A chop-box is
anything that holds food, and for food of every kind, for the hours
of feeding, and the verb "to feed," on the West Coast, the only
word, the "lazy" word, is "chop."
The absent-minded young missionary, with Fanny jammed between his
ankles, and looking out miserably upon the world, and two other
young missionaries, travelled second-class.
They were even more crowded together than were we, but not so much
with luggage as with humanity. But as a protest against the high
charges of the railroad the missionaries always travel in the open
car. These three young men were for the first time out of England,
and in any fashion were glad to start on their long journey up the
Congo to Bolobo. To them whatever happened was a joke. It was a joke
even when the colored "wife" of one of the French officers used the
broad shoulders of one of them as a pillow and slept sweetly. She
was a large, good-natured, good-looking mulatto, and at the frequent
stations the French officer ran back to her with "white man's chop,"
a tin of sausages, a pineapple, a bottle of beer. She drank the
beer from the bottle, and with religious tolerance offered it to the
Baptists. They assured her without the least regret that they were
teetotalers. To the other blacks in the open car the sight of a
white man waiting on one of their own people was a thrilling
spectacle. They regarded the woman who could command such services
with respect.
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