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“𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑆𝑇𝑂𝐶𝐾 𝐷𝑁𝐴 𝑃𝑅𝑂𝐽𝐸𝐶𝑇” 𝐴𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑝𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑎 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑚 𝑜𝑓 𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎 𝑠𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑚𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐷𝑁𝐴 𝑜𝑓 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 50,000 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑠[Main Logotype (Dark Green) | EMA]( Dear Reader, If you’re thinking of investing in dividend stocks (or already have)… [Watch this first.]( You may have heard about how dividend stocks are in high demand during a bear market because of their іnсоmе potential… And the fact that they’re usually quality businesses that hold up better in uncertain times. I’m not disputing any of that… But hеrе’s the biggest рrоblеm with dividend stocks no one talks about… You often have to spend a ton of mоnеу upfront to be able to enjoy the dividends — which are typically months away at the earliest… Not to mention the fact that many “safe” dividend stocks lost mоnеу last year just like other stocks. That’s why I believe [THIS “іnstаnt іnсоme” method is a much better alternative in tоdау’s market](. - You can gеt іnсоmе payouts almost instantly — instead of waiting months… - You don’t have to spend any mоnеу upfront… - And you don’t even have to own a single stock! Тhе bеst part? It pays out almost 95％ of the time — even in bear markets. So before you put even a single penny towards dividend stocks… Make sure you [watch my short demo of this “іnstаnt іnсоmе” method first](. Keith Kaplan CEO, TradeSmith Mr. Jones, of the Manor Farm, had locked the hen-houses for the night, but was too drunk to remember to shut the popholes. With the ring of light from his lantern dancing from side to side, he lurched across the yard, kicked his boots at the back door, drew himself a last glass of beer from the barrel in the scullery, and made his way up to bed, w Mrs. Jones was already . As as the light in the bedroom went out t was a stirring and a fluttering through the farm buildings. Word had gone round during the day that old Major, the Middle White boar, had had a strange dream on the previous night and wished to communicate it to the other animals. It had been agreed that they should meet in the big barn as as Mr. Jones was safely out of the way. Old Major (so he was always ced, though the under which he had been exhibited was Willingdon Beauty) was so highly regarded on the farm that everyone was quite ready to an hour's sleep in to hear what he had to say. At one end of the big barn, on a sort of raised plat, Major was already ensconced on his bed of straw, under a lantern which hung from a beam. He was twelve years old and had lately grown rather stout, but he was still a majestic-looking pig, with a wise and benevolent appearance in spite of the f that his tushes had been cut. Before long the other animals began to arrive and make themselves comfortable after their different fashions. First came the three dogs, Bluebell, Jessie, and Pincher, and then the pigs, who settled down in the straw in front of the plat. The hens perched themselves on the window-sills, the pigeons fluttered up to the rafters, the sheep and cows lay down behind the pigs and began to chew the cud. The two cart-horses, Boxer and Clover, came in toher, walking very slowly and setting down their vast hairy hoofs with care lest t should be some sm animal concealed in the straw. Clover was a stout motherly mare approaching middle , who had quite got her figure back after her fourth foal. Boxer was an enormous beast, nearly eighteen hands high, and as strong as any two ordinary horses put toher. A white stripe down his nose gave him a somewhat stupid appearance, and in f he was not of first- intelligence, but he was universy respected for his steadiness of charer and tremendous powers of work. After the horses came Muriel, the white goat, and Benjamin, the donkey. Benjamin was the oldest animal on the farm, and the worst tempered. He seldom talked, and when he did, it was usuy to make some cynical remark–for instance, he would say that God had given him a tail to keep the flies , but that he would er have had no tail and no flies. Alone among the animals on the farm he laughed. If asked why, he would say that he saw nothing to laugh at. theless, without ly admitting it, he was devoted to Boxer; the two of them usuy spent their Sundays toher in the sm paddock beyond the orchard, grazing side by side and speaking. The two horses had just lain down when a brood of ducklings, which had lost their mother, filed into the barn, cheeping feebly and wandering from side to side to find some place w they would not be trodden on. Clover made a sort of w round them with her foreleg, and the ducklings nestled down inside it and promptly fell asleep. At the last moment Mollie, the foolish, pretty white mare who drew Mr. Jones's trap, came mincing daintily in, chewing at a lump of sugar. She took a place near the front and began flirting her white mane, hoping to draw attention to the red ribbons it was plaited with. Last of came the cat, who looked round, as usual, for the warmest place, and finy squeezed herself in between Boxer and Clover; t she purred contentedly throughout Major's speech without listening to a word of what he was saying. the animals were present except Moses, the tame raven, who slept on a perch behind the back door. When Major saw that they had made themselves comfortable and were waiting attentively, he cleared his throat and began: Comrades, you have heard already about the strange dream that I had last night. But I will come to the dream later. I have something else to say first. I do not think, comrades, that I sh be with you for many months longer, and before I die, I feel it my duty to pass on to you such wisdom as I have acquired. I have had a long , I have had much time for thought as I lay alone in my st, and I think I may say that I understand the nature of on this earth as well as any animal living. It is about this that I wish to speak to you. , comrades, what is the nature of this of ours? Let us face it: our lives are miserable, laborious, and short. We are born, we are given just so much food as will keep the breath in our bodies, and those of us who are capable of it are forced to work to the last atom of our strength; and the very that our usefulness has come to an end we are slaughtered with hideous cruelty. No animal in England ks the meaning of happiness or leisure after he is a year old. No animal in England is . The of an animal is misery and slavery: that is the plain truth. But is this simply part of the of nature? Is it because this land of ours is so poor that it cannot afford a decent to those who dwell upon it? No, comrades, a thousand times no! The soil of England is fertile, its climate is good, it is capable of affording food in abundance to an enormously er number of animals than inhabit it. This single farm of ours would support a dozen horses, twenty cows, hundreds of sheep–and of them living in a comfort and a dignity that are almost beyond our imagining. Why then do we continue in this miserable condition? Because nearly the whole of the produce of our labour is stolen from us by beings. T, comrades, is the answer to our s. It is summed up in a single word–Man. Man is the real enemy we have. Man from the scene, and the root cause of hunger and overwork is abolished for ever. Man is the creature that consumes without producing. He does not give milk, he does not lay eggs, he is too weak to pull the plough, he cannot run enough to catch rabbits. Yet he is lord of the animals. He sets them to work, he gives back to them the bare minimum that will prevent them from starving, and the rest he keeps for himself. Our labour tills the soil, our dung fertilises it, and yet t is not one of us that owns more than his bare skin. You cows that I see before me, how many of gons of milk have you given during this last year? And what has happened to that milk which should have been breeding up sturdy calves? Every drop of it has gone down the throats of our enemies. And you hens, how many eggs have you laid in this last year, and how many of those eggs ever hatched into chickens? The rest have gone to market to bring in for Jones and his men. And you, Clover, w are those four foals you bore, who should have been the support and pleasure of your old age? Each was sold at a year old–you will see one of them again. In return for your four confinements and your labour in the fields, what have you ever had except your bare rations and a st? And even the miserable lives we lead are not owed to reach their natural span. For myself I do not grumble, for I am one of the lucky ones. I am twelve years old and have had over four hundred children. Such is the natural of a pig. But no animal escapes the cruel knife in the end. You young porkers who are sitting in front of me, every one of you will scream your lives out at the block within a year. To that horror we must come–cows, pigs, hens, sheep, everyone. Even the horses and the dogs have no better fate. You, Boxer, the very day that those muscles of yours their power, Jones will sell you to the knacker, who will cut your throat and boil you down for the foxhounds. As for the dogs, when they grow old and toothless, Jones ties a brick round their necks and drowns them in the nearest pond. Is it not crystal clear, then, comrades, that the evils of this of ours spring from the tyranny of beings? rid of Man, and the produce of our labour would be our own. Almost overnight we could become rich and . What then must we do? Why, work night and day, body and soul, for the overthrow of the race! That is my message to you, comrades: Rebellion! I do not k when that Rebellion will come, it might be in a week or in a hundred years, but I k, as surely as I see this straw beneath my feet, that er or later justice will be done. Fix your eyes on that, comrades, throughout the short remainder of your lives! And above , pass on this message of mine to those who come after you, so that future generations sh carry on the struggle until it is victorious. And remember, comrades, your re must falter. No argument must lead you astray. listen when they tell you that Man and the animals have a common interest, that the prosperity of the one is the prosperity of the others. It is lies. Man serves the interests of no creature except himself. And among us animals let t be unity, comradeship in the struggle. men are enemies. animals are comrades. At this moment t was a tremendous uproar. While Major was speaking four large rats had crept out of their holes and were sitting on their hindquarters, listening to him. The dogs had suddenly caught sight of them, and it was by a swift dash for their holes that the rats d their lives. Major raised his trotter for silence. Comrades, he said, is a point that must be settled. The wild creatures, such as rats and rabbits–are they our s or our enemies? Let us put it to the vote. I propose this question to the meeting: Are rats comrades? The vote was taken at once, and it was agreed by an overwhelming majority that rats were comrades. T were four dissentients, the three dogs and the cat, who was afterwards discovered to have voted on both sides. Major continued: Some of the animals talked of the duty of loyalty to Mr. Jones, whom they referred to as Master, or made elementary remarks such as Mr. Jones feeds us. If he were gone, we should starve to death. Others asked such questions as Why should we care what happens after we are dead? or If this Rebellion is to happen anyway, what difference does it make whether we work for it or not?, and the pigs had difficulty in making them see that this was contrary to the spirit of Animalism. The stupidest questions of were asked by Mollie, the white mare. The very first question she asked Sb was: Will t still be sugar after the Rebellion? [Small logotype (EMA)]( ExpertModernAdvice.com is sending this newsletter on behalf Inception Media Group. ІMG appreciates your comments and inquiries. Please keep in mind, that Inception Media Group are not permitted to provide іndivіdualіzed financial advіse. This email is not fіnаncіаl аdvіcе and any іnvеstmеnt decision you make is solely your responsibility. Feel frее to contact us toll frее Domestic/International: +17072979173 Mon–Fri, 9am–5pm ET, or email us support@expertmodernadvice.com. [Unsubscrіbe]( to stop receiving mаrkеtіng communication from us. 312 W 2nd St Casper, WY 82601 2023 IMG Group. AІІ rights reserved [Unsubscrіbe]( The pigs had an even harder struggle to counter the lies put about by Moses, the tame raven. Moses, who was Mr. Jones's especial pet, was a spy and a tale-bearer, but he was also a clever talker. He claimed to k of the existence of a mysterious country ced Sugarcandy Mountain, to which animals went when they died. It was situated somew up in the sky, a little distance beyond the clouds, Moses said. In Sugarcandy Mountain it was Sunday seven days a week, clover was in season the year round, and lump sugar and linseed cake grew on the hedges. The animals hated Moses because he told tales and did no work, but some of them believed in Sugarcandy Mountain, and the pigs had to argue very hard to persuade them that t was no such place. Their most faithful disciples were the two cart-horses, Boxer and Clover. These two had difficulty in thinking anything out for themselves, but having once accepted the pigs as their teachers, they absorbed everything that they were told, and passed it on to the other animals by simple arguments. They were unfailing in their attendance at the secret meetings in the barn, and led the singing of Beasts of England, with which the meetings always ended. , as it turned out, the Rebellion was achieved much earlier and more easily than anyone had expected. In past years Mr. Jones, although a hard master, had been a capable farmer, but of late he had fen on evil days. He had become much disheartened after losing in a lawsuit, and had taken to drinking more than was good for him. For whole days at a time he would lounge in his Windsor chair in the kitchen, reading the spapers, drinking, and occasiony feeding Moses on crusts of bread soaked in beer. His men were idle and dishonest, the fields were full of weeds, the buildings wanted roofing, the hedges were neglected, and the animals were underfed. June came and the hay was almost ready for cutting. On Midsummer's Eve, which was a Saturday, Mr. Jones went into Willingdon and got so drunk at the Red Lion that he did not come back till midday on Sunday. The men had milked the cows in the early morning and then had gone out rabbiting, without bothering to feed the animals. When Mr. Jones got back he went to sleep on the drawing-room sofa with the s of the World over his face, so that when evening came, the animals were still unfed. At last they could stand it no longer. One of the cows broke in the door of the store-shed with her horn and the animals began to help themselves from the bins. It was just then that Mr. Jones woke up. The next moment he and his four men were in the store-shed with whips in their hands, lashing out in directions. This was more than the hungry animals could bear. With one accord, though nothing of the kind had been planned beforehand, they flung themselves upon their tormentors. Jones and his men suddenly found themselves being butted and kicked from sides. The situation was quite out of their control. They had seen animals behave like this before, and this sudden uprising of creatures whom they were used to thrashing and maltreating just as they chose, frightened them almost out of their wits. After a moment or two they gave up trying to defend themselves and took to their heels. A minute later five of them were in full flight down the cart-track that led to the main road, with the animals pursuing them in triumph. Mrs. Jones looked out of the bedroom window, saw what was happening, hurriedly flung a few possessions into a carpet bag, and slipped out of the farm by another way. Moses sprang his perch and flapped after her, croaking loudly. Meanwhile the animals had chased Jones and his men out on to the road and slammed the five-barred gate behind them. And so, almost before they k what was happening, the Rebellion had been sfully carried through: Jones was expelled, and the Manor Farm was theirs. For the first few minutes the animals could hardly believe in their good fortune. Their first was to gop in a body right round the boundaries of the farm, as though to make quite sure that no being was hiding anyw upon it; then they raced back to the farm buildings to wipe out the last traces of Jones's hated reign. The harness-room at the end of the stables was broken ; the bits, the nose-rings, the dog-chains, the cruel knives with which Mr. Jones had been used to cast the pigs and lambs, were flung down the well. The reins, the halters, the blinkers, the degrading nosebags, were thrown on to the rubbish fire which was burning in the yard. So were the whips. the animals capered with joy when they saw the whips going up in flames. Sb also threw on to the fire the ribbons with which the horses' manes and tails had usuy been decod on market days. Ribbons, he said, should be considered as clothes, which are the mark of a being. animals should go naked. When Boxer heard this he fetched the sm straw hat which he wore in summer to keep the flies out of his ears, and flung it on to the fire with the rest. In a very little while the animals had destroyed everything that reminded them of Mr. Jones. Napoleon then led them back to the store-shed and served out a double ration of corn to everybody, with two biscuits for each dog. Then they sang Beasts of England from end to end seven times running, and after that they settled down for the night and slept as they had slept before. But they woke at dawn as usual, and suddenly remembering the glorious thing that had happened, they raced out into the pasture toher. A little way down the pasture t was a knoll that commanded a view of most of the farm. The animals rushed to the top of it and gazed round them in the clear morning light. Yes, it was theirs–everything that they could see was theirs! In the ecstasy of that thought they gambolled round and round, they hurled themselves into the air in leaps of excitement. They rolled in the dew, they cropped mouthfuls of the sweet summer grass, they kicked up clods of the black earth and snuffed its rich scent. Then they made a tour of inspection of the whole farm and surveyed with speechless admiration the ploughland, the hayfield, the orchard, the pool, the spinney. It was as though they had seen these things before, and even they could hardly believe that it was their own. Then they filed back to the farm buildings and halted in silence outside the door of the farmhouse. That was theirs too, but they were frightened to go inside. After a moment, however, Sb and Napoleon butted the door with their shoulders and the animals entered in single file, walking with the utmost care for fear of disturbing anything. They tiptoed from room to room, afraid to speak above a whisper and gazing with a kind of awe at the , at the beds with their feather mattresses, the looking-glasses, the horsehair sofa, the Brussels carpet, the lithograph of Queen Victoria over the drawing-room mantelpiece. They were lust coming down the stairs when Mollie was discovered to be missing. Going back, the others found that she had remained behind in bedroom. She had taken a piece of blue ribbon from Mrs. Jones's dressing-table, and was holding it against her shoulder and admiring herself in the glass in a very foolish manner. The others reproached her sharply, and they went outside. Some hams hanging in the kitchen were taken out for burial, and the barrel of beer in the scullery was stove in with a kick from Boxer's hoof,–otherwise nothing in the house was touched. A unanimous re was passed on the spot that the farmhouse should be preserved as a museum. were agreed that no animal must ever live t. The animals had their break, and then Sb and Napoleon ced them toher again. Comrades, said Sb, it is half-past six and we have a long day before us. we begin the hay harvest. But t is another matter that must be attended to first. The pigs revealed that during the past three months they had taught themselves to read and write from an old spelling book which had belonged to Mr. Jones's children and which had been thrown on the rubbish heap. Napoleon sent for pots of black and white paint and led the way down to the five-barred gate that gave on to the main road. Then Sb (for it was Sb who was best at writing) took a brush between the two knuckles of his trotter, painted out MANOR FARM from the top bar of the gate and in its place painted ANIMAL FARM. This was to be the of the farm from onwards. After this they went back to the farm buildings, w Sb and Napoleon sent for a ladder which they caused to be set against the end w of the big barn. They explained that by their studies of the past three months the pigs had succeeded in reducing the principles of Animalism to Seven Commandments. These Seven Commandments would be inscribed on the w; they would an unalterable law by which the animals on Animal Farm must live for ever after. With some difficulty (for it is not easy for a pig to balance himself on a ladder) Sb climbed up and set to work, with Squealer a few rungs below him holding the paint-pot. The Commandments were written on the tarred w in white letters that could be read thirty yards away. They ran thus: It was very neatly written, and except that was written freind and one of the S's was the wrong way round, the spelling was correct the way through. Sb read it aloud for the benefit of the others. the animals nodded in complete agreement, and the cleverer ones at once began to learn the Commandments by heart. , comrades, cried Sb, throwing down the paint-brush, to the hayfield! Let us make it a point of honour to in the harvest more quickly than Jones and his men could do. But at this moment the three cows, who had seemed uneasy for some time past, set up a loud lowing. They had not been milked for twenty-four hours, and their udders were almost bursting. After a little thought, the pigs sent for buckets and milked the cows fairly sfully, their trotters being well adapted to this task. t were five buckets of frothing creamy milk at which many of the animals looked with considerable interest. What is going to happen to that milk? said someone. Jones used sometimes to mix some of it in our mash, said one of the hens. mind the milk, comrades! cried Napoleon, placing himself in front of the buckets. That will be attended to. The harvest is more important. Comrade Sb will lead the way. I sh follow in a few minutes. Forward, comrades! The hay is waiting. So the animals trooped down to the hayfield to begin the harvest, and when they came back in the evening it was noticed that the milk had disappeared. How they toiled and sweated to the hay in! But their efforts were rewarded, for the harvest was an even bigger s than they had hoped. Sometimes the work was hard; the implements had been designed for beings and not for animals, and it was a drawback that no animal was able to use any tool that involved standing on his hind legs. But the pigs were so clever that they could think of a way round every difficulty. As for the horses, they k every inch of the field, and in f understood the business of mowing and raking far better than Jones and his men had ever done. The pigs did not uy work, but directed and supervised the others. With their superior kledge it was natural that they should assume the leadership. Boxer and Clover would harness themselves to the cutter or the horse-rake (no bits or reins were needed in these days, of course) and tramp steadily round and round the field with a pig walking behind and cing out Gee up, comrade! or Whoa back, comrade! as the case might be. And every animal down to the humblest worked at turning the hay and gathering it. Even the ducks and hens toiled to and fro day in the sun, carrying tiny wisps of hay in their beaks. In the end they finished the harvest in two days' less time than it had usuy taken Jones and his men. Moreover, it was the biggest harvest that the farm had ever seen. T was no wastage whatever; the hens and ducks with their sharp eyes had gatd up the very last stalk. And not an animal on the farm had stolen so much as a mouthful. through that summer the work of the farm went like clockwork. The animals were happy as they had conceived it possible to be. Every mouthful of food was an acute positive pleasure, that it was truly their own food, produced by themselves and for themselves, not doled out to them by a grudging master. With the worthless parasitical beings gone, t was more for everyone to eat. T was more leisure too, inexperienced though the animals were. They met with many difficulties–for instance, later in the year, when they harvested the corn, they had to tread it out in the ancient style and blow away the chaff with their breath, since the farm possessed no threshing machine–but the pigs with their cleverness and Boxer with his tremendous muscles always pulled them through. Boxer was the admiration of everybody. He had been a hard worker even in Jones's time, but he seemed more like three horses than one; t were days when the entire work of the farm seemed to rest on his mighty shoulders. From morning to night he was pushing and pulling, always at the spot w the work was hardest. He had made an arrangement with one of the cockerels to c him in the mornings half an hour earlier than anyone else, and would put in some volunteer labour at whatever seemed to be most needed, before the regular day's work began. His answer to every , every setback, was I will work harder!–which he had adopted as his personal motto. But everyone worked according to his capacity The hens and ducks, for instance, d five bushels of corn at the harvest by gathering up the stray grains. Nobody stole, nobody grumbled over his rations, the quarrelling and biting and jealousy which had been normal features of in the old days had almost disappeared. Nobody shirked–or almost nobody. Mollie, it was true, was not good at ting up in the mornings, and had a way of leaving work early on the ground that t was a stone in her hoof. And the behaviour of the cat was somewhat peculiar. It was noticed that when t was work to be done the cat could be found. She would vanish for hours on end, and then reappear at meal-times, or in the evening after work was over, as though nothing had happened. But she always made such excellent excuses, and purred so affectionately, that it was impossible not to believe in her good intentions. Old Benjamin, the donkey, seemed quite unchanged since the Rebellion. He did his work in the same slow obstinate way as he had done it in Jones's time, shirking and volunteering for work either. About the Rebellion and its results he would express no opinion. When asked whether he was not happier that Jones was gone, he would say Donkeys live a long time. None of you has ever seen a dead donkey, and the others had to be content with this cryptic answer. On Sundays t was no work. Break was an hour later than usual, and after break t was a ceremony which was observed every week without fail. First came the hoisting of the flag. Sb had found in the harness-room an old green tablecloth of Mrs. Jones's and had painted on it a hoof and a horn in white. This was run up the flagstaff in the farmhouse garden every Sunday morning. The flag was green, Sb explained, to represent the green fields of England, while the hoof and horn signified the future Republic of the Animals which would arise when the race had been finy overthrown. After the hoisting of the flag the animals trooped into the big barn for a general assembly which was kn as the Meeting. the work of the coming week was planned out and res were put forward and debated. It was always the pigs who put forward the res. The other animals understood how to vote, but could think of any res of their own. Sb and Napoleon were by far the most ive in the debates. But it was noticed that these two were in agreement: whatever suggestion either of them made, the other could be counted on to oppose it. Even when it was resolved–a thing no one could object to in itself–to set aside the sm paddock behind the orchard as a of rest for animals who were past work, t was a stormy debate over the correct retiring age for each class of animal. The Meeting always ended with the singing of Beasts of England, and the afternoon was given up to recreation. The pigs had set aside the harness-room as a headquarters for themselves. , in the evenings, they studied blacksmithing, carpentering, and other necessary arts from books which they had brought out of the farmhouse. Sb also busied himself with organising the other animals into what he ced Animal Committees. He was indefatigable at this. He ed the Egg Production Committee for the hens, the Clean Tails League for the cows, the Wild Comrades' Re-education Committee (the object of this was to tame the rats and rabbits), the Whiter Wool Movement for the sheep, and various others, besides instituting classes in reading and writing. On the whole, these projects were a failure. The attempt to tame the wild creatures, for instance, broke down almost . They continued to behave very much as before, and when treated with generosity, simply took advantage of it. The cat joined the Re-education Committee and was very ive in it for some days. She was seen one day sitting on a roof and talking to some sparrows who were just out of her reach. She was telling them that animals were comrades and that any sparrow who chose could come and perch on her paw; but the sparrows kept their distance.