About this time, one Mr. Theyagaraja Mudalyar, a supervisor in the Public Works Department, an English scholar and a good Sanskrit and Telugu poet, arrived at our place on his periodical tour of inspection.  Having heard about the aforesaid astrologer, he wanted to test him in a manner, most satisfactory to himself.  One morning handing to the astrologer a very indifferently gummed envelope, he said, “Here, Sir, take this letter home with you and come back to me with your copy in the afternoon.”  This loose way of closing the envelope, and the permission given to the astrologer to take it home for several hours, surprised the Brahman, who said, “I don’t want to go home.  Seal the cover better, and give me the use of some room here.  I shall be ready with my copy very soon.”  “No,” said the Mudalyar, “take it as it is, and come back whenever you like.  I have the means of finding out the deception, if any be practiced.”

So then the astrologer went with the envelope; and returned to the Mudalyar’s place in the afternoon.  Myself and about twenty others were present there by appointment.  The astrologer then carefully handed the cover to the Mudalyar, desiring him to see if it was all right.  “Don’t mind that,” the Mudalyar answered; “I can find out the trick, if there be any.  Produce your copy.”  The astrologer thereupon presented to the Mudalyar a paper on which four lines were written and stated that this was a copy of the paper enclosed in the Mudalyar’s envelope.  Those four lines formed a portion of an antiquated poem.

The Mudalyar read the paper once, then read it over again.  Extreme satisfaction beamed over his countenance, and he sat mute for some seconds seemingly in utter astonishment.  But soon after, the expression of his face changing, he opened the envelope and threw the enclosure down, jocularly saying to the astrologer, “Here, Sir, is the original of which you have produced the copy.”

The paper lay upon the carpet, and was quite blank! not a word, nor a letter on its clean surface.

This was a sad disappointment to all his admirers; but to the astrologer himself, it was a real thunderbolt.  He picked up the paper pensively, examined it on both sides, then dashed it on the ground in a fury; and suddenly arising, exclaimed, “My Vidya* is a delusion, and I am a liar!”

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* Secret knowledge, magic.
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The subsequent behaviour of the poor man made us fear lest this great disappointment should drive him to commit some desperate act.  In fact he seemed determined to drown himself in the well, saying that he was dishonoured.  While we were trying to console him, the Mudalyar came forward, caught hold of his hands, and besought him to sit down and calmly listen to his explanation, assuring him that he was not a liar, and that his copy was perfectly accurate.  But the astrologer would not be satisfied; he supposed that all this was said simply to console him; and