"He say General Washington nebber had no children. And den man, man,
when he insult me lak dat, I jump on him lak a wil' cat. We fought an'
we fit. We fit an' we fought. I got him down an' bit one o' his years
clean off smooth wid his head. In de las' clinch he git hol' er my lef
year a'fo' I could shake him, he bit de top of hit off, sah. I got him
by the froat an' choke hit outen his mouf. And dar hit is, sah."

He held up the dried piece of his ear reverently.

"And what do you want me to do with it, Uncle Ben?" Custis asked
seriously.

"Nuttin right now, sah. But I ain't got long ter live--"

"Oh, you'll be well in a few days, Uncle Ben."

"I mought an' den agin I moughtent. I been lyin' awake at night worryin'
'bout dat year o' mine. Ye see hit wouldn't do tall fur me ter go
walkin' dem golden streets up dar in Heben wid one o' my years lopped
off lake a shoat er a calf dat's been branded. Some o' dem niggers
standin' on dat gol' sidewalk would laugh at me. An' dat would hurt my
feelin's. Some smart Aleck would be sho ter holler, 'Dar come ole Ben.
But he ain't got but one year!' Dat wouldn't do, tall, sah."

Phil bit his lips to keep from laughing. He saw the thing was no joke
for the old man. It was a grim tragedy.

"What I wants ter axe, Marse Custis, is dat you promise me faithful, ez
my young master, dat when I die you come to me, get dis year o' mine