A Cold Greeting - Ambrose Bierce

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1:00Real quick, if any of these sound familiar, there's something you can do right now. Craving something sweet after every meal, hungry again, an hour after you eat, weight won't budge, no matter how disciplined you are. These are all signs that your body isn't producing enough GLP-1. The hormone that keeps you full and supports weight loss. The good news? BiomeGLP-1 booster helps you increase its natural production, so you can quiet the food noise and enjoy smoother weight management when following a healthy lifestyle. Head to biome.health slash GLP-1 and use code podcast to get 15% off. A cold greeting by Ambrose Beers. This is a story told to me by the late Benson Foley of San Francisco. In the summer of 1881, I met a man named James H. Conway, a resident of Franklin, Tennessee. He was visiting San Francisco for his health, deluded man, and brought me a note of

2:02introduction from Mr. Lawrence's barting. I had known barting as a captain in the federal army during the Civil War. At its close, he had settled in Franklin, and in time became, I had reason to think, somewhat prominent as a lawyer. Barting had always seemed to me an honorable and truthful man, and the warm friendship which he expressed in his note for Mr. Conway was to me sufficient evidence that the latter was in every way worthy of my confidence and esteem. At dinner one day, Conway told me that it had been solemnly agreed between him and Barting that the one who died first should, if possible, communicate with the other from beyond the grave, and some unmistakable way. Just how they had left, wisely it seemed to me, to be decided by the deceased, according to the opportunities that his altered circumstances might present. A few weeks after the conversation in

3:05which Mr. Conway spoke of this agreement, I met him one day walking slowly down Montgomery Street, apparently from his abstract air in deep thought. He greeted me coldly with merely a movement of the head and passed on, leaving me standing on the sidewalk with half-preferred hand, surprised and naturally somewhat perqued. The next day I met him again in the office of the palace hotel, and seeing him about to repeat the disagreeable performance of the day before, intercepted him in the doorway with a friendly salutation and bluntly requested an explanation of his altered manner. He hesitated a moment, and then looking at me frankly in the eyes said, I do not thank Mr. Foley that I have any longer acclaimed to your friendship, since Mr. Barting appears to have withdrawn his own from me, for what reason I protest I do not know. If he has not already informed you, he probably will do so. But I replied, I have not heard from Mr.

4:11Barting. Not heard from him, he replied, with a parent's surprise, while he is here. I met him yesterday ten minutes before meeting you. I gave you exactly the same greeting that he gave me. I met him again not a quarter of an hour ago, and his minor was precisely the same. He merely bowed and passed on. I shall not soon forget your civility to me. Good morning, or as it may please you, farewell. All this seemed to me, singularly considerate and delicate behavior on the part of Mr. Conway. As dramatic situations and literary effects are foreign to my purpose, I will explain at once that Mr. Barting was dead. He had died in Nashville four days before this conversation. Calling on Mr. Conway, I appraised him of our friend's death, showing him the letters announcing it. He was visibly affected in a way that forbade me to entertain a doubt of his sincerity.

5:18It seems incredible, he said, after a period of reflection, I suppose I must have mistaken another man for Barting, and that man's cold greeting was merely a stranger's civil acknowledgement of my own. I remember indeed that he lacked Barting's mustache. Doubless it was another man, I ascended, and the subject was never afterward mentioned between us. But I had in my pocket a photograph of Barting, which had been enclosed in the letter from his widow. It had been taken a week before his death and was without a mustache. End of a Cold Greeting by Ambrose Beers