ABSTRACT
Once upon a time there lived a mandarin in China. Sequestered in his palace his sleep was untroubled, even when a calamity befell a hundred million of his people. Destruction of that immense multitude held little interest for him; he snored “with the most profound security.” Then, late one evening his lapdog nipped him on his littlest finger. The court doctor came to minister to him and told him that if the injury grew worse over the night, he might well have to amputate the finger. Oh, how his sleep was disturbed then. The dull pain of the bite and the greater agony of wondering whether he would have to suffer the loss of his little finger kept him awake through all the dark hours.
