It was the intention of the Master to stop at the first house he came to—in this instance a building whose blue walls shone out from between the trees of the surrounding garden. As he was about to approach the door, however, he became aware of a net hung upon a branch. And without a moment's hesitation the Lord Buddha strode past, abhorring the house of the fowler. Here, at the extreme outskirts of the town, the houses were scattered, in addition to which a conflagration had recently swept the place, so that some time elapsed before he came to another human habitation. It was the farmhouse of a well-to-do Brahman. The Master had hardly stepped within the gate, when he heard the loud screaming voices of the Brahman's two wives as they scolded and wrangled, all the while hurling invectives at one another. And the Blessed One turned him about, went out at the gateway, and strode farther on.

The pleasure garden of the rich Brahman extended for a considerable distance along the road. The Master was already conscious of fatigue, and his right foot, injured by a sharp stone, pained him as he paced along. In this condition he approached the next dwelling-house, which was visible from a great distance owing to a broad path of vivid light that streamed across the road from the latticework of the shutters and from the open door. Even had a blind man come that way, he could not have failed to notice this house, for wanton laughter, the clang of goblets, the clapping of hands, the beat of dancing feet, and the delightfully merry notes of the seven-stringed vina rose clearly upon the air. Leaning against the doorpost stood a handsome girl, robed in rich silk, and hung with jasmine garlands. Laughingly showing her teeth, red from chewing the betel-nut, she invited the wayfarer to stay: "Enter, O stranger. This is the House of Mirth." But the Blessed One went on his way, and as he did so he recalled his own words: "As weeping, in the Order of the Holy, shall singing be looked on; as madness, in the Order of the Holy, shall dancing be looked on; as childish, in the Order of the Holy, shall unseemly showing of teeth, shall laughter, be looked on. All-sufficing, for ye who in truth are enraptured, be the smile of the smiling eyes."

The neighbouring house was not far distant, but the noise of the carousers and vina-players penetrated thither, so the Lord Buddha went on to the next. Beside it two butcher's assistants were hard at work by the last glimmer of daylight, cutting up with sharp knives a cow they had just slaughtered. And the Master strode past the house of the butcher.

In front of the one following, stood many dishes and bowls freshly formed from clay, the fruit of a diligent day's labour. The potter's wheel stood under a tamarind tree, and the potter at that moment removed a dish from the wheel and bore it to where the others lay.

The Master approached the potter, greeted him courteously, and said: "If it be not inconvenient to, thee, O descendant of Bhaga, I shall spend this night in thy hall."

"It is not, O sir, inconvenient to me. But this moment, a pilgrim has arrived, tired from a long journey, and he has already taken up his quarters for the night. If it be agreeable to him, thou art welcome to stay, O sir, at thine own pleasure."

And the Master reflected: "Solitude is, it is true, the best of all companions. But this good pilgrim has arrived here late, just as I myself, tired from long wandering. And he has gone by the houses where men follow impure and bloody pursuits, past the house of wrangling and of odious strife, the house of clamour and of unworthy pleasure, and has not rested till he entered the house of the potter. In the company of such a man it is possible to spend the night."

So the Lord Buddha entered the outer hall, where he perceived a young man of noble lineaments sitting in a corner on a mat.

"If it be not disagreeable to thee, O pilgrim," said the Master to him, "I shall spend the night in this outer hall."

"Spacious, O brother, is the hall of the potter; stay then, O venerable sir, at thy pleasure."

Upon which the Master spread his mat close to one of the walls and sat down, his legs crossed, his body perfectly upright, sunk in holy meditation. And the Blessed One remained sitting during the first part of the night.

The young man also remained sitting during the first part of the night.

Seeing which, the Lord Buddha thought to himself: "I wonder whether this noble youth is a happy seeker after truth. How would it be if I should ask him?"

So he turned him to the young pilgrim—

"Wherefore, O pilgrim, hast thou become homeless?"

The young pilgrim answered—

"But few hours of the night are as yet gone. So that, if thou, venerable sir, wilt deign to give ear, I shall tell thee wherefore I have chosen the portion of the homeless."

The Blessed One gave assent by a friendly movement of his head, and the young pilgrim began his tale.