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𝑇𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑁𝑜𝑏𝑒𝑙 𝐿𝑎𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 "𝐻𝑜𝑙𝑦 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑙" 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑒. [Main logotype Expert Modern Advice](       Dear Fellow Investor, Within 10 days of taking office, President Trump signed "Executive Оrdеr 13771." He wanted us to wіn the war for the future of mеdісіnе! To wіn the battle for what 60 minutes said could be "the most consequential discovery in biomedicine this century." To wіn the battle for what The Nobel Laureate Committee called the "Holy Grail" of mеdісіnе. This breakthrough technology [has the ability to eliminate аll 6,000 genetic diseases from mankind.]( Diseases like skin cancer, liver disease, and diabetes... And as a result, this technology could create more millionaires than any other single breakthrough in history. So why did Biden repeal this? 👉 [СІісk hеrе to learn more]( AІІ thе bеst, Simmy Adelman Editor, Behind the Markets Bravery is not enough, said Squealer. Loyalty and obedience are more important. And as to the Battle of the Cowshed, I believe the time will come when we sh find that Sb's part in it was much exagged. Discipline, comrades, iron discipline! That is the watchword for . One false step, and our enemies would be upon us. Surely, comrades, you do not want Jones back? Once again this argument was unanswerable. Certainly the animals did not want Jones back; if the holding of debates on Sunday mornings was liable to bring him back, then the debates must . Boxer, who had had time to think things over, voiced the general feeling by saying: If Comrade Napoleon says it, it must be right. And from then on he adopted the maxim, Napoleon is always right, in addition to his private motto of I will work harder. By this time the weather had broken and the spring ploughing had begun. The shed w Sb had drawn his plans of the windmill had been shut up and it was assumed that the plans had been rubbed the floor. Every Sunday morning at ten o'clock the animals assembled in the big barn to receive theirs for the week. The skull of old Major, clean of flesh, had been disinterred from the orchard and set up on a stump at the foot of the flagstaff, beside the gun. After the hoisting of the flag, the animals were required to file past the skull in a reverent manner before entering the barn. adays they did not sit toher as they had done in the past. Napoleon, with Squealer and another pig d Minimus, who had a remarkable gift for composing songs and poems, sat on the front of the raised plat, with the nine young dogs ing a semicircle round them, and the other pigs sitting behind. The rest of the animals sat facing them in the main body of the barn. Napoleon read out thes for the week in a gruff soldierly style, and after a single singing of Beasts of England, the animals dispersed. On the third Sunday after Sb's expulsion, the animals were somewhat surprised to hear Napoleon announce that the windmill was to be built after . He did not give any reason for having changed his mind, but merely warned the animals that this task would mean very hard work, it might even be necessary to reduce their rations. The plans, however, had been prepared, down to the last detail. A special committee of pigs had been at work upon them for the past three weeks. The building of the windmill, with various other improvements, was expected to take two years. That evening Squealer explained privately to the other animals that Napoleon had in reality been opposed to the windmill. On the contrary, it was he who had advocated it in the beginning, and the plan which Sb had drawn on the floor of the incubator shed had uy been stolen from among Napoleon's papers. The windmill was, in f, Napoleon's own creation. Why, then, asked somebody, had he spoken so strongly against it? Squealer looked very sly. That, he said, was Comrade Napoleon's cunning. He had seemed to oppose the windmill, simply as a manoeuvre to rid of Sb, who was a dangerous charer and a bad influence. that Sb was out of the way, the plan could go forward without his interference. This, said Squealer, was something ced tics. He repeated a number of times, Tics, comrades, tics! skipping round and whisking his tail with a merry laugh. The animals were not certain what the word meant, but Squealer spoke so persuasively, and the three dogs who happened to be with him growled so threateningly, that they accepted his explanation without further questions. that year the animals worked like slaves. But they were happy in their work; they grudged no effort or sacrifice, well aware that everything that they did was for the benefit of themselves and those of their kind who would come after them, and not for a pack of idle, thieving beings. Throughout the spring and summer they worked a sixty-hour week, and in August Napoleon announced that t would be work on Sunday afternoons as well. This work was strictly voluntary, but any animal who absented himself from it would have his rations reduced by half. Even so, it was found necessary to certain tasks undone. The harvest was a little less sful than in the previous year, and two fields which should have been sown with roots in the early summer were not sown because the ploughing had not been completed early enough. It was possible to foresee that the coming winter would be a hard one. The windmill presented unexpected difficulties. T was a good quarry of limestone on the farm, and plenty of sand and cement had been found in one of the outhouses, so that the materials for building were at hand. But the the animals could not at first solve was how to break up the stone into pieces of suitable size. T seemed no way of doing this except with picks and crowbars, which no animal could use, because no animal could stand on his hind legs. after weeks of vain effort did the right idea occur to somebody–ly, to utilise the force of gravity. Huge boulders, far too big to be used as they were, were lying over the bed of the quarry. The animals lashed ropes round these, and then toher, cows, horses, sheep, any animal that could lay hold of the rope–even the pigs sometimes joined in at critical moments–they dragged them with despe slowness up the slope to the top of the quarry, w they were toppled over the edge, to shatter to pieces below. Transporting the stone when it was once broken was comparatively simple. The horses carried it in cart-loads, the sheep dragged single blocks, even Muriel and Benjamin yoked themselves into an old governess-cart and did their share. By late summer a sufficient store of stone had accumulated, and then the building began, under the superintendence of the pigs. But it was a slow, laborious process. Frequently it took a whole day of exhausting effort to drag a single boulder to the top of the quarry, and sometimes when it was pushed over the edge it failed to break. Nothing could have been achieved without Boxer, whose strength seemed equal to that of the rest of the animals put toher. When the boulder began to slip and the animals cried out in despair at finding themselves dragged down the hill, it was always Boxer who strained himself against the rope and brought the boulder to a . To see him toiling up the slope inch by inch, his breath coming , the tips of his hoofs clawing at the ground, and his sides matted with sweat, filled everyone with admiration. Clover warned him sometimes to be careful not to overstrain himself, but Boxer would listen to her. His two slogans, I will work harder and Napoleon is always right, seemed to him a sufficient answer to s. He had made arrangements with the cockerel to c him three-quarters of an hour earlier in the mornings instead of half an hour. And in his spare moments, of which t were not many adays, he would go alone to the quarry, a load of broken stone, and drag it down to the site of the windmill unassisted. The animals were not badly throughout that summer, in spite of the hardness of their work. If they had no more food than they had had in Jones's day, at least they did not have less. The advantage of having to feed themselves, and not having to support five vagant beings as well, was so that it would have taken a lot of failures to outweigh it. And in many ways the animal method of doing things was more efficient and d labour. Such jobs as weeding, for instance, could be done with a thoroughness impossible to beings. And again, since no animal stole, it was unnecessary to fence pasture from arable land, which d a lot of labour on the upkeep of hedges and gates. theless, as the summer wore on, various unforeseen shortages began to make them selves felt. T was need of paraffin oil, nails, string, dog biscuits, and iron for the horses' shoes, none of which could be produced on the farm. Later t would also be need for seeds and artificial manures, besides various tools and, finy, the machinery for the windmill. How these were to be procured, no one was able to imagine. One Sunday morning, when the animals assembled to receive theirs, Napoleon announced that he had decided upon a policy. From onwards Animal Farm would engage in trade with the neighbouring farms: not, of course, for any commercial purpose, but simply in to obtain certain materials which were urgently necessary. The needs of the windmill must override everything else, he said. He was tfore making arrangements to sell a stack of hay and part of the current year's wheat crop, and later on, if more were needed, it would have to be made up by the of eggs, for which t was always a market in Willingdon. The hens, said Napoleon, should welcome this sacrifice as their own special contribution towards the building of the windmill. Once again the animals were conscious of a vague uneasiness. to have any ings with beings, to engage in trade, to make use of –had not these been among the earliest res passed at that first triumphant Meeting after Jones was expelled? the animals remembered passing such res: or at least they thought that they remembered it. The four young pigs who had protested when Napoleon abolished the Meetings raised their voices timidly, but they were promptly silenced by a tremendous growling from the dogs. Then, as usual, the sheep broke into Four legs good, two legs bad! and the momentary awkwardness was smoothed over. Finy Napoleon raised his trotter for silence and announced that he had already made the arrangements. T would be no need for any of the animals to come in cont with beings, which would clearly be most undesirable. He intended to take the whole burden upon his own shoulders. A Mr. Whymper, a solicitor living in Willingdon, had agreed to as intermediary between Animal Farm and the outside world, and would visit the farm every Monday morning to receive his instructions. Napoleon ended his speech with his usual cry of Long live Animal Farm! and after the singing of Beasts of England the animals were dismissed. Afterwards Squealer made a round of the farm and set the animals' minds at rest. He assured them that the re against engaging in trade and using had been passed, or even suggested. It was pure imagination, probably traceable in the beginning to lies circulated by Sb. A few animals still felt faintly doubtful, but Squealer asked them shrewdly, Are you certain that this is not something that you have dreamed, comrades? Have you any record of such a re? Is it written down anyw? And since it was certainly true that nothing of the kind existed in writing, the animals were satisfied that they had been mistaken. Every Monday Mr. Whymper visited the farm as had been arranged. He was a sly-looking little man with side whiskers, a solicitor in a very sm way of business, but sharp enough to have realised earlier than anyone else that Animal Farm would need a broker and that the commissions would be worth having. The animals watched his coming and going with a kind of dread, and avoided him as much as possible. theless, the sight of Napoleon, on fours, deliverings to Whymper, who stood on two legs, roused their pride and partly reconciled them to the arrangement. Their relations with the race were not quite the same as they had been before. The beings did not hate Animal Farm any less that it was prospering; indeed, they hated it more than ever. Every being held it as an article of faith that the farm would go bankrupt er or later, and, above , that the windmill would be a failure. They would meet in the public-houses and prove to one another by means of diagrams that the windmill was bound to f down, or that if it did stand up, then that it would work. And yet, against their will, they had developed a certain respect for the efficiency with which the animals were managing their own affairs. One symptom of this was that they had begun to c Animal Farm by its proper and ceased to pretend that it was ced the Manor Farm. They had also dropped their championship of Jones, who had given up hope of ting his farm back and gone to live in another part of the county. Except through Whymper, t was as yet no cont between Animal Farm and the outside world, but t were constant rumours that Napoleon was about to enter into a definite business agreement either with Mr. Pilkington of Foxwood or with Mr. Frederick of Pinchfield–but , it was noticed, with both simultaneously.       It was about this time that the pigs suddenly moved into the farmhouse and took up their residence t. Again the animals seemed to remember that a re against this had been passed in the early days, and again Squealer was able to convince them that this was not the case. It was absolutely necessary, he said, that the pigs, who were the brains of the farm, should have a quiet place to work in. It was also more suited to the dignity of the Leader (for of late he had taken to speaking of Napoleon under the title of Leader) to live in a house than in a mere sty. theless, some of the animals were disturbed when they heard that the pigs not took their meals in the kitchen and used the drawing-room as a recreation room, but also slept in the beds. Boxer passed it as usual with Napoleon is always right!, but Clover, who thought she remembered a definite ruling against beds, went to the end of the barn and tried to puzzle out the Seven Commandments which were inscribed t. Finding herself unable to read more than individual letters, she fetched Muriel. Muriel, she said, read me the Fourth Commandment. Does it not say something about sleeping in a bed? With some difficulty Muriel spelt it out. It says, 'No animal sh sleep in a bed with sheets,' she announced finy. Curiously enough, Clover had not remembered that the Fourth Commandment mentioned sheets; but as it was t on the w, it must have done so. And Squealer, who happened to be passing at this moment, attended by two or three dogs, was able to put the whole matter in its proper perspective. You have heard then, comrades, he said, that we pigs sleep in the beds of the farmhouse? And why not? You did not suppose, surely, that t was ever a ruling against beds? A bed merely means a place to sleep in. A pile of straw in a st is a bed, properly regarded. The rule was against sheets, which are a invention. We have d the sheets from the farmhouse beds, and sleep between blankets. And very comfortable beds they are too! But not more comfortable than we need, I can tell you, comrades, with the brainwork we have to do adays. You would not rob us of our repose, would you, comrades? You would not have us too tired to carry out our duties? Surely none of you wishes to see Jones back? The animals reassured him on this point , and no more was said about the pigs sleeping in the farmhouse beds. And when, some days afterwards, it was announced that from on the pigs would up an hour later in the mornings than the other animals, no complaint was made about that either. By the autumn the animals were tired but happy. They had had a hard year, and after the of part of the hay and corn, the stores of food for the winter were none too plentiful, but the windmill compensated for everything. It was almost half built . After the harvest t was a stretch of clear dry weather, and the animals toiled harder than ever, thinking it well worth while to plod to and fro day with blocks of stone if by doing so they could raise the ws another foot. Boxer would even come out at nights and work for an hour or two on his own by the light of the harvest moon. In their spare moments the animals would walk round and round the half-finished mill, admiring the strength and perpendicularity of its ws and marvelling that they should ever have been able to build anything so imposing. old Benjamin refused to grow enthusiastic about the windmill, though, as usual, he would utter nothing beyond the cryptic remark that donkeys live a long time. November came, with raging south-west winds. Building had to because it was too wet to mix the cement. Finy t came a night when the gale was so violent that the farm buildings rocked on their foundations and several tiles were blown the roof of the barn. The hens woke up squawking with terror because they had dreamed simultaneously of hearing a gun go in the distance. In the morning the animals came out of their sts to find that the flagstaff had been blown down and an elm tree at the foot of the orchard had been plucked up like a radish. They had just noticed this when a cry of despair broke from every animal's throat. A terrible sight had met their eyes. The windmill was in ruins. With one accord they dashed down to the spot. Napoleon, who seldom moved out of a walk, raced ahead of them . Yes, t it lay, the fruit of their struggles, levelled to its foundations, the stones they had broken and carried so laboriously scattered around. Unable at first to speak, they stood gazing mournfully at the litter of fen stone Napoleon paced to and fro in silence, occasiony snuffing at the ground. His tail had grown rigid and twitched sharply from side to side, a sign in him of intense mental ivity. Suddenly he halted as though his mind were made up. Comrades, he said quietly, do you k who is responsible for this? Do you k the enemy who has come in the night and overthrown our windmill? SB! he suddenly roared in a voice of thunder. Sb has done this thing! In sheer malignity, thinking to set back our plans and avenge himself for his ignominious expulsion, this traitor has crept under cover of night and destroyed our work of nearly a year. Comrades, and I pronounce the death sentence upon Sb. 'Animal Hero, Second Class,' and half a bushel of apples to any animal who brings him to justice. A full bushel to anyone who captures him alive! The animals were shocked beyond measure to learn that even Sb could be guilty of such an ion. T was a cry of indignation, and everyone began thinking out ways of catching Sb if he should ever come back. Almost the footprints of a pig were discovered in the grass at a little distance from the knoll. They could be traced for a few yards, but appeared to lead to a hole in the hedge. Napoleon snuffed deeply at them and pronounced them to be Sb's. He gave it as his opinion that Sb had probably come from the direction of Foxwood Farm. No more delays, comrades! cried Napoleon when the footprints had been examined. T is work to be done. This very morning we begin rebuilding the windmill, and we will build through the winter, rain or shine. We will teach this miserable traitor that he cannot undo our work so easily. Remember, comrades, t must be no alteration in our plans: they sh be carried out to the day. Forward, comrades! Long live the windmill! Long live Animal Farm! It was a bitter winter. The stormy weather was followed by sleet and s, and then by a hard frost which did not break till well into February. The animals carried on as best they could with the rebuilding of the windmill, well king that the outside world was watching them and that the envious beings would rejoice and triumph if the mill were not finished on time. Out of spite, the beings pretended not to believe that it was Sb who had destroyed the windmill: they said that it had fen down because the ws were too thin. The animals k that this was not the case. Still, it had been decided to build the ws three feet thick this time instead of eighteen inches as before, which meant ing much larger quantities of stone. For a long time the quarry was full of sdrifts and nothing could be done. Some progress was made in the dry frosty weather that followed, but it was cruel work, and the animals could not feel so hopeful about it as they had felt before. They were always cold, and usuy hungry as well. Boxer and Clover lost heart. Squealer made excellent speeches on the joy of service and the dignity of labour, but the other animals found more inspiration in Boxer's strength and his -failing cry of I will work harder! In January food fell short. The corn ration was drasticy reduced, and it was announced that an potato ration would be issued to make up for it. Then it was discovered that the er part of the potato crop had been frosted in the clamps, which had not been covered thickly enough. The potatoes had become soft and discoloured, and a few were edible. For days at a time the animals had nothing to eat but chaff and mangels. Starvation seemed to stare them in the face. It was vity necessary to conceal this f from the outside world. Emboldened by the collapse of the windmill, the beings were inventing fresh lies about Animal Farm. Once again it was being put about that the animals were dying of famine and disease, and that they were continuy fighting among themselves and had resorted to cannibalism and infanticide. Napoleon was well aware of the bad results that might follow if the real fs of the food situation were kn, and he decided to make use of Mr. Whymper to spread a contrary impression. Hitherto the animals had had little or no cont with Whymper on his weekly visits: , however, a few selected animals, mostly sheep, were instructed to remark casuy in his hearing that rations had been increased. In addition, Napoleoned the almost empty bins in the store-shed to be filled nearly to the brim with sand, which was then covered up with what remained of the grain and meal. On some suitable pretext Whymper was led through the store-shed and owed to catch a glimpse of the bins. He was deceived, and continued to report to the outside world that t was no food shortage on Animal Farm. theless, towards the end of January it became obvious that it would be necessary to procure some more grain from somew. In these days Napoleon rarely appeared in public, but spent his time in the farmhouse, which was guarded at each door by fierce-looking dogs. When he did emerge, it was in a ceremonial manner, with an escort of six dogs who cly surrounded him and growled if anyone came too near. Frequently he did not even appear on Sunday mornings, but issued hiss through one of the other pigs, usuy Squealer. One Sunday morning Squealer announced that the hens, who had just come in to lay again, must surrender their eggs. Napoleon had accepted, through Whymper, a contr for four hundred eggs a week. The of these would pay for enough grain and meal to keep the farm going till summer came on and conditions were easier. When the hens heard this, they raised a terrible outcry. They had been warned earlier that this sacrifice might be necessary, but had not believed that it would rey happen. They were just ting their clutches ready for the spring sitting, and they protested that to take the eggs away was murder. For the first time since the expulsion of Jones, t was something resembling a rebellion. Led by three young Black Minorca pullets, the hens made a determined effort to thwart Napoleon's wishes. Their method was to fly up to the rafters and t lay their eggs, which smashed to pieces on the floor. Napoleon ed swiftly and ruthlessly. Heed the hens' rations to be ped, and decreed that any animal giving so much as a grain of corn to a hen should be punished by death. The dogs saw to it that theses were carried out. For five days the hens held out, then they capitulated and went back to their nesting boxes. Nine hens had died in the meantime. Their bodies were buried in the orchard, and it was given out that they had died of coccidiosis. Whymper heard nothing of this affair, and the eggs were duly delivered, a grocer's van driving up to the farm once a week to take them away. this while no more had been seen of Sb. He was rumoured to be hiding on one of the neighbouring farms, either Foxwood or Pinchfield. Napoleon was by this time on slightly better with the other farmers than before. It happened that t was in the yard a pile of timber which had been stacked t ten years earlier when a beech spinney was cleared. It was well seasoned, and Whymper had advised Napoleon to sell it; both Mr. Pilkington and Mr. Frederick were anxious to it. Napoleon was hesitating between the two, unable to make up his mind. It was noticed that whe he seemed on the point of coming to an agreement with Frederick, Sb was declared to be in hiding at Foxwood, while, when he inclined toward Pilkington, Sb was said to be at Pinchfield. Suddenly, early in the spring, an alarming thing was discovered. Sb was secretly frequenting the farm by night! The animals were so disturbed that they could hardly sleep in their sts. Every night, it was said, he came creeping in under cover of darkness and pered kinds of mischief. He stole the corn, he upset the milk-pails, he broke the eggs, he trampled the seedbeds, he gnawed the bark the fruit trees. Whe anything went wrong it became usual to attribute it to Sb. If a window was broken or a drain was blocked up, someone was certain to say that Sb had come in the night and done it, and when the key of the store-shed was lost, the whole farm was convinced that Sb had thrown it down the well. Curiously enough, they went on believing this even after the mislaid key was found under a sack of meal. The cows declared unanimously that Sb crept into their sts and milked them in their sleep. The rats, which had been troublesome that winter, were also said to be in league with Sb. Napoleon decreed that t should be a full investigation into Sb's ivities. With his dogs in attendance he set out and made a careful tour of inspection of the farm buildings, the other animals following at a respectful distance. At every few steps Napoleon ped and snuffed the ground for traces of Sb's footsteps, which, he said, he could detect by the smell. He snuffed in every corner, in the barn, in the cow-shed, in the henhouses, in the veable garden, and found traces of Sb almost everyw. He would put his snout to the ground, give several deep sniffs, ad exclaim in a terrible voice, Sb! He has been ! I can smell him distinctly! and at the word Sb the dogs let out blood-curdling growls and showed their side teeth. The animals were thoroughly frightened. It seemed to them as though Sb were some kind of invisible influence, pervading the air about them and menacing them with kinds of dangers. In the evening Squealer ced them toher, and with an alarmed expression on his face told them that he had some s to report. Comrades! cried Squealer, making little nervous skips, a most terrible thing has been discovered. Sb has sold himself to Frederick of Pinchfield Farm, who is even plotting to attack us and take our farm away from us! Sb is to as his guide when the attack begins. But t is worse than that. We had thought that Sb's rebellion was caused simply by his vanity and ambition. But we were wrong, comrades. Do you k what the real reason was? Sb was in league with Jones from the very start! He was Jones's secret agent the time. It has been proved by documents which he left behind him and which we have just discovered. To my mind this explains a , comrades. Did we not see for ourselves how he attempted–fortunately without s–to us defeated and destroyed at the Battle of the Cowshed? The animals were stupefied. This was a wickedness far outdoing Sb's destruction of the windmill. But it was some minutes before they could fully take it in. They remembered, or thought they remembered, how they had seen Sb charging ahead of them at the Battle of the Cowshed, how he had ried and encouraged them at every turn, and how he had not paused for an even when the pellets from Jones's gun had wounded his back. At first it was a little difficult to see how this fitted in with his being on Jones's side. Even Boxer, who seldom asked questions, was puzzled. He lay down, tucked his fore hoofs beneath him, shut his eyes, and with a hard effort managed to ulate his thoughts. I do not believe that, he said. Sb fought bravely at the Battle of the Cowshed. I saw him myself. Did we not give him 'Animal Hero, first Class,' afterwards? That was our mistake, comrade. For we k –it is written down in the secret documents that we have found–that in reality he was trying to lure us to our doom. But he was wounded, said Boxer. We saw him running with blood. ExpertModernAdvice.com is sending this newsletter on behalf Inception Media, LLC. Inception Media, LLC appreciates your comments and inquiries. Please keep in mind, that Inception Media, LLC are not permitted to provide individualized financial аdvіsе. This email is not financial advice and any investment decіsіоn you make is solely your responsibility. 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