'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