Next morning, Passe-partout, very tired and very hungry, began to think that he ought to eat something, and the sooner the better. He still had his watch, which he could sell, but he would rather die of hunger than do that; so now or never, he must make use of his powerful, if not melodious, voice, with which nature had endowed him. He knew several French and English songs, and resolved to make the attempt. The Japanese were no doubt fond of music, since they were always beating cymbals, tomtoms, and drums, and they would no doubt appreciate European talent. But perhaps it was somewhat early to start a concert, and the _dilettanti_, awakened inopportunely, would not, perhaps, pay him in current coin of the realm. So Passe-partout decided to wait; and meantime it occurred to him that he might as well change his clothes for some more in keeping with his present position, and afterwards he might be able to purchase something to eat. He immediately set about to carry out the idea, and after a long search he discovered a dealer in old clothes, with whom he made an exchange, and left the shop dressed in a Japanese robe and discoloured turban; but he had some money in his pocket also. "All right," he thought; "I must only fancy myself at a carnival." Passe-partout's first care was to enter a quiet-looking tea-house, and then, with a portion of fowl and some rice, he breakfasted like a man who had not yet solved the problem as to where dinner was to come from. "Now," he thought, after a hearty meal, "I must consider what I am about. All I can do now is to sell this dress for another still more Japanesey. I must think of some means of quitting this Country of the Sun as quickly as possible, and I shall not have a very pleasant recollection of it." He accordingly went to look at the steamers about to sail to America, for he intended to offer himself as a cook or steward, in exchange for his passage and food. Once at San Francisco he would manage to get on. The important thing was to cross the ocean. He was not the man to think about a thing very long, so he went at once to the docks; but his project, which had appeared so simple in idea, was not so easy to execute. What need was there for a cook or steward on board an American mail-boat? And how could they trust him in his present costume? What reference or recommendation could he offer? As he was turning these questions over in his mind his gaze fell upon a placard, which a circus clown was carrying through the streets. The notice was in English, and read as follows: THE HONOURABLE WILLIAM BATULCAR'S TROUPE OF JAPANESE ACROBATS. POSITIVELY THE LAST REPRESENTATIONS, PRIOR TO THEIR DEPARTURE FOR AMERICA, OF THE LONG - NOSES - LONG - NOSES. _Under the Special Patronage of the God Tingou._ GREAT ATTRACTION! "The United States of America!" exclaimed Passe-partout; "that suits me all round."