And that twice-born Brahman of high lineage informed Siddhartha of the rules of the various teachers and of the fruits expected from their practices. He declared how some lived only on food proceeding from pure water, some subsisting on edible roots and tender twigs, others on fruits and flowers some, like deer, eating grass and herbs, others again begging their food and giving it in charity, keeping only the crumbs and remnants for themselves. Also he named those ascetics who torture the body in order to subdue it, those who let water drop continually on their heads—and many more, cunning in devising sufferings and cruel austerities, so that at the end of every life they may purchase birth in Heaven and taste divine tranquillities and pleasures before they are again launched into the dreary sea of mortal existence. “And thus,” he said, “are great joys attained, impossible to be described in words, delectable to the soul.” And the Prince heard with reverence, and the ascetics, men and women who dwelt in the woods and caves, seeing the beauty of his face and his serenity and courtesy were moved with wonder and admiration, saying—“Who is this most beautiful young man, so calm and noble? Surely he has the appearance of a great Prince and can be no other. Well is it when such forsake the world’s things for the things of the Gods.” And his master appointed a cave for his dwelling tapestried with nests of the wild black bees, and dripped about in one part with golden honey, but because the holy men were friendly to all creatures and disturbed none of their combs but only ate a little of the dripped honey, the bees were friendly also and pleasant companions, their myriad voices soothing to meditation as the sounds of a great ocean far off. Here dwelt Siddhartha joining in the strong chanting of Vedic hymns and hearing the recital of the Vedas and Upanishads, for books were none—the memories of men carrying all knowledge, and he learnt these things with a swiftness almost incredible, because his heart was in it. And when food was needed, clad in his yellow garment he took his begging bowl, and went down to the city begging from house to house, for he considered thus: “Full of hindrances is the household life; the haunt of passion. Free as air is the homeless state,” and all the luxuries of his former life seemed empty as a dream that flies at dawn. “Better is the alms of food I beg than the wines and fruits cooled in snow, the rich meats and costly of Kapila.” So he said night and day, though at first his soul loathed the food.