Yes, they had been invited.
During his lifetime the deceased had written a number of excellent books, in which he proved, in glowing and beautiful language, the vanity of life. Needless to say, the books were bought and read with pleasure. Whatever may be said to the contrary, man likes what is beautiful.
His family was well provided for—even pessimism can achieve that.
The obituary feast was arranged on a large scale. The poor student had a good meal, such as he seldom had, and as he went home he thought, smiling good-humouredly:
"Well, even pessimism is useful at times."
[THE POET]
There was another case.
A man, thinking himself a poet, wrote verse. But for some reason it was poor verse, and the circumstance disconcerted him.
Walking in the street one day, he saw a whip lying in the road, lost by a cabman. An inspiration came to the poet, and the following image at once formed itself in his mind:—