The morning of the 29th of November, 1847, was a dark, dreary day. When
I came downstairs I went into the kitchen where Dr. Whitman was sitting
by the cookstove broiling steak for breakfast. I went and put my arms
around his neck and kissed him and said, "Good morning, father," as we
were taught to greet older persons with all politeness; also to say
"Good night" to all as we retired. I continued, "I have had such a bad
dream and I woke frightened."