blown hither and thither, picking up and fascinated by new ideas,
which they did not know how to fit in with their old ones, he seemed
to have already formed for himself, at least in outline, a scheme of
philosophy and life coherent and complete. There was nothing random or
scattered in his ideas; his mind, like his style of writing, which ran
into long and complicated sentences, had a singular connectedness. You
felt that all its principles were in relation with one another. This
maturity in his mental attitude gave him an air of superiority, just
as the strength of his convictions gave a dogmatic quality to his
deliverances. Yet in spite of positiveness and tenacity he had the
saving grace of a humility which distrusted human nature in himself at
least as much as he distrusted it in others. Leading an introspective
life, he had many "wrestlings," and often seemed conscious of the
struggle between the natural man and the spiritual man, as described
in the Epistle to the Romans.

In these early days, before, and to a less extent after, taking his
degree, he used to speak a good deal, mostly on political topics, at
the University Debating Society, where so many generations of young
men have sharpened their wits upon one another. His speaking was
vigorous, shrewd, and full of matter, yet it could not be called
popular. It was, in a certain sense, too good for a debating society,
too serious, and without the dash and sparkle which tell upon
audiences of that kind. Sometimes, however, and notably in a debate
on the American War of Secession in 1863, he produced, by the
concentrated energy of his language and the fierce conviction with
which he spoke, a powerful effect.[18] In a business assembly,
discussing practical questions, he would soon have become prominent,
and would have been capable on occasions of an oratorical success.

Retired as was Green's life, he became by degrees more and more widely
known beyond the circle of his own intimates; and became also, I
think, more willing to make new friends. His truthfulness appeared in
this that, though powerful in argument, he did not argue for victory.
When he felt the force of what was urged against him, his admissions
were candid. Thus people came to respect his character, with its high
sense of duty, its simplicity, its uprightness, its earnest devotion
to an ideal, even more than they admired his intellectual powers. I
remember one friend of my own, himself eminent in