The next morning poor, jaded, famished Passepartout said to himself that he must get something to eat at all hazards, and the sooner he did so the better. He might, indeed, sell his watch; but he would have starved first. Now or never he must use the strong, if not melodious voice which nature had bestowed upon him. He knew several French and English songs, and resolved to try them upon the Japanese, who must be lovers of music, since they were for ever pounding on their cymbals, tam-tams, and tambourines, and could not but appreciate European talent.

It was, perhaps, rather early in the morning to get up a concert, and the audience, prematurely aroused from their slumbers, might not, possibly pay their entertainer with coin bearing the Mikado's features. Passepartout therefore decided to wait several hours; and, as he was sauntering along, it occurred to him that he would seem rather too well dressed for a wandering artist. The idea struck him to change his garments for clothes more in harmony with his project; by which he might also get a little money to satisfy the immediate cravings of hunger. The resolution taken, it remained to carry it out.

It was only after a long search that Passepartout discovered a native dealer in old clothes. The man liked the European costume, and ere long Passepartout issued from his shop accoutered in an old Japanese coat, and a sort of one-sided turban, faded with long use. A few small pieces of silver, moreover, jingled in his pocket.

`Good!' thought he. `I will imagine I am at the Carnival!'

His first care, after being thus `Japanesed', was to enter a tea-house of modest aprformance.

Before three o'clock the large shed was invaded by the spectators, comprising Europeans and natives, Chinese and Japanese, men, women and children, who precipitated themselves upon the narrow benches and into the boxes opposite the stage. The musicians took up a position inside, and were vigorously performing on their gongs, tam-tams, flutes, bones, tambourines, and immense drums.

The performance was ? àisit the steamers which were about to leave for America. He would offer himself as a cook or servant, in payment of his passage and meals. Once at San Francisco, he would find some means of going on. The difficulty was, how to traverse the four thousand seven hundred miles of the Pacific which lay between Japan and the New World.

Passepartout was not the man to let an idea go begging, and directed his steps towards the docks. But, as he approached them, his project, which at first had seemed so simple, began to grow more and more formidable to his mind. What need would they have of a cook or servant on an American steamer, and what confidence would they put in him, dressed as he was? What references could he give?

As he was reflecting in this wise, his eyes fell upon an immense placard which a sort of clown was carrying through the streets. This placard, which was in English, read as follows:--

`ACROBATIC JAPANESE TROUPE, HONOURABLE WILLIAM BATULCAR, PROPRIETOR, LAST REPRESENTATIONS, PRIOR TO THEIR DEPARTURE TO THE UNITED STATES, OF THE LONG NOSES! LONG NOSES! UNDER THE DIRECT PATRONAGE OF THE GOD TINGOU! GREAT ATTRACTION!'
`The United States!' said Passepartout; `that's just what I want!'
He followed the clown, and soon found himself once more in the Japanese quarter. A quarter of an hour later he stopped before a large cabin, adorned with several clusters of streamers, the exterior walls of which were designed to represent, in violent colours and without perspective, a company of jugglers.

This was the Honourable William Batulcar's establishment. That gentlemen was a sort of Barnum, the director of a troupe of mountebanks, jugglers, clowns, acrobats, equilibrists and gymnasts, who, according to the placard, was giving his last performances before leaving the Empire of the Sun for the States of the Union.

Passepartout entered and asked for Mr Batulcar, who straightaway appeared in person.

`What do you want?' said he to Passepartout, whom he at first took for a native.

`Would you like a servant, sir?' asked Passepartout.

`A servant!' cried Mr Batulcar, caressing the thick gray beard which hung from his chin. `I already have two who are obedient and faithful, have never left me, and serve me for their nourishment, - and here they are,' added he, holding out his two robust arms, furrowed with veins as large as the strings of a bass-viol.

`So I can be of no use to you?'

`None.'

`The devil! I should so like to cross the Pacific with you!'

`Ah!' said the Honourable Mr Batulcar. `You are no more a Japanese than I am a monkey! Why are you dressed up in that way?'

`A man dresses as he can.'

`That's true. You are a Frenchman, aren't you?'

`Yes; a Parisian of Paris.'

`Then you ought to know how to make grimaces?'

`Why?' replied Passepartout, a little vexed that his nationality should cause this question; `we Frenchmen know how to make grimaces, it is true, - but not any better than the Americans do.'

`True. Well, if I can't take you as a servant, I can as a clown. You see, my friend, in France they exhibit foreign clowns, and in foreign parts French clowns.'

`Ah!'

`You are pretty strong, eh?'

`Especially after a good meal.'

`And you can sing?'

`Yes,' returned Passepartout, who had formerly been wont to sing in the streets.

`But can you sing standing on your head, with a top spinning on your left foot, and a sabre balanced on your right?'

`Humph! I think so,' replied Passepartout, recalling the exercises of his younger days.

`Well, that's enough,' ............