To one choosing, or chosen for, the life Oman had elected, dwelling in utter solitude from year to year, two courses are open. If the physical in him predominates, he draws out of the nature around him all that is animal, savage, or untamed, gradually loses his powers of thought and articulation, finally, the very habits of man, becoming a creature wilder than the wild things themselves. But, if he be of the spiritual type, a dreamer or religious fanatic, he draws toward him the soul of Nature; his mind expands as his body dwindles; and it is said that strange psychical powers come to him. With Oman, in the beginning, it seemed doubtful which he was to become: beast or angel. Buddhism had not uprooted the passion and the animal instincts of his dual spirit; but it had at least opened his eyes to the spiritual life. For many months—two, or perhaps three years, even—the battle of the two forces raged within him. And probably it was the mere fact that he was able for so long a time to retain spiritual remembrance, that gave him victory in the end. At first his moods alternated. For days at a time he would sit wrapped in a state of impenetrable calm, meditating as Gautama had meditated. Then, without any warning, the brute in him would rise, and, driven by it, he would range through the mountain woods like a demon, climbing, goat-like, over crags and precipices, and performing feats of physical strength that were almost superhuman. Again, suddenly, in one breath, he would break into a tempest of tears and cries, and, flinging himself on the ground, wherever he happened to be, would lie there, shaken with sobs, till sheer exhaustion brought quiet. Reaction never failed him, however; and it was always the same. Quietly, like a numb, dazed creature, he would rise and drag himself back to the open summit and his cave, and there would sleep, for an uncalculated period. When he woke he ate; and, in the torpor that followed, the great calm would descend on him again.