Magick Without Tears

'EAR 383 Let me tell you how it worked in those early Air Raids on ,ondon. First, I looked at the question sensibly, taking the iew that shelters and gas masks were soothing syrup with an lement of booby-trap in it. Let me tell you a fable from the East. It is one of those lcomparably sublime blossoms of the Spirit of Islam, Ilfinite depth of wisdom adorned with the most exquisite nd delicate wit. Isaak ben Hiddekel was a Jew of Baghdad. Though not in Lis first or even second youth, he was in such health, enjoyed uch prosperity, and commanded such universal respect and levotion that every moment of his life was dear to him. lmong his pleasures one of the chief was the friendship of he aged Mohammed ibn Mahmed of Bassorah, reputed a sage f no common stature, for (it was said) his piety had been ewarded with such gifts as the power to communicate with U'changels, angels, the Jinn, and even with Gabriel himself. Iowever this may have been, he held Isaak in very great steem and affection. It was shortly after leaving his friend's house after a short isit to Baghdad that he met Death. "Good morning," said he saint. "I do hope you're not going to Isaak's, he is a very lear friend of mine." "No," said Death, "not just now; but ince you mention it, I shall be with him at noonrise on the hirteenth of next month. Sorry he's a friend of yours; but to one knows better than you do that these things can't be telped." Mohammed set off sadly for Bassorah. Indeed, as the days 'assed, the incident preyed upon his mind, until at last he esolved to risk the breach of professional confidence and V'arn his friend. He sent accordingly a letter of condolence nd farewell. But Isaak was a man of action. Prompt and stealthy, on he day appointed he saddled his best horse and so passed hrough the silent streets of the city in search of a refuge. That evening Mohammed was returning from prayer No wit