。原来瓦尔菲尔诺和肖德龙早已跑到了纽约，那里储存着六幅《蒙娜丽莎》的赝品。他们在原作被盗前就已将赝品运到了美国。在那个时代，艺术家们复制已故大师的作品是司空见惯的事情，而且复制品还能够合法地在市场上进行交易，因此复制品可以毫不费力地通过美国海关。在美国瓦尔菲尔诺以每幅300，000美元的价格陆续将这六幅《蒙娜丽莎》赝品出售。1914年瓦尔菲尔诺将事件真相透露给了一位记者，条件是只有等到他死后才能将此事公之于众。
Does the story end there? Collectors have claimed that Perrugia returned a . It is also possible that Leonardo may have painted several versions of the Mona Lisa, or they might be copies made by Leonardo's pupils. There has been a lot of controversy and argument about a 450-year-old painting, but after all, maybe that's what she's smiling about.
事情就此了解了吗?收藏专家们宣称佩鲁吉亚还回的《蒙娜丽莎》或许是赝品。或许当初达·芬奇创作了几个不同版本的《蒙娜丽莎》；或许这些《蒙娜丽莎》皆为达·芬奇的学生们制作的复制品。因此迄今为止人们对于这幅有着450年左右历史的名画，仍有着诸多的争议。也许，这就是蒙娜丽莎微笑的原因吧！
Ⅶ 感人的英文短篇小说
第一节；在一个孤独的小岛上，叶子慌乱地奔跑着。 一个面目不清的男人在后面紧紧追着她，好几次那男人似乎一伸手就能捉住她了。
叶子没命地跑，然而总是跑不快，双脚好象是灌满了铅一样沉。
叶子想呼叫，却叫不出声。叶子已经跑不动了，而且在她面前是一片汪洋，她无处可逃。
叶子瘫痪在地上，她惊恐地回过头，却不见了那个男人。她刚吁了一口气，却发现一条浑身血红的蛇正在向她爬来。
叶子挣扎着要逃，却怎么都站不起来。而且她发现，不知什么时候她已经变得赤身裸体的了！
血红的蛇昂着血红的头向她爬来，叶子绝望地闭上了眼睛。
然而，血红的蛇并没咬她，而是顺着她的脚往上爬。她感到蛇身的圆润滑爽，触在她小腿的肌肤上，竟有一种莫名的快意。血红的蛇还在往上爬，经过她的大腿时，她甚至感觉到了一种似曾相识的温润。
那高昂的血红的蛇头注视着她，似乎在做进攻前的准备。
叶子忽然想起什么，急忙用双手捂住下身。
那血红的蛇头犹豫了一下，突然迅猛地直插了过来，从她的手指间顺利地进入了她的身体！
叶子失声尖叫起来！
叶子终于从梦境中惊醒了过来，小夜灯粉色的光温柔地充满卧室的空间。她伸手开了床头灯。这时，她感觉到了身体某个地方的湿润。
她不明白最近为什么总在做这些离奇古怪的梦，而每次做梦总和她的身体有关…… 一场突如其来的大雨，把这座城市笼罩在了昏暗的雨雾中。
叶子站在中天大厦最高一层的落地玻璃窗前，看着雨水顺着玻璃不停地向下流淌，仿佛是千万条悬空的小溪。
因为加班赶一份文案，叶子没能按时下班赶在大雨到来之前回去。虽然，在下班前就已经预见这场大雨。所以当同事们尤其是那些女孩子在下班前几分钟，就在嚷嚷着呼朋唤友地准备逃离写字楼时，叶子仍然埋头在电脑前，不为所动。
叶子觉得下雨没什么可怕的，相反倒是给人一种清新的空气。大雨洗涤过的城市特别干净，就连树木花草都显得格外清新。怕下雨的不过是那些故作娇柔的女孩子的一种作态罢了。
但当她终于把手头的工作做完时，她才发现，这场大雨没她想的那么简单。从下班前几分钟就一直下到现在，而且丝毫没有要停下来的意思。
刚开始，叶子还心情很好地站在窗前居高临下地欣赏雨景。然而，随着时间的推移，她看到大雨一点也没有变小，她开始有点心急了。而且，大厦管理员已经第三次敲她的门，示意她大厦要清场了。
叶子不得不离开写字楼，下到楼底站在大厦的门廊，雨势还是没有减退。
大街上几乎没有行人，只有各种各样的车辆在雨幕中穿梭，飞驰的车轮溅起两扇白色的水花。
也许天黑这雨也停不了，叶子开始有点着急起来。她住在郊外的鸣泉山庄，过了八点就没有专线车了。打出租车至少要花七、八十元钱，这是她一天的工资了。而且这大雨天，出租车也不是那么好打的。一想到这，一向沉静的叶子不由得也急躁起来，不时四处张望着，希望能有空的出租车从这里经过，但很快她就气馁了，因为这么长的时间，她没有看到一辆出租车是空的。
叶子心一急，就不停地原地踏步。恍惚中她感觉到好像有人在注意她。她回过头，果然离她不远的地方，站着一个四十岁左右的男人，正注视着她，而且那目光中分明含有一种轻薄的成分。
男人，尤其是这种年龄的男人，在看年轻漂亮的女孩子时，都用这种目光，那是一种恨不得马上扒掉别人衣服的目光，阴郁暧昧而充满欲望。
叶子厌恶地把脸转过一边，对这种男人，她心里充满了鄙视和厌恶。
一辆白色的别克轿车驶来，停在了门廊前。那男人走过来打开车门上了车，坐在车上，他朝叶子笑了笑，说：“小姐，要不要送你？你看这雨下得好大的！”
从发现他的那时起，叶子就知道他会这么说。叶子心里冷笑了一下，不理他。
那男人自讨没趣，只好尴尬地笑了笑关上了车门，轿车无声地向前滑了出去。看着远去的车尾，叶子突然感到自已刚才有点过分了，不管怎么样，出于礼节也应该对他说声谢谢，或许人家真的是出于好心。叶子感觉到自已有点失态了。
都是这该死的雨！
忽然，那车又回来了，不过是亮着倒车灯倒回来的，一直倒到叶子的身边才停下，车门打开，那男人下车递给叶子一把雨伞，说：“小姐，这伞您先用着吧，这雨怕是一时半时停不了的。”
“这？”叶子几乎是没有犹豫就接过了伞，并对他连声道谢。他笑了笑转身上了车，关上了车门。
“哎，先生，这伞我怎么还给你呀？”叶子追上前问。
“不用还了，送你用吧。”他欲摇上车窗。
“那怎么行，先生，这伞我是一定要还给你的。”叶子说。
他沉吟了一下，递给叶子一张名片说：“如果要还，你就打电话给我罢。”说完关上车窗走了。
“谢谢！”叶子冲着远去的车喊道。 叶子终于赶上了末班专线车，回到鸣泉山庄时，天已经完全黑了下来。叶子顺便在山庄街市吃了一碗面，就算吃了晚餐了。她到超市买了些水果就上楼了。
这两居室是以月租一千元人民币从一个姓杨的香港人手里租下来的。鸣泉山庄因为远离市区，交通不是很方便。因此住在这里的大都是有私家车的业主，他们大多数都是住在掬水湾别墅区。高层住宅区主要是一些在广州打工的白领阶层购买的。也有一部分是像杨先生那样的香港人买了作为回内地时的歇脚点，他们当中更多的是作为和内地情人幽会用的。因为他们知道在大陆租房子和情人幽会，风险极高。不但手续繁琐，光是那些名目繁多的检查就让人心惊肉跳。所以有点钱的香港人都喜欢买一套房子放在内地让情人居住，自已则在周末和节假日回来幽会。毕竟是业主，没有人会来麻烦。而更多的则是象叶子这样的租住户，虽然他们也算是白领，但属于那种还没有在广州站稳脚跟的白领，和那些四处漂泊的民工不同的是，他们从事的工作相对来说比较体面，收入也比较高并且相对稳定。
在广州，拥有一套属于自已的房产，就等于在广州市有了合法的身份。否则，就永远是盲流和“三无人员”，面临着随时被罚款、拘留、送进收容站的危险。
Ⅷ 经典短篇英文小说
经典短篇小说好多呢！用词比较简单，但意义深刻！更重要的是每一篇都短小精悍！（符合你的要求哦）
1.《生火》杰克.伦敦 To Build a Fire (Jack LondonP
2.《厄谢尔府的倒塌》 爱伦.坡
The Fall of the House of Usher (Edgar Allan Poe)
3.《项链》莫泊桑 The Necklace (Guy de Maupassant)
4.《警察与赞美诗》欧.亨利 The Cop and the Anthem
(O Henry)
5.《麦琪的礼物》欧.亨利 Magi's gift (O Henry)
6.《最后一片藤叶》欧.亨利 The Last Leaf (O Henry)
7.《加利维拉县有名的跳蛙》马克.吐温 The Notorious Jumping Frog of Calaveras County
（Mark Twain)
8.《人生的五种恩赐》马克.吐温
The Five Boons of Life （Mark Twain)
9.《三生客》 托马斯.哈代 The Three Strangers
(Thomas Hardy)
10.《敞开的落地窗》萨基 The Open Window (Saki)
11.《末代佳人》菲茨杰拉德 The Last of the Belles
(F.S.Fitzgerald)
12.《手》舍伍德.安德森 Hands
13.《伊芙琳》詹姆斯.乔伊斯 Eveline
14.《教长的黑色面纱》纳撒尼尔.霍桑
Ⅸ 求一篇英文短篇小说的英文赏析
你好！帮你在网上找的。只有找了麦琪的礼物，其他的知道这边也放不下。建议你要找英文的评析可以在谷歌搜索：review of 书本英文名
中文~（如果有时间，可以试着自己翻译，试练英文水平哈）
《麦琪的礼物》赏析
麦琪，是圣子耶稣诞生时前来送礼的三位智慧的贤人。他们首创了圣诞节馈赠礼物的风俗。在西方人看来，圣诞礼物是最可珍贵的，因而也希望自己获得的礼物是最有价值的“麦琪的礼物”。
美国著名作家欧·亨利在《麦琪的礼物》这篇小说中，用他笔调幽默又带有淡淡哀伤的艺术语言讲述了一个“没有曲折、不足为奇的故事”。以圣诞前夜馈赠礼物如此平常的题材创构的小说，在西方文坛并非罕见，其中也不乏精心之作，而欧·亨利的《麦琪的礼物》独自绝响，成为这类题材的杰作，确实是令人深思的。
首先，从内容上看。全篇以馈赠圣诞礼物为中心线，写了美国一对贫穷而恩爱的夫妇。这个家庭的主妇为了节省每个铜子儿，不得不“每次一个、两个向杂货铺、菜贩和肉店老板那儿死乞白赖地硬扣下来”。尽管如此，到圣诞前夕全家只剩下一块八毛七分钱。作家不用多费笔墨去写这个家庭的拮据困窘，只是简单地用“一块八毛七分钱”引出全篇。唯其如是，深爱丈夫的主妇德拉把这钱数了三遍，并因为无法为丈夫购得一件称心的“麦琪的礼物”而伤心地哭泣。欧·亨利最擅长用貌似平淡的话语作素描，去营构一种气氛，让读者沉湎其中，领味和思考人物的命运。“一块八毛七分钱”为这个“没有曲折、不足为奇的故事”营构的忧郁凄凉的气氛始终贯穿全文，即使写到夫妇看到礼物时的瞬时惊喜和欢乐时也明显地带有这种气氛袒露的伤痛。“人生是由啜泣、抽噎和微笑组成的，而抽噎占了其中绝大部分”。这句话似乎折射出欧·亨利对当时美国现实的深沉思考。作家写出了一对贫穷夫妇的痛苦，也在对人物思想性格和故事情节的描写中，把读者的趣味引向高尚的境界，给人以启迪，让人从中获得美的陶冶。这是《麦琪的礼物》这篇小说真正价值之所在。
德拉为了给丈夫心爱的金表配上一副精巧的表链，忍痛卖掉自己一头美丽的头发。那“美丽的头发披散在身上，像一股褐色的小瀑布，奔泻闪亮”，丈夫吉姆非常喜爱妻子这头美丽的褐发。他深知爱妻为了装扮头发对百老汇路上一家商店橱窗里陈列的玳瑁发梳渴望已久。为了在圣诞前夕给爱妻赠送玳瑁发梳作为有价值的“麦琪的礼物”，吉姆也忍痛卖掉了三代祖传的金表。德拉的美发和吉姆的金表，是这个贫穷家庭中唯一引为自豪的珍贵财产。为了对爱人表示深挚的爱，他们在圣诞之夜失去了这两件最珍贵的财产，换来了已无金表与之匹配的表链和已无美发借之装扮的发梳。瞬间的欢乐付出了昂贵的代价，而随之而来的无疑是深深的痛苦。欧·亨利经过对现实生活的深沉思考之后，精心筛选了这个故事的主要情节，使这类易入俗套的题材焕发出奇异动人的光彩。金表和美发，对这个每星期只收入20块钱的家庭来说是一笔不可复得的巨大财富。这个遗憾带来的苦涩感，使每个善良的读者心扉颤栗。这个凝聚着社会现实生活无法解决的真实矛盾(爱情和财富)因作家深沉的文笔而倍增真实，更能引起读者的怜悯和同情，并将他们引入更深刻的思考中去。欧·亨利的短篇小说一向不以奇诡情节取胜，揭示复杂的社会生活往往不过摄取其中一个镜头，但那种刻意追求的以情动人的独特艺术效果，却能透过“没有曲折、不足为奇的故事”冲击读者的心扉。德拉和吉姆为了一时的感情冲动，“极不聪明地为了对方牺牲了他们一家最宝贵的东西”，作家把他们称作“两个住在一间公寓里的笨孩子”。在那个唯金钱万能的社会中，他们的礼物不能算作是智慧的“麦琪的礼物”。但是，他们失去了财富，却加深了人世间最可宝贵的真挚的爱情。在爱情与财富的矛盾中他们为了前者牺牲了后者。所以，作家在小说末尾留下了一段意味深长的话：“让我们对目前一般聪明人说最后一句话，在所有馈赠礼物的人当中，他们两个是最聪明的……他们就是麦琪。”
小说揭示社会现实不靠说教，而是用人物感情起伏的发展变化引为脉络，启发读者去触摸、感受人物带有悲剧色彩的思想性格。在那个金钱可以买卖爱情，心理和感情出现畸变的社会中，德拉夫妇之间真挚深厚的爱充满了作家的理想主义的色彩。欧·亨利不写这个社会中金钱作贱爱情的罪恶，偏去写这个晦暗镜头中的诗情画意，去赞扬德拉夫妇的聪慧，这绝非常人手笔。所以，作品给人的不是消沉和晦暗，而是对美的追求和眷恋，从而把读者引向高尚的境界。
一般说来，短篇小说因其篇幅短小，要求作家以“少少许”胜“多多许”，就必须笔墨凝练，刻画人物风姿只能抓住一两个侧面去作速写勾勒。其难度在某种程度上未必比中、长篇小。欧·亨利的短篇常以他独具风格的感伤笔调和诙谐轻快的笔锋，去刻画人物和铺展情节，使笔下的形象富有立体感，并给人以不尽的余韵。《麦琪的礼物》正是这个艺术特色的代表作。裁剪精到的构思，对话般亲切的语言，微带忧郁的情调，使这个短篇在缕缕情感的光束中显露出丰厚的内涵，激发读者对爱情、金钱的价值的思考。作家细致地写德拉无钱为丈夫买礼物的焦灼心情，写德拉的美发，甚至写德拉上街卖发和买表链的全过程，却惜墨如金地避开了吉姆卖金表买发梳的经过。作家可以细致地描写吉姆回家后德拉担心失去美发会伤害吉姆的爱所作的一连串解释，却在吉姆讲完卖金表事之后戛然然止住全文。时而细致入微，时而寥寥数笔，读者仍能从那些不着文字之处领悟作家的弦外之音。这种寄实于虚，并兼用暗示和略写的手法，是《麦琪的礼物》所独具的。
以下是谷歌找到的英文评论：
Jim and Doller, though they are only the small potatoes who live in the lower classes, they never lost their fervency to their lives and love each other deeply, penury is so insignificant when it is in this warm sentiment. At the Christmas' Eve, they were still thinking about the presents they should give to each other, how romantic! Even though it seemed that these presents is no longer useful, they have been the most costful one in the world, like a sincere love to each other. March is a bright man, the most bright man, because he is a bright man, his presents are also bright presents. How ever our Jim and Doller, they immolated their most precious thins for another unadvisably. But let's say the last word to the current bright people, among all the people who gave presents those two was the most bright. Among all the people who not onil give but also receive, those two was also the most bright. Wherever they are the most bright. They give each other a invaluable thing with their loveness heart. However this invaluable thing, any of the person who always thinks he is the most bright or richest could has it, and couldn't give either. Christmas Day is coming now, dear friends, are ready?
英文评论："It is not surprising that 'The Gift of the Magi' still enjoys such widespread fame, for in this trite little tale of mutual self-sacrifice between husband and wife, O. Henry crystallized dramatically what the world in all its stored-up wisdom knows to be of fundamental value in ordinary family life. Unselfish love shared, regardless of the attendant difficulties or distractions--this is the idea repeatedly implied as a criterion in his fictional treatment of domestic affairs. If such love is present, life can be a great adventure transcending all drabness; if it is absent, nothing else can take its place....O. Henry wrote few stories of ordinary family life that approach in tenderness and universal appeal the qualities found in 'The Gift of the Magi'
by Current-Garcia
以下是摘自新浪博客《麦琪的礼物》英文读后感
《Impression of "The Gift of the Magi"》
It's a short story by O.Henry that has moved me for a long time.Maybe most of you are familar with its name,that is,The Gift of the Magi.I have read it many times but every time I like to read it slowly and deliberately.I think "The Gift of the Magi"
is meant to be savored.
Maybe there is no necessity for me to repeat the main idea of the story.But I'm so fascinated with the short story that I want to retell it yo you,and to myself.
It happened to a very poor but blissful young couple named Jim and Della in the end of 18th century in England.Because of the maladies of that society and the effect of economic crisis,they worked hard but earned little.Life is very hard for them.Despite of this,their love to each other and the enthusiasm for life didn't changed at all.When Chrismas day was approuching ,Della used the money she got from selling her beautiful hair which she treasured very much to give Jim a fob for his grandfather's pocket watch.But Jim had already sold that watch to buy Della tortoiseshell combs to wear in her long hair,not knowing she'd cut it off.
It appears that the gifts they gave each other have been useless.But I think they gave each other the best of what they had to make the other happy.Isn't that true love?We can image,in such rough conditions,as it said in the story,"Life is made up of sobs,sniffles,and smiles,with sniffles predominating."Its't absolute reasonable for them to be beaten by the misery.But the fact is that no matter how tough life had been,they would't lose heart.With strong faith and their love ,they did their best to make the other pleased."Whennever Mr. James came home and reached his flat ,above he was called 'Jim'and greatly hugged by Mrs. James."Maybe this account is the best description of their love and struggle against hard life.It was said that the povertier life is ,the firmer and truer love is."Actually,they'd given the very best they had out of love.
"They are too foolish children in a flat,who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house.But in a last word,to the wise of these days,let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest."Said the writer in the last paragraph.Yes,they are wisest.They are the magi.Are there any reasons for us not to show respect for the young couple?
I remind my grandparents.They have spent fifty years together.No romantic words,no stirring behaviours,just comman even pedestrian life.But I can say love exists in every detail of their life.They have gone through war period,three years' natural disasters,cultural revolution and so on.But no matter what happens,they are always considering for the other.Even now both of them have become old step by step,they still cared about each other.My grandparents,in my opinion,is a pair of lovers forever.
Love has nothing to do with money,possession or status.It's consideration,tolerance and respect.It's giving one's best to the other even it means sacrifice.It's affection which connects two persons' hearts,and it's reinforced by adversities.
Struggle against adversities.Nothing did they have,at least they owened love.Never give up as long as love exists.From"The Gift of the Magi",from Jim and Della and from my grandparents,I have learned a lot about love,life and hope.
Ⅹ 求一篇短篇小说（英文的，字数500-1000词）
Many artists lived in the Greenwich Village area of New York. Two young women named Sue and Johnsy shared a studio apartment at the top of a three-story building. Johnsy's real name was Joanna. In November, a cold, unseen stranger came to visit the city. This disease, pneumonia, killed many people. Johnsy lay on her bed, hardly moving. She looked through the small window. She could see the side of the brick house next to her building. One morning, a doctor examined Johnsy and took her temperature. Then he spoke with Sue in another room. "She has one chance in -- let us say ten," he said. "And that chance is for her to want to live. Your friend has made up her mind that she is not going to get well. Has she anything on her mind?" "She -- she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples in Italy some day," said Sue. "Paint?" said the doctor. "Bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking twice -- a man for example?" "A man?" said Sue. "Is a man worth -- but, no, doctor; there is nothing of the kind." "I will do all that science can do," said the doctor. "But whenever my patient begins to count the carriages at her funeral, I take away fifty percent from the curative power of medicines." After the doctor had gone, Sue went into the workroom and cried. Then she went to Johnsy's room with her drawing board, whistling ragtime. Johnsy lay with her face toward the window. Sue stopped whistling, thinking she was asleep. She began making a pen and ink drawing for a story in a magazine. Young artists must work their way to "Art" by making pictures for magazine stories. Sue 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 a little later "eleven"; and then "ten" and "nine;" and then "eight" and "seven," almost together. Sue looked out the window. What was there to count? There was only an empty yard and the blank side of the house seven meters away. An old ivy vine, going bad at the roots, climbed half way up the wall. The cold breath of autumn had stricken leaves from the plant until its branches, almost bare, hung on the bricks. "What is it, dear?" asked Sue. "Six," said Johnsy, quietly. "They're falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It made my head hurt to count them. But now it's easy. There goes another one. There are only five left now." "Five what, dear?" asked Sue. "Leaves. On the plant. 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 a thing," said Sue. "What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well? And you used to love that vine. Don't be silly. 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! Try to eat some soup now. And, let me go back to my drawing, so I can sell it to the magazine and buy food and wine for us." "You needn't get any more wine," said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out the window. "There goes another one. No, I don't want any soup. 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, "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 tomorrow." "Tell me as soon as you have finished," said Johnsy, closing her eyes and lying white and still as a fallen statue. "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 Mister Behrman up to be my model for my drawing of an old miner. Don't try to move until I come back." Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor of the apartment building. Behrman was a failure in art. For years, he had always been planning to paint a work of art, but had never yet begun it. He earned a little money by serving as a model to artists who could not pay for a professional model. He was a fierce, little, old man who protected the two young women in the studio apartment above him. Sue found Behrman in his room. In one area was a blank canvas that had been waiting twenty-five years for the first line of paint. Sue told him about Johnsy and how she feared that her friend would float away like a leaf. Old Behrman was angered at such an idea. "Are there people in the world with the foolishness to die because leaves drop off a vine? Why do you let that silly business come in her brain?" "She is very sick and weak," said Sue, "and the disease has left her mind full of strange ideas." "This is not any place in which one so good as Miss Johnsy shall lie sick," yelled Behrman. "Some day I will paint a masterpiece, and we shall all go away." Johnsy was sleeping when they went upstairs. Sue pulled the shade down to cover the window. She and Behrman went into the other room. They looked out a window fearfully at the ivy vine. Then they looked at each other without speaking. A cold rain was falling, mixed with snow. Behrman sat and posed as the miner. The next morning, Sue awoke after an hour's sleep. She found Johnsy with wide-open eyes staring at the covered window. "Pull up the shade; I want to see," she ordered, quietly. Sue obeyed. After the beating rain and fierce wind that blew through the night, there yet stood against the wall one ivy leaf. It was the last one on the vine. It was still dark green at the center. But its edges were colored with the yellow. It hung bravely from the branch about seven meters above the ground. "It is the last one," said Johnsy. "I thought it would surely fall ring the night. I heard the wind. It will fall today and I shall die at the same time." "Dear, dear!" said Sue, leaning her worn face down toward the bed. "Think of me, if you won't think of yourself. What would I do?" But Johnsy did not answer. The next morning, when it was light, Johnsy demanded that the window 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 preparing chicken soup. "I've been a bad girl," said Johnsy. "Something has made that last leaf stay there to show me how bad I was. It is wrong to want to die. You may bring me a little soup now." An hour later she said: "Someday I hope to paint the Bay of Naples." Later in the day, the doctor came, and Sue talked to him in the hallway. "Even chances," said the doctor. "With good care, you'll win. And now I must see another case I have in your building. Behrman, his name is -- some kind of an artist, I believe. Pneumonia, too. He is an old, weak man and his case is severe. There is no hope for him; but he goes to the hospital today to ease his pain." The next day, the doctor said to Sue: "She's out of danger. You won. Nutrition and care now -- that's all." Later that day, Sue came to the bed where Johnsy lay, and put one arm around her. "I have something to tell you, white mouse," she said. "Mister Behrman died of pneumonia today in the hospital. He was sick only two days. They found him the morning of the first day in his room downstairs helpless with pain. His shoes and clothing were completely wet and icy cold. They could not imagine where he had been on such a terrible night. And then they found a lantern, still lighted. And they found a ladder that had been moved from its place. And art supplies and a painting board with green and yellow colors mixed on it. And look out the window, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wall. Didn't you wonder why it never moved when the wind blew? Ah, darling, it is Behrman's masterpiece ¨C he painted it there the night that the last leaf fell."