3 Dividend Stocks to Buy and Hold Forever 📊🔒

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘳𝘢 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵! [Main logotype Expert Modern Advice](       3 Dividend Stocks to Вuy and Hold Forever (for a lіfеtіmе of іnсоmе) I've dug through the over 3,000 dividend stocks on the market to pinpoint [3 stocks I believe you should buу and hold forever.]( I expect them to increase their dividend payouts in the years to come... so BUYING NОW means you could be picking up shares at an аmаzіng prісе. - Gеt them at a dіsсоunt: Dividend stocks are about to recover from the 2020 crash, meaning there's still time to gеt shares at a better prісе than most did in 2019. - Grow yоur іnсоmе each month without lifting a finger: As these 3 stocks grow their dividends, you соllесt more іnсоmе without investing more саsh. - Give yourself more time and frееdоm: I believe you could buу and hold these 3 stocks forever. Meaning, no wild trading or timing the market. [See these 3 stocks nоw.]( The оppоrtunіtу to buу these 3 stocks at their low prісеs is ending sооn. [Сlісk hеrе to сlаіm the rеpоrt on thеsе 3 buу-аnd-hоld dіvіdend stocks set to grow their pауouts.]( [Tim Plaehn] Tim Plaehn Editor of 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝐻𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟 P.S. When you go see these 3 stocks, I also have a bоnus report to share with you, The 36-Month Accelerated Inсоmе Plan to Рау Your Віlls for Lіfе. This is my #1 strategy to turn a small 💲25k stake into an іnсоmе stream that pays your bіlls each month. 👉 [Go hеrе to see this 2nd report.](   But before we go any further I must tell you what Next Door looked like. It was a very grand house, by far the grandest in Cherry-Tree Lane. Even Admiral Boom had been kn to envy Miss Lark her house, though his own had ship's funnels instead of chimneys and a flagstaff in the front garden. Over and over again the inhabitants of the Lane heard him say, as he rolled past Miss Lark's mansion: Blast my gizzard! What does she want with a house like that? And the reason of Admiral Boom's jealousy was that Miss Lark had two gates. One was for Miss Lark's s and relations, and the other for the Butcher and the Baker and the Milkman. Once the Baker made a mistake and came in through the gate reserved for the s and relations, and Miss Lark was so angry that she said she wouldn't have any more bread ever. But in the end she had to forgive the Baker because he was the one in the neighbourhood who made those little flat rolls with the curly twists of crust on the top. She rey liked him very much after that, however, and when he came he pulled his hat far down over his eyes so that Miss Lark might think he was somebody else. But she did. Jane and Michael always k when Miss Lark was in the garden or coming along the Lane, because she wore so many brooches and necklaces and earrings that she jingled and jangled just like a brass band. And, whe she met them, she always said the same thing: Good-morning! (or Good-afternoon! if it happened to be after luncheon), and how are we? And, if you didn't k, you would think that Andrew must be a little boy. Indeed, Jane thought that Miss Lark thought that Andrew was a little boy. But Andrew wasn't. He was a dog — one of those sm, silky, fluffy dogs that look like a fur necklet, until they begin to bark. But, of course, when they do that you k that they're dogs. No fur necklet ever made a noise like that. , Andrew led such a luxurious that you might have thought he was the Shah of Persia in disguise. He slept on a silk pillow in Miss Lark's room; he went by car to the Hairdresser's twice a week to be shampooed; he had cream for every meal and sometimes oysters, and he possessed four overcoats with checks and stripes in different colours. Andrew's ordinary days were filled with the kind of things most people have on birthdays. And when Andrew himself had a birthday he had two candles on his cake for every year, instead of one. The effect of this was to make Andrew very much disliked in the neighbourhood. People used to laugh heartily when they saw Andrew sitting up in the back seat of Miss Lark's car on the way to the Hairdresser's, with the fur rug over his knees and his best coat on. And on the day when Miss Lark bought him two pairs of sm leather boots so that he could go out in the Park wet or fine, everybody in the Lane came down to their front gates to watch him go by and to smile secretly behind their hands. Pooh! said Michael, as they were watching Andrew one day through the fence that separated Number Seventeen from Next Door. Pooh, he's a ninkypoop! How do you k? asked Jane, very interested. I k because I heard Daddy c him one this morning! said Michael, and he laughed at Andrew very rudely. He is not a nincompoop, said Mary Poppins. And that is that. And Mary Poppins was right. Andrew wasn't a nincompoop, as you will very see. You must not think he did not respect Miss Lark. He did. He was even fond of her in a mild sort of way. He couldn't help having a kindly feeling for somebody who had been so good to him ever since he was a puppy, even if she did kiss him rather too often. But t was no doubt about it that the Andrew led bored him to distraction. He would have given half his fortune, if he had one, for a nice piece of raw, red meat, instead of the usual breast of chicken or scrambled eggs with asparagus. For in his secret, innermost heart, Andrew longed to be a common dog. He passed his pedigree (which hung on the w in Miss Lark's drawing-room) without a shudder of shame. And many a time he wished he'd had a father, nor a grandfather, nor a -grandfather, if Miss Lark was going to make such a fuss of it. Andrew, Andrew, come in, my darling! Come away from those dreadful street arabs! And of course Andrew would have to come in, or Miss Lark would shame him by coming out and bringing him in. And Andrew would blush and the steps so that his s should not hear her cing him her Precious, her Joy, her Little Lump of Sugar. Andrew's most special was more than common, he was a Byword. He was half an Airedale and half a Retriever and the worst half of both. Whe t was a fight in the road he would be sure to be in the thick of it; he was always ting into trouble with the Postman or the Policeman, and t was nothing he loved better than sniffing about in drains or garbage tins. He was, in fact, the talk of the whole street, and more than one person had been heard to say thankfully that they were glad he was not their dog. But Andrew loved him and was continuy on the watch for him. Sometimes they had time to exchange a sniff in the Park, but on luckier occasions — though these were very rare — they would have long talks at the gate. From his , Andrew heard the town gossip, and you could see by the rude way in which the other dog laughed as he told it, that it wasn't very complimentary. Then suddenly Miss Lark's voice would be heard cing from a window, and the other dog would up, loll out his tongue at Miss Lark, wink at Andrew and wander , waving his hindquarters as he went just to show that he didn't care. Andrew, of course, was owed outside the gate unless he went with Miss Lark for a walk in the Park, or with one of the maids to have his toes manicured. Imagine, then, the surprise of Jane and Michael when they saw Andrew, alone, careering past them through the Park, with his ears back and his tail up as though he were on the track of a tiger. Mary Poppins pulled the perambulator up with a jerk, in case Andrew, in his wild flight, should upset it and the Twins. And Jane and Michael screamed at him as he passed. Oh no, I don't. I I don't, Mary Poppins. Do tell. Half-past three. Tea-time, said Mary Poppins, and she wheeled the perambulator round and shut her mouth tight again as though it were a trapdoor. She did not say another word the way . Jane dropped behind with Michael. It's your fault! she said. we'll k. I don't care! said Michael, and he began to push his scooter very quickly. I don't want to k. But he did want to k very badly indeed. And, as it turned out, he and Jane and everybody else k about it before tea-time. Just as they were about to cross the road to their own house, they heard loud cries coming from Next Door, and t they saw a curious sight. Miss Lark's two maids were rushing wildly about the garden, looking under bushes and up into the trees as people do who have lost their most valuable possession. And t was Robertson Ay, from Number Seventeen, busily wasting his time by poking at the gravel on Miss Lark's path with a broom as though he expected to find the missing treasure under a pebble. Miss Lark herself was running about in her garden, waving her arms and cing: Andrew, Andrew! Oh, he's lost. My darling boy is lost! We must send for the Police. I must see the Prime Minister. Andrew is lost! Oh dear! oh dear! And t, sure enough, was Andrew, walking as slowly and as casuy as though nothing in the world was the matter; and beside him waltzed a huge dog that seemed to be half an Airedale and half a Retriever, and the worst half of both. Oh, what a relief! said Miss Lark, sighing loudly. What a load my mind! Mary Poppins and the children waited in the Lane outside Miss Lark's gate, Miss Lark herself and her two maids leant over the fence, Robertson Ay, resting from his labours, propped himself up with his broom-handle, and of them watched in silence the return of Andrew. He and his marched sedately up to the group, whisking their tails jauntily and keeping their ears well cocked, and you could tell by the look in Andrew's eye that, whatever he meant, he meant business. That dreadful dog! said Miss Lark, looking at Andrew's companion. Shoo! Shoo! Go ! she cried. But the dog just sat down on the pavement and scratched his right ear with his left leg and yawned. Go away! Go ! Shoo, I say! said Miss Lark, waving her arms angrily at the dog. And you, Andrew, she went on, come indoors this minute! Going out like that — alone and without your overcoat. I am very disd with you! Andrew barked lazily, but did not move. What do you mean, Andrew? Come in at once! said Miss Lark. Andrew barked again. He says, put in Mary Poppins, that he's not coming in. Miss Lark turned and regarded her haughtily. How do you k what my dog says, may I ask? Of course he will come in. Andrew, however, merely shook his head and gave one or two low growls. He 't, said Mary Poppins. Not unless his comes, too. Stuff and nonsense, said Miss Lark crossly. That can't be what he says. As if I could have a hulking mongrel like that inside my gate. Andrew yapped three or four times. He says he means it, said Mary Poppins. And what's more, he'll go and live with his unless his is owed to come and live with him. Oh, Andrew, you can't — you can't, rey — after I've done and everything! Miss Lark was nearly weeping. Willoughby! What a ! Worse and worse! said Miss Lark despairingly. What is he saying ? For Andrew was barking again. He says that if he comes back you are to make him wear overcoats or go to the Hairdresser's again — that's his last word, said Mary Poppins. T was a pause. Very well, said Miss Lark at last. But I warn you, Andrew, if you catch your death of cold — don't blame me! And with that she turned and walked haughtily up the steps, sniffing away the last of her tears. Andrew cocked his head towards Willoughby as if to say: Come on! and the two of them waltzed side by side slowly up the garden path, waving their tails like banners, and followed Miss Lark into the house. He told me. He said his doctor said he was to do as little as possible. And I heard Daddy say if Robertson Ay does what his doctor told him to he'll sack him. Oh, how it bangs and bangs! said Jane, clutching her ear again. Hulloh! said Michael excitedly from the window. What is it? cried Jane, sitting up. Do tell me. A very extraordinary thing. T's a cow down in the Lane, said Michael, jumping up and down on the window-seat. A cow? A real cow — right in the middle of a town? How funny! Mary Poppins, said Jane, t's a cow in the Lane, Michael says. Yes, and it's walking very slowly, putting its head over every gate and looking round as though it had lost something. I wish I could see it, said Jane mournfully. Look! said Michael, pointing downwards as Mary Poppins came to the window. A cow. Isn't that funny?   Mary Poppins gave a quick, sharp glance down into the Lane. She started with surprise. Certainly not, she said, turning to Jane and Michael. It's not funny at . I k that cow. She was a of my Mother's and I'll thank you to speak politely of her. She smoothed her apron and looked at them both very severely. Have you kn her long? enquired Michael gently, hoping that if he was particularly polite he would hear something more about the cow. Since before she saw the King, said Mary Poppins. And when was that? asked Jane, in a soft encouraging voice. Mary Poppins stared into space, her eyes fixed upon something that they could not see. Jane and Michael held their breath, waiting. It was long ago, said Mary Poppins, in a brooding, story-telling voice. She paused, as though she were remembering events that happened hundreds of years before that time. Then she went on dreamily, still gazing into the middle of the room, but without seeing anything. The Red Cow — that's the she went by. And very important and prosperous she was, too (so my Mother said). She lived in field in the whole district — a large one full of buttercups the size of saucers and dandelions rather larger than brooms. The field was primrose-colour and with the buttercups and dandelions standing up in it like soldiers. Every time she ate the head one soldier, another grew up in its place, with a green military coat and a yellow busby. She had lived t always — she often told my Mother that she couldn't remember the time when she hadn't lived in that field. Her world was bounded by green hedges and the sky and she k nothing of what lay beyond these. The Red Cow was very respectable, she always behaved like a lady and she k What was What. To her a thing was either black or white — t was no question of it being grey or perhaps pink. People were good or they were bad — t was nothing in between. Dandelions were either sweet or sour — t were any moderately nice ones. She led a very busy . Her mornings were taken up in giving lessons to the Red Calf, her daughter, and in the afternoon she taught the little one deportment and mooing and the things a rey well brought up calf should k. Then they had their supper, and the Red Cow showed the Red Calf how to select a good blade of grass from a bad one; and when her child had gone to sleep at night she would go into a corner of the field and chew the cud and think her own quiet thoughts. her days were exactly the same. One Red Calf grew up and went away and another came in its place. And it was natural that the Red Cow should imagine that her would always be the same as it always had been — indeed, she felt that she could ask for nothing better than for her days to be alike till she came to the end of them. But at the very moment she was thinking these thoughts, adventure, as she afterwards told my Mother, was stalking her. It came upon her one night when the stars themselves looked like dandelions in the sky and the moon a daisy among the stars. On this night, long after the Red Calf was asleep, the Red Cow stood up suddenly and began to dance. She danced wildly and beautifully and in time, though she had no music to go by. Sometimes it was a polka, sometimes a Highland Fling and sometimes a special dance that she made up out of her own head. And in between these dances she would curtsey and make sweeping bows and knock her head against the dandelions. Dear me! said the Red Cow to herself, as she began on a Sailor's Hornpipe. What an extraordinary thing! I always thought dancing improper, but it can't be since I myself am dancing. For I ama model cow. And she went on dancing, and thoroughly enjoying herself. At last, however, she grew tired and decided that she had danced enough and that she would go to sleep. But, to her surprise, she found that she could not dancing. When she went to lie down beside the Red Calf, her legs would not let her. They went on capering and prancing and, of course, carrying her with them. Round and round the field she went, leaping and waltzing and stepping on tip-toe. Dear me! she murmured at intervals with a ladylike accent. How very peculiar! But she couldn't . In the morning she was still dancing and the Red Calf had to take its breakfast of dandelions by itself because the Red Cow could not remain still enough to eat. through the day she danced, up and down the meadow and round and round the meadow, with the Red Calf mooing piteously behind her. When the second night came, and she was still at it and still could not , she grew very worried. And at the end of a week of dancing she was nearly distracted. I must go and see the King about it, she decided, shaking her head. So she kissed her Red Calf and told it to be good. Then she turned and danced out of the meadow and went to tell the King. She danced the way, snatching little sprays of green food from the hedges as she went, and every eye that saw her stared with astonishment. But none of them were more astonished than the Red Cow herself. At last she came to the Palace w the King lived. She pulled the bell-rope with her mouth, and when the gate ed she danced through it and up the broad garden path till she came to the flight of steps that led to the King's throne. Upon this the King was sitting, busily making a set of Laws. His Secretary was writing themdown in a little red note-book, one after another, as the King thought of them. T were Courtiers and Ladies-in-Waiting everyw, very gorgeously dressed and talking at once. How many have I made ? asked the King, turning to the Secretary. The Secretary counted the Laws he had written down in the red note-book. Seventy-two, your Majesty, he said, bowing low and taking care not to trip over his quill pen, which was a very large one. H'm. Not bad for an hour's work, said the King, looking very d with himself. That's enough for . He stood up and arranged his ermine cloak very tastefully. my coach. I must go to the Barber's, he said magnificently. It was then that he noticed the Red Cow approaching. He sat down again and took up his sceptre. What have we , ho? he demanded, as the Red Cow danced to the foot of the steps. A Cow, your Majesty! she answered simply. I have tried, your Majesty. And I can't. I've been dancing for seven days running. And I've had no sleep. And very little to eat. A white-thorn spray or two — that's . So I've come to ask your advice. H'm — very curious, said the King, pushing the crown on one side and scratching his head. Very curious, said the Courtiers, scratching their heads, too. What does it feel like? asked the King. Funny, said the Red Cow. And yet, she paused, as if choosing her words, it's rather a pleasant feeling, too. As if laughter were running up and down inside me. Extraordinary, said the King, and he put his chin on his hand and stared at the Red Cow, pondering on what was thing to do. Suddenly he sprang to his feet and said: Good gracious! What is it? cried the Courtiers. Why, don't you see? said the King, ting very excited and dropping his sceptre. What an idiot I was not to have noticed it before. And what idiots you were! He turned furiously upon the Courtiers. Don't you see that t's a fen star caught on her horn? So t is! cried the Courtiers, as they suddenly noticed the star for the first time. And as they looked it seemed to them that the star grew brighter. That's what's wrong! said the King. , you Courtiers had better pull it so that this — er —lady can dancing and have some breakfast. It's the star, madam, that is making you dance, he said to the Red Cow. , come along, you! And he motioned to the Chief Courtier, who presented himself smartly before the Red Cow and began to tug at the star. It would not come . The Chief Courtier was joined by one after another of the other Courtiers, until at last t was a long chain of them, each holding the man in front of him by the waist, and a tug-of-war began between the Courtiers and the star. Mind my head! entreated the Red Cow. Pull harder! roared the King. They pulled harder. They pulled until their faces were red as raspberries. They pulled till they could pull no longer and fell back, one on top of the other. The star did not move. It remained firmly fixed to the horn. The King rubbed his chin, because that helped him to think. He sighed irritably and looked at the Red Cow. I can say, he said, is that you'd better try that too. Try what? said the Red Cow. Jumping over the moon. It might have an effect. Worth trying, anyway. Me? said the Red Cow, with an outraged stare. Yes, you — who else? said the King impatiently. He was anxious to to the Barber's. Sire, said the Red Cow, I beg you to remember that I am a decent, respectable animal and have been taught from my infancy that jumping was no occupation for a lady. The King stood up and shook his sceptre at her. Madam, he said, you came for my advice and I have given it to you. Do you want to go on dancing for ever? Do you want to go hungry for ever? Do you want to go sleepless for ever? The Red Cow thought of the lush sweet taste of dandelions. She thought of meadow grass and how soft it was to lie on. She thought of her weary capering legs and how nice it would be to rest them. And she said to herself: Perhaps, just for once, it wouldn't matter and nobody — except the King — need The Red Cow, drawing in her breath, gave one huge tremendous jump and the earth fell away beneath her. She could see the figures of the King and the Courtiers growing smer and smer until they disappeared below. She herself shot upwards through the sky, with the stars spinning around her like en plates, and , in blinding light, she felt the cold rays of the moon upon her. She shut her eyes as she went over it, and as the dazzling gleam passed behind her and she bent her head towards the earth again, she felt the star slip down her horn. With a rush it fell and went rolling down the sky. And it seemed to her that as it disappeared into the darkness chords of music came from it and echoed through the air. In another minute the Red Cow had landed on the earth again. To her surprise she found that she was not in the King's garden but in her own dandelion field. And she had ped dancing! Her feet were as steady as though they were made of stone and she walked as sedately as any other respectable cow. Quietly and serenely she moved across the field, beheading her en soldiers as she went to greet the Red Calf. I'm so glad you're back! said the Red Calf. I've been so lonely. The Red Cow kissed it and fell to munching the meadow. It was her first good meal for a week. And by the time her hunger was satisfied she had eaten up several regiments. After that she felt better. She began to live her just exactly as she had lived it before. At first she enjoyed her quiet regular habits very much, and was glad to be able to eat her breakfast without dancing and to lie down in the grass and sleep at night instead of curtseying to the moon until the morning. And that, I suppose, is why she was walking down Cherry-Tree Lane, Jane prompted gently. Yes, whispered Michael, she was looking for her star. Mary Poppins sat up with a little start. The intent look had gone from her eyes and the stillness fromher body. Come down from that window at once, sir! she said crossly. I am going to turn on the lights. And she hurried across the landing to the electric light switch. Michael! said Jane in a careful whisper. Just have one look and see if the cow's still t. Hurriedly Michael peered out through the gathering dusk. Quickly! said Jane. Mary Poppins will be back in one minute. Can you see her? No-o-o, said Michael, staring out. Not a sign of her. She's gone. I do hope she finds it! said Jane, thinking of the Red Cow roaming through the world looking for a star to stick on her horn. So do I, said Michael as, at the sound of Mary Poppins's returning footsteps, he hurriedly pulled down the blind… I meant to, said Michael calmly. Ellen's red face went quite white with surprise. Meant to? You meant—well, then, you're a very bad heathen boy, and I'll tell your Ma, so I will— Do, said Michael, and he went on down the stairs. Well, that was the beginning of it. Throughout the rest of the day nothing went right with him. The hot, heavy feeling inside him made him do the most awful things, and as as he'd done them he felt extraordinarily d and glad and thought out some more at once. In the kitchen Mrs. Brill, the cook, was making scones. No, Master Michael, she said, you can't scrape out the basin. It's not empty yet. And at that he let out his foot and kicked Mrs. Brill very hard on the shin, so that she dropped the rolling-pin and screamed aloud. You kicked Mrs. Brill? Kind Mrs. Brill? I'm ashamed of you, said his Mother a few minutes later when Mrs. Brill had told her the whole story. You must beg her pardon at once. Say you're sorry, Michael! Through the bars of the fence he could see Miss Lark's Andrew daintily sniffing at the Next Door lawn and choosing for himself blades of grass. He ced softly to Andrew and gave him a biscuit out of his own pocket, and while Andrew was munching it he tied Andrew's tail to the fence with a piece of string. Then he ran away with Miss Lark's angry, outraged voice screaming in his ears, and his body almost bursting with the exciting weight of that heavy thing inside him. The door of his Father's study stood — for Ellen had just been dusting the books. So Michael did a forbidden thing. He went in, sat down at his Father's desk, and with his Father's pen began to scribble on the blotter. Suddenly his elbow, knocking against the inkpot, upset it, and the chair and the desk and the quill pen and his own best clothes were covered with spreading stains of blue ink. It looked dreadful, and fear of what would happen to him stirred within Michael. But, in spite of that, he didn't care — he didn't feel the least bit sorry. That child must be ill, said Mrs. Banks, when she was told by Ellen — who suddenly returned and discovered him — of the latest adventure. Michael, you sh have some syrup of figs. I'm not ill. I'm weller than you, said Michael rudely. Then you're simply naughty, said his Mother. And you sh be punished. And, sure enough, five minutes later, Michael found himself standing in his stained clothes in a corner of the nursery, facing the w. Jane tried to speak to him when Mary Poppins was not looking, but he would not answer, and put out his tongue at her. When John and Barbara crawled along the floor and each took hold of one of his shoes and gurgled, he just pushed them roughly away. And the time he was enjoying his badness, hugging it to him as though it were a , and not caring a bit. I hate being good, he said aloud to himself, as he trailed after Mary Poppins and Jane and the perambulator on the afternoon walk to the Park. Don't dawdle, said Mary Poppins, looking back at him. But he went on dawdling and dragging the sides of his shoes along the pavement in to scratch the leather.   This message from Investors Alley is being sent in full accordance with the CAN-SPAM Act. We respect your privacy and, therefore, this email was sent directly from Investors Alley. Please review our [Privacy Statement and Terms of Use](.   ExpertModernAdvice.com is sending this newsletter on behalf Inception Media, LLC. Inception Media, LLC appreciates your comments and inquiries. 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