good qualities. He thinks that a friend's judgment is very good and
sound, and that he may well rely upon it; but for fear of showing
it too much regard, he probably shows it too little. He thinks that
in some dispute his friend is right; but for fear of being partial
he decides that his friend is wrong. It is obvious that in any
instance in which a man, seeking to avoid the primary error of
over-estimating his friend, falls into the secondary of under-estimating
him, he will (if any importance be attached to his judgment) damage
his friend's character; for most people will conclude that he is
saying of his friend the best that can be said; and that if even he
admits that there is so little to approve about his friend, there
must be very little indeed to approve: whereas the truth may be,
that he is saying the worst that can be said--that no man could
with justice give a worse picture of the friend's character.

Not very far removed from this pair of vulgar errors stand the
following:

The primary vulgar error is, to set up as an infallible oracle one
whom we regard as wise--to regard any question as settled finally
if we know what is his opinion upon it. You remember the man in the
Spectator who was always quoting the sayings of Mr. Nisby. There
was a report in London that the Grand Vizier was dead. The good
man was uncertain whether to believe the report or not. He went and
talked with Mr. Nisby and returned with his mind reassured. Now,
he enters in his diary that 'the Grand Vizier was certainly dead.'
Considering the weakness of the reasoning powers of many people,
there is something pleasing after all in this tendency to look
round for somebody stronger upon whom they may lean. It is wise
and natural in a scarlet-runner to climb up something, for it could