Some students of biology planned a trick on their professor. They took the head of one beetle, the body of another of a totally different species, the wings of a third, the legs of a fourth. These members they carefully pasted together. Then they asked the professor what kind of bug the creature was. He answered promptly, "A humbug." Just such a monstrosity is trouble—especially future trouble. Some things about it are real, but the whole combined menace is only an illusion, not a thing which actually exists at all. Face the trouble itself; give no heed to that idea of it which invests it with a hundred dire calamities.

Trouble in the distance seems all-fired big—
Sorter makes you shiver when you look at it a-comin';
Makes you wanter edge aside, er hide, er take a swig
Of somethin' that is sure to set your worried head a-hummin'.
Trouble in the distance is a mighty skeery feller—
But wait until it reaches you afore you start to beller!

Trouble standin' in th' road and frownin' at you, black,
Makes you feel like takin' to the weeds along the way;
Wish to goodness you could turn and hump yerself straight back;
Know 'twill be awful when he gets you close at bay!
Trouble standin' in the road is bound to make you shy—
But wait until it reaches you afore you start to cry!

Trouble face to face with you ain't pleasant, but you'll find
That it ain't one-ha'f as big as fust it seemed to be;
Stand up straight and bluff it out! Say, "I gotter a mind
To shake my fist and skeer you off—you don't belong ter me!"
Trouble face to face with you? Though you mayn't feel gay,
Laugh at it as if you wuz—and it'll sneak away!

Everard Jack Appleton.

From "The Quiet Courage."