Pleasant day. I went to town and first to my House where I was very busily occupied in copying my letter to Mr. Hallett which he has never taken the least notice of. I feel very unwilling to push the matter against him, and yet see hardly any other alternative. He has driven so violently against a wall that there is no rescue for him and his act depresses those who have gone with him. If he perseveres in this plan of silence, I must publish in another form.

To the Office where I had visits from Mr. N. Curtis about the affairs of Mr. Boylston, and Mr. Sayer who is making my furniture. And I went about on commissions. Thus passed the morning. Home to Quincy.

Afternoon at the House as usual. Regretted deeply to hear of the death of a poor man here who in assisting the mason to set the last steps at my house last Friday trod upon a nail which went into his foot. He paid no attention to it and continued work until the day before yesterday when symptoms of lockjaw appeared, and he died today. There is something particularly unpleasant in accidents of this nature as connected with work upon a House and it would seem as if there had been many of them since my undertaking. I felt depressed by it although I had hardly seen the man and did not know he was employed there. Evening, the ladies went over to Mr. Beale’s, but came home shortly. Conversation.