Identify three literary devices O. Henry uses in his short story "The Last Leaf," and describe how they help create the tone of the story.
Remember:
-The tone is the way the
author expresses their attitude through writing.
-An author's tone can remain the same or change
throughout the story.
-Tone can be somber, happy,
depressing, angry, exuberant,
comic, serious, ironic, light, playful, etc.
Common Literary Devices: -Metaphor: comparison of two unlike things
-Simile: comparison of two
unlike things using "as" or "like"
-Personification: giving
human qualities to inanimate
objects
-Hyperbole: using overstatement for special effect
-Paradox: something that seems nonsensical or self- contradictory on the surface but on close examination expresses an underlying truth
Write at least 300 words.

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Excerpt from "The Last Leaf" by O. Henry
Toward winter a cold stranger entered Greenwich Village. No one could see him. He walked around touching one person here and another there with his icy fingers. He was a bad sickness. Doctors called him Pneumonia. On the east side of the city he hurried, touching many people; but in the
narrow streets of Greenwich
Village he did not move so quickly.
Mr. Pneumonia was not a nice old gentleman. A nice old gentleman would not hurt a weak little woman from
California. But Mr. Pneumonia
touched Johnsy with his cold
fingers. She lay on her bed almost without moving, and she looked through the window at the wall of the house next to hers.
One morning the busy doctor spoke to Sue alone in the hall, where Johnsy could not hear.
"She has a very small chance," he said. "She has a chance, if she wants to live. If people don't want to live, I can't do much for them. Your little lady has decided that she is not going to get well. Is there something that is troubling her?"
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"Paint! Not paint. Is there anything worth being troubled about? A man?"
"A man?" said Sue. "Is a man worth-No, doctor. There is not a man."
"It is weakness," said the doctor. "I will do all I know how to do. But when a sick person begins to feel that he's going to die, half my work is useless. Talk to her about new winter clothes. If she were interested in the future, her chances would be better."
After the doctor had gone, Sue went into the workroom to cry. Then she walked into Johnsy's room. She carried some of her painting materials, and she was singing.
Johnsy lay there, very thin and very quiet. Her face was
turned toward the window. Sue stopped singing, thinking that Johnsy was asleep. Sue began to work. As she
worked she heard a low
sound, again and again. She went quickly to the bedside. Johnsy's eyes were open wide. She was looking out the window and counting- counting back.
﻿

"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 the side wall of the next house, a short distance away. The wall had no window. An old, old tree
grew against the wall. The cold breath
of winter had already touched it. Almost all its leaves had fallen from its dark branches.
"What is it, dear?" asked Sue.
"Six," said Johnsy, in a voice still lower. "They're falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It hurt my head to count them. But now it's easy. There goes another one. There are only five now."
"Five what, dear? Tell your Sue."
"Leaves. On the tree. When the last one falls, I must go, too. I've known that for three days. Didn't the doctor tell you?"
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"Oh, I never heard of such a
thing," said Sue. "It doesn't have any sense in it. What
does an old tree have to do with you? Or with your getting well? And you used to love that tree so much. Don't be a little fool. The doctor told me your chances for getting well. He told me this morning. He said you had very good chances! Try to eat a little now. And then I'll go back to work. And then I can sell my picture, and then I can buy something more for you to eat to make you strong."
"You don't have to buy anything for me," said Johnsy. She still looked out the window. "There goes another. No, I don't want anything to eat. Now there are four. I want to see the last one fall before night. Then I'll go, too."
"Johnsy, dear," said Sue, "will you promise me to close your eyes and keep them closed? Will you promise not to look out the window until I finish working? I must have this picture ready tomorrow. I
need the light; I can't cover the
window."
"Couldn't you work in the
other room?" asked Johnsy
coldly.
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"I'd rather be here by you," said Sue. "And I don't want you to look at those leaves."
"Tell me as soon as you have finished," said Johnsy. She closed her eyes and lay white and still. "Because I want to see the last leaf fall. I have done enough waiting. I have done enough thinking. I want to go sailing down, down, like one of those leaves."
"Try to sleep," said Sue. "I must call Behrman to come up here. I want to paint a man in this picture, and I'll make him look like Behrman. I won't be gone a minute. Don't try to move till I come back."
Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the first floor of their house. He was past sixty. He had had no success as a painter. For forty years he had painted, without ever painting a good picture. He had always talked of painting a great picture, a masterpiece, but he had never yet started it.
He got a little money by letting others paint pictures of him. He drank too much. He still talked of his great
masterpiece. And he believed that it was his special duty to do everything possible to help Sue and Johnsy.
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Sue found him in his dark room, and she knew that he had been drinking. She could smell it. She told him about Johnsy and the leaves on the vine. She said that she was afraid that Johnsy would indeed sail down, down like the leaf. Her hold on the world
was growing weaker.