May 5, 1821
Dear Diary,
Stomach cancer is a terrible way to go. I guess trying to conquer Europe will do that to man. Sounds like it could’ve started with that exile though. Being that separated from the rest of the world would certainly give me a few ulcers, that’s for sure!
People are gonna think that it was arsenic poisoning that did the poor guy in. Well, I’m setting the record straight. It was indeed stomach cancer. You fools with your arsenic theories that you’ll come up with in 130 years or so are gonna look like total idiots. Seriously.
Anyway, that’s all for today, diary. I’ll write more tomorrow. There’s a convention of reapers in France in a few days. And you know what that means! Kegger! It’s my turn to make the beer. I think I’ll use an old Egyptian recipe that my teacher gave to me before he retired.
Til next time, diary.

P.S. I think Rosalin has started to notice me. I know I shouldn’t fraternize within the ranks, but I think she and I are perfect for each other. More on this later, k?