Warning: Your Bank Account at Risk 💸📉

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑈.𝑆. 𝑔𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑖𝑠𝑔𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑢𝑝 𝑡𝑜 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑠𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑦 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡. [Main logotype Expert Modern Advice](   Dear Reader, The U.S. government is gearing up to change how it controls the money in your bank account. This change may seem innocent at first... But when you look closer, the consequences can be frightening... [See what this disturbing change is here.]( Good luck and God bless! [𝑆𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 / 𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑛 𝐷.𝑊𝑒𝑖𝑠𝑠] He is dead, said Boxer sorrowfully. I had no intention of doing that. I forgot that I was wearing iron shoes. Who will believe that I did not do this on purpose? No sentimentality, comrade! cried Sb from whose wounds the blood was still dripping. War is war. The good being is a dead one. I have no wish to take , not even , repeated Boxer, and his eyes were full of tears. W is Mollie? exclaimed somebody. Mollie in f was missing. For a moment t was alarm; it was feared that the men might have harmed her in some way, or even carried her with them. In the end, however, she was found hiding in her st with her head buried among the hay in the manger. She had taken to flight as as the gun went . And when the others came back from looking for her, it was to find that the stable-lad, who in f was stunned, had already recovered and made . The animals had reassembled in the wildest excitement, each recounting his own exploits in the battle at the top of his voice. An impromptu celebration of the victory was held . The flag was run up and Beasts of England was sung a number of times, then the sheep who had been killed was given a solemn funeral, a hawthorn bush being planted on her grave. At the graveside Sb made a little speech, emphasising the need for animals to be ready to die for Animal Farm if need be. The animals decided unanimously to create a military decoration, Animal Hero, First Class, which was conferred t and then on Sb and Boxer. It consisted of a brass medal (they were rey some old horse-brasses which had been found in the harness-room), to be worn on Sundays and holidays. T was also Animal Hero, Second Class, which was conferred posthumously on the dead sheep. T was much discussion as to what the battle should be ced. In the end, it was d the Battle of the Cowshed, since that was w the ambush had been sprung. Mr. Jones's gun had been found lying in the mud, and it was kn that t was a supply of cartridges in the farmhouse. It was decided to set the gun up at the foot of the Flagstaff, like a piece of artillery, and to fire it twice a year–once on October the twelfth, the anniversary of the Battle of the Cowshed, and once on Midsummer Day, the anniversary of the Rebellion. As winter drew on, Mollie became more and more troublesome. She was late for work every morning and excused herself by saying that she had overslept, and she complained of mysterious pains, although her appetite was excellent. On every kind of pretext she would run away from work and go to the drinking pool, w she would stand foolishly gazing at her own reflection in the water. But t were also rumours of something more . One day, as Mollie strolled blithely into the yard, flirting her long tail and chewing at a stalk of hay, Clover took her aside. Mollie, she said, I have something very to say to you. This morning I saw you looking over the hedge that divides Animal Farm from Foxwood. One of Mr. Pilkington's men was standing on the other side of the hedge. And–I was a long way away, but I am almost certain I saw this–he was talking to you and you were owing him to stroke your nose. What does that mean, Mollie? He didn't! I wasn't! It isn't true! cried Mollie, beginning to prance about and paw the ground. Mollie! Look me in the face. Do you give me your word of honour that that man was not stroking your nose? It isn't true! repeated Mollie, but she could not look Clover in the face, and the next moment she took to her heels and goped away into the field. A thought struck Clover. Without saying anything to the others, she went to Mollie's st and turned over the straw with her hoof. under the straw was a little pile of lump sugar and several bunches of ribbon of different colours. Three days later Mollie disappeared. For some weeks nothing was kn of her wabouts, then the pigeons reported that they had seen her on the other side of Willingdon. She was between the shafts of a smart dogcart painted red and black, which was standing outside a public-house. A fat red-faced man in breeches and gaiters, who looked like a publican, was stroking her nose and feeding her with sugar. Her coat was ly clipped and she wore a scarlet ribbon round her forelock. She appeared to be enjoying herself, so the pigeons said. None of the animals ever mentioned Mollie again. In January t came bitterly hard weather. The earth was like iron, and nothing could be done in the fields. Many meetings were held in the big barn, and the pigs occupied themselves with planning out the work of the coming season. It had come to be accepted that the pigs, who were manifestly cleverer than the other animals, should decide questions of farm policy, though their decisions had to be ratified by a majority vote. This arrangement would have worked well enough if it had not been for the disputes between Sb and Napoleon. These two disagreed at every point w disagreement was possible. If one of them suggested sowing a bigger acreage with barley, the other was certain to demand a bigger acreage of oats, and if one of them said that such and such a field was just right for cabbages, the other would declare that it was useless for anything except roots. Each had his own following, and t were some violent debates. At the Meetings Sb often over the majority by his brilliant speeches, but Napoleon was better at canvassing support for himself in between times. He was especiy sful with the sheep. Of late the sheep had taken to bleating Four legs good, two legs bad both in and out of season, and they often interrupted the Meeting with this. It was noticed that they were especiy liable to break into Four legs good, two legs bad at crucial moments in Sb's speeches. Sb had made a c study of some back numbers of the Farmer and Stockbreeder which he had found in the farmhouse, and was full of plans for innovations and improvements. He talked learnedly about field drains, silage, and basic slag, and had worked out a complicated scheme for the animals to drop their dung directly in the fields, at a different spot every day, to the labour of cartage. Napoleon produced no schemes of his own, but said quietly that Sb's would come to nothing, and seemed to be biding his time. But of their controversies, none was so bitter as the one that took place over the windmill. In the long pasture, not far from the farm buildings, t was a sm knoll which was the highest point on the farm. After surveying the ground, Sb declared that this was just the place for a windmill, which could be made to ope a dynamo and supply the farm with electrical power. This would light the sts and warm them in winter, and would also run a circular saw, a chaff-cutter, a mangel-slicer, and an electric milking machine. The animals had heard of anything of this kind before (for the farm was an old-fashioned one and had the most primitive machinery), and they listened in astonishment while Sb conjured up pictures of machines which would do their work for them while they grazed at their ease in the fields or improved their minds with reading and conversation. Within a few weeks Sb's plans for the windmill were fully worked out. The mechanical details came mostly from three books which had belonged to Mr. Jones–One Thousand Useful Things to Do About the House, Every Man His Own Bricklayer, and Electricity for Beginners. Sb used as his study a shed which had once been used for incubators and had a smooth wooden floor, suitable for drawing on. He was cted t for hours at a time. With his books held by a stone, and with a piece of chalk gripped between the knuckles of his trotter, he would move rapidly to and fro, drawing in line after line and uttering little whimpers of excitement. Graduy the plans grew into a complicated mass of cranks and cog-wheels, covering more than half the floor, which the other animals found completely unintelligible but very impressive. of them came to look at Sb's drawings at least once a day. Even the hens and ducks came, and were at pains not to tread on the chalk marks. Napoleon held aloof. He had declared himself against the windmill from the start. One day, however, he arrived unexpectedly to examine the plans. He walked heavily round the shed, looked cly at every detail of the plans and snuffed at them once or twice, then stood for a little while contemplating them out of the corner of his eye; then suddenly he ted his leg, urinated over the plans, and walked out without uttering a word. The whole farm was deeply divided on the subject of the windmill. Sb did not deny that to build it would be a difficult business. Stone would have to be carried and built up into ws, then the sails would have to be made and after that t would be need for dynamos and cables. (How these were to be procured, Sb did not say.) But he that it could be done in a year. And tafter, he declared, so much labour would be d that the animals would need to work three days a week. Napoleon, on the other hand, argued that the need of the moment was to increase food production, and that if they wasted time on the windmill they would starve to death. The animals ed themselves into two fions under the slogan, Vote for Sb and the three-day week and Vote for Napoleon and the full manger. Benjamin was the animal who did not side with either fion. He refused to believe either that food would become more plentiful or that the windmill would work. Windmill or no windmill, he said, would go on as it had always gone on–that is, badly. Apart from the disputes over the windmill, t was the question of the defence of the farm. It was fully realised that though the beings had been defeated in the Battle of the Cowshed they might make another and more determined attempt to recapture the farm and reinstate Mr. Jones. They had the more reason for doing so because the s of their defeat had spread across the countryside and made the animals on the neighbouring farms more restive than ever. As usual, Sb and Napoleon were in disagreement. According to Napoleon, what the animals must do was to procure firearms and train themselves in the use of them. According to Sb, they must send out more and more pigeons and stir up rebellion among the animals on the other farms. The one argued that if they could not defend themselves they were bound to be conquered, the other argued that if rebellions happened everyw they would have no need to defend themselves. The animals listened first to Napoleon, then to Sb, and could not make up their minds which was right; indeed, they always found themselves in agreement with the one who was speaking at the moment. At last the day came when Sb's plans were completed. At the Meeting on the following Sunday the question of whether or not to begin work on the windmill was to be put to the vote. When the animals had assembled in the big barn, Sb stood up and, though occasiony interrupted by bleating from the sheep, set forth his reasons for advocating the building of the windmill. Then Napoleon stood up to reply. He said very quietly that the windmill was nonsense and that he advised nobody to vote for it, and promptly sat down again; he had spoken for barely thirty seconds, and seemed almost indifferent as to the effect he produced. At this Sb sprang to his feet, and shouting down the sheep, who had begun bleating again, broke into a passionate appeal in favour of the windmill. Until the animals had been about equy divided in their sympathies, but in a moment Sb's eloquence had carried them away. In glowing sentences he painted a picture of Animal Farm as it might be when sordid labour was lifted from the animals' backs. His imagination had run far beyond chaff-cutters and turnip-slicers. Electricity, he said, could ope threshing machines, ploughs, harrows, rollers, and reapers and binders, besides supplying every st with its own electric light, hot and cold water, and an electric heater. By the time he had finished speaking, t was no doubt as to which way the vote would go. But just at this moment Napoleon stood up and, casting a peculiar sidelong look at Sb, uttere d a high-pitched whimper of a kind no one had ever heard him utter before. At this t was a terrible baying sound outside, and nine enormous dogs wearing brass-studded collars came bounding into the barn. They dashed straight for Sb, who sprang from his place just in time to escape their snapping jaws. In a moment he was out of the door and they were after him. Too and frightened to speak, the animals crowded through the door to watch the chase. Sb was racing across the long pasture that led to the road. He was running as a pig can run, but the dogs were c on his heels. Suddenly he slipped and it seemed certain that they had him. Then he was up again, running er than ever, then the dogs were gaining on him again. One of them but cd his jaws on Sb's tail, but Sb whisked it just in time. Then he put on an spurt and, with a few inches to spare, slipped through a hole in the hedge and was seen no more. Silent and terrified, the animals crept back into the barn. In a moment the dogs came bounding back. At first no one had been able to imagine w these creatures came from, but the was solved: they were the puppies whom Napoleon had taken away from their mothers and reared privately. Though not yet full-grown, they were huge dogs, and as fierce-looking as wolves. They kept c to Napoleon. It was noticed that they wagged their tails to him in the same way as the other dogs had been used to do to Mr. Jones. Napoleon, with the dogs following him, mounted on to the raised portion of the floor w Major had previously stood to deliver his speech. He announced that from on the Sunday-morning Meetings would come to an end. They were unnecessary, he said, and wasted time. In future questions relating to the working of the farm would be settled by a special committee of pigs, presided over by himself. These would meet in private and afterwards communicate their decisions to the others. The animals would still assemble on Sunday mornings to salute the flag, sing Beasts of England, and receive theirs for the week; but t would be no more debates. In spite of the shock that Sb's expulsion had given them, the animals were dismayed by this announcement. Several of them would have protested if they could have found the right arguments. Even Boxer was vaguely troubled. He set his ears back, shook his forelock several times, and tried hard to marshal his thoughts; but in the end he could not think of anything to say. Some of the pigs themselves, however, were more articulate. Four young porkers in the front row uttered shrill squeals of disapproval, and four of them sprang to their feet and began speaking at once. But suddenly the dogs sitting round Napoleon let out deep, menacing growls, and the pigs fell silent and sat down again. Then the sheep broke out into a tremendous bleating of Four legs good, two legs bad! which went on for nearly a quarter of an hour and put an end to any of discussion. Afterwards Squealer was sent round the farm to explain the arrangement to the others. Comrades, he said, I trust that every animal appreciates the sacrifice that Comrade Napoleon has made in taking this labour upon himself. Do not imagine, comrades, that leadership is a pleasure! On the contrary, it is a deep and heavy responsibility. No one believes more firmly than Comrade Napoleon that animals are equal. He would be too happy to let you make your decisions for yourselves. But sometimes you might make the wrong decisions, comrades, and then w should we be? Suppose you had decided to follow Sb, with his moonshine of windmills–Sb, who, as we k, was no better than a criminal? He fought bravely at the Battle of the Cowshed, said somebody. Martin D. Weiss, PhD Weiss Ratings Founder No, said Sb firmly. We have no means of making sugar on this farm. Besides, you do not need sugar. You will have the oats and hay you want. And sh I still be owed to wear ribbons in my mane? asked Mollie. Comrade, said Sb, those ribbons that you are so devoted to are the badge of slavery. Can you not understand that liberty is worth more than ribbons? Mollie agreed, but she did not sound very convinced. The reading and writing classes, however, were a s. By the autumn almost every animal on the farm was lite in some degree. As for the pigs, they could already read and write ly. The dogs learned to read fairly well, but were not interested in reading anything except the Seven Commandments. Muriel, the goat, could read somewhat better than the dogs, and sometimes used to read to the others in the evenings from scraps of spaper which she found on the rubbish heap. Benjamin could read as well as any pig, but exercised his faculty. So far as he k, he said, t was nothing worth reading. Clover learnt the whole alphabet, but could not put words toher. Boxer could not beyond the letter D. He would trace out A, B, C, D, in the dust with his hoof, and then would stand staring at the letters with his ears back, sometimes shaking his forelock, trying with his might to remember what came next and succeeding. On several occasions, indeed, he did learn E, F, G, H, but by the time he k them, it was always discovered that he had forgotten A, B, C, and D. Finy he decided to be content with the first four letters, and used to write them out once or twice every day to refresh his memory. Mollie refused to learn any but the six letters which spelt her own . She would these very neatly out of pieces of twig, and would then deco them with a flower or two and walk round them admiring them. None of the other animals on the farm could further than the letter A. It was also found that the stupider animals, such as the sheep, hens, and ducks, were unable to learn the Seven Commandments by heart. After much thought Sb declared that the Seven Commandments could in effect be reduced to a single maxim, ly: Four legs good, two legs bad. This, he said, contained the essential principle of Animalism. Whoever had thoroughly grasped it would be safe from influences. The birds at first objected, since it seemed to them that they also had two legs, but Sb proved to them that this was not so. A bird's wing, comrades, he said, is an organ of propulsion and not of manipulation. It should tfore be regarded as a leg. The distinguishing mark of man is the hand, the instrument with which he does his mischief. The birds did not understand Sb's long words, but they accepted his explanation, and the humbler animals set to work to learn the maxim by heart. FOUR LEGS GOOD, TWO LEGS BAD was inscribed on the end w of the barn, above the Seven Commandments and in bigger letters When they had once got it by heart, the sheep developed a liking for this maxim, and often as they lay in the field they would start bleating Four legs good, two legs bad! Four legs good, two legs bad! and keep it up for hours on end, growing tired of it. Napoleon took in Sb's committees. He said that the education of the young was more important than anything that could be done for those who were already grown up. It happened that Jessie and Bluebell had both whelped after the hay harvest, giving birth between them to nine sturdy puppies. As as they were weaned, Napoleon took them away from their mothers, saying that he would make himself responsible for their education. He took them up into a loft which could be reached by a ladder from the harness-room, and t kept them in such seclusion that the rest of the farm forgot their existence. The mystery of w the milk went to was cleared up. It was mixed every day into the pigs' mash. The early apples were ripening, and the grass of the orchard was littered with windfs. The animals had assumed as a matter of course that these would be shared out equy; one day, however, the went forth that the windfs were to be ed and brought to the harness-room for the use of the pigs. At this some of the other animals murmured, but it was no use. the pigs were in full agreement on this point, even Sb and Napoleon. Squealer was sent to make the necessary explanations to the others. Comrades! he cried. You do not imagine, I hope, that we pigs are doing this in a spirit of selfishness and privilege? Many of us uy dislike milk and apples. I dislike them myself. Our sole object in taking these things is to preserve our health. Milk and apples (this has been proved by Science, comrades) contain substances absolutely necessary to the well-being of a pig. We pigs are brainworkers. The whole management and organisation of this farm depend on us. Day and night we are watching over your welfare. It is for your sake that we drink that milk and eat those apples. Do you k what would happen if we pigs failed in our duty? Jones would come back! Yes, Jones would come back! Surely, comrades, cried Squealer almost pleadingly, skipping from side to side and whisking his tail, surely t is no one among you who wants to see Jones come back? if t was one thing that the animals were completely certain of, it was that they did not want Jones back. When it was put to them in this light, they had no more to say. The importance of keeping the pigs in good health was too obvious. So it was agreed without further argument that the milk and the windf apples (and also the main crop of apples when they ripened) should be reserved for the pigs alone. By the late summer the s of what had happened on Animal Farm had spread across half the county. Every day Sb and Napoleon sent out flights of pigeons whose instructions were to mingle with the animals on neighbouring farms, tell them the story of the Rebellion, and teach them the tune of Beasts of England. Most of this time Mr. Jones had spent sitting in the taproom of the Red Lion at Willingdon, complaining to anyone who would listen of the monstrous injustice he had suffered in being turned out of his property by a pack of good-for-nothing animals. The other farmers sympathised in principle, but they did not at first give him much help. At heart, each of them was secretly dering whether he could not somehow turn Jones's misfortune to his own advantage. It was lucky that the owners of the two farms which adjoined Animal Farm were on permanently bad . One of them, which was d Foxwood, was a large, neglected, old-fashioned farm, much overgrown by woodland, with its pastures worn out and its hedges in a disgraceful condition. Its owner, Mr. Pilkington, was an easy-going gentleman farmer who spent most of his time in fishing or hunting according to the season. The other farm, which was ced Pinchfield, was smer and better kept. Its owner was a Mr. Frederick, a tough, shrewd man, perpetuy involved in lawsuits and with a for driving hard bargains. These two disliked each other so much that it was difficult for them to come to any agreement, even in defence of their own interests. theless, they were both thoroughly frightened by the rebellion on Animal Farm, and very anxious to prevent their own animals from learning too much about it. At first they pretended to laugh to scorn the idea of animals managing a farm for themselves. The whole thing would be over in a fortnight, they said. They put it about that the animals on the Manor Farm (they insisted on cing it the Manor Farm; they would not tole the Animal Farm) were perpetuy fighting among themselves and were also rapidly starving to death. When time passed and the animals had evidently not starved to death, Frederick and Pilkington changed their tune and began to talk of the terrible wickedness that flourished on Animal Farm. It was given out that the animals t prised cannibalism, tortured one another with red-hot horseshoes, and had their females in common. This was what came of rebelling against the laws of Nature, Frederick and Pilkington said. However, these stories were fully believed. Rumours of a derful farm, w the beings had been turned out and the animals managed their own affairs, continued to circulate in vague and distorted s, and throughout that year a wave of rebelliousness ran through the countryside. Bulls which had always been trable suddenly turned age, sheep broke down hedges and devoured the clover, cows kicked the pail over, hunters refused their fences and shot their riders on to the other side. Above , the tune and even the words of Beasts of England were kn everyw. It had spread with astonishing speed. The beings could not contain their rage when they heard this song, though they pretended to think it merely ridiculous. They could not understand, they said, how even animals could bring themselves to sing such contemptible rubbish. Any animal caught singing it was given a flogging on the spot. And yet the song was irrepressible. The blackbirds whistled it in the hedges, the pigeons cooed it in the elms, it got into the din of the smithies and the tune of the church bells. And when the beings listened to it, they secretly trembled, hearing in it a prophecy of their future doom. Early in October, when the corn was cut and stacked and some of it was already threshed, a flight of pigeons came whirling through the air and alighted in the yard of Animal Farm in the wildest excitement. Jones and his men, with half a dozen others from Foxwood and Pinchfield, had entered the five-barred gate and were coming up the cart-track that led to the farm. They were carrying sticks, except Jones, who was marching ahead with a gun in his hands. Obviously they were going to attempt the re capture of the farm. This had long been expected, and preparations had been made. Sb, who had studied an old book of Julius Caesar's campaigns which he had found in the farmhouse, was in charge of the defensive operations. He gave hiss quickly, and in a couple of minutes every animal was at his post. As the beings approached the farm buildings, Sb launched his first attack. the pigeons, to the number of thirty-five, flew to and fro over the men's heads and muted upon them from mid-air; and while the men were ing with this, the geese, who had been hiding behind the hedge, rushed out and pecked viciously at the calves of their legs. However, this was a light skirmishing manoeuvre, intended to create a little di, and the men easily drove the geese with their sticks. Sb launched his second line of attack. Muriel, Benjamin, and the sheep, with Sb at the head of them, rushed forward and prodded and butted the men from every side, while Benjamin turned around and lashed at them with his sm hoofs. But once again the men, with their sticks and their hobnailed boots, were too strong for them; and suddenly, at a squeal from Sb, which was the signal for retreat, the animals turned and fled through the gateway into the yard. The men gave a shout of triumph. They saw, as they imagined, their enemies in flight, and they rushed after them in di. This was just what Sb had intended. As as they were well inside the yard, the three horses, the three cows, and the rest of the pigs, who had been lying in ambush in the cowshed, suddenly emerged in their rear, cutting them . Sb gave the signal for the charge. He himself dashed straight for Jones. Jones saw him coming, raised his gun and fired. The pellets scored bloody streaks along Sb's back, and a sheep dropped dead. Without halting for an , Sb flung his fifteen stone against Jones's legs. Jones was hurled into a pile of dung and his gun flew out of his hands. But the most terrifying spectacle of was Boxer, rearing up on his hind legs and striking out with his iron-shod hoofs like a stion. His very first blow took a stable-lad from Foxwood on the skull and stretched him less in the mud. At the sight, several men dropped their sticks and tried to run. Panic overtook them, and the next moment the animals toher were chasing them round and round the yard. They were gored, kicked, bitten, trampled on. T was not an animal on the farm that did not take vengeance on them after his own fashion. Even the cat suddenly leapt a roof onto a cowman's shoulders and sank her claws in his neck, at which he yelled horribly. At a moment when the ing was clear, the men were glad enough to rush out of the yard and make a bolt for the main road. And so within five minutes of their invasion they were in ignominious retreat by the same way as they had come, with a flock of geese hissing after them and pecking at their calves the way. [image in footer dar devider] 11780 US Highway 1, Palm Beach Gardens, FL 33408-3080 Would you like to [edit your e-mail notification preferences or unsubscribe]( from Weiss mailing list? Copyright © 2023 Weiss Ratings. All rights reserved. [small logotype footer Expert Modern Advice]( ExpertModernAdvice.com is sending this newsletter on behalf Inception Media Group. IMG appreciates your comments and inquiries. Please keep in mind, that Inception Media Group are not permitted to provide individualized fіnancіal advіse. This email is not financial advice and any іnvestment decіsіon 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. 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