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This stock is one of those rare finds that you can hold forever and pass down to your grandchildren. It should be a core position in every investor's portfolio. [СІісk hеrе for more about this little-known іnсomе stock gem.]( Sincerely, [Tim Plaehn] Tim Plaehn Former U.S. Air Force Captain Lead Inсоmе Analyst Investors Alley P.S. In this zero interest rаtе environment, consistent and safe high yields can be tough to come by. But this dividend stock is a rare exception with 8 years of superior dividend growth. 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.     That was part of the arrangement! cried Squealer. Jones's shot grazed him. I could show you this in his own writing, if you were able to read it. The plot was for Sb, at the critical moment, to give the signal for flight and the field to the enemy. And he very nearly succeeded–I will even say, comrades, he would have succeeded if it had not been for our heroic Leader, Comrade Napoleon. Do you not remember how, just at the moment when Jones and his men had got inside the yard, Sb suddenly turned and fled, and many animals followed him? And do you not remember, too, that it was just at that moment, when panic was spreading and seemed lost, that Comrade Napoleon sprang forward with a cry of 'Death to ity!' and sank his teeth in Jones's leg? Surely you remember that, comrades? exclaimed Squealer, frisking from side to side. when Squealer described the scene so graphicy, it seemed to the animals that they did remember it. At any , they remembered that at the critical moment of the battle Sb had turned to flee. But Boxer was still a little uneasy. I do not believe that Sb was a traitor at the beginning, he said finy. What he has done since is different. But I believe that at the Battle of the Cowshed he was a good comrade. Our Leader, Comrade Napoleon, announced Squealer, speaking very slowly and firmly, has stated categoricy–categoricy, comrade–that Sb was Jones's agent from the very beginning–yes, and from long before the Rebellion was ever thought of. Ah, that is different! said Boxer. If Comrade Napoleon says it, it must be right. That is the true spirit, comrade! cried Squealer, but it was noticed he cast a very ugly look at Boxer with his little twinkling eyes. He turned to go, then paused and added impressively: I warn every animal on this farm to keep his eyes very wide . For we have reason to think that some of Sb's secret agents are lurking among us at this moment! Four days later, in the late afternoon, Napoleoned the animals to assemble in the yard. When they were gatd toher, Napoleon emerged from the farmhouse, wearing both his medals (for he had recently awarded himself Animal Hero, First Class, and Animal Hero, Second Class), with his nine huge dogs frisking round him and uttering growls that sent shivers down the animals' spines. They cowered silently in their places, seeming to k in advance that some terrible thing was about to happen. Napoleon stood sternly surveying his audience; then he uttered a high-pitched whimper. the dogs bounded forward, seized four of the pigs by the ear and dragged them, squealing with pain and terror, to Napoleon's feet. The pigs' ears were bleeding, the dogs had tasted blood, and for a few moments they appeared to go quite mad. To the amazement of everybody, three of them flung themselves upon Boxer. Boxer saw them coming and put out his hoof, caught a dog in mid-air, and pinned him to the ground. The dog shrieked for mercy and the other two fled with their tails between their legs. Boxer looked at Napoleon to k whether he should crush the dog to death or let it go. Napoleon appeared to change countenance, and sharplyed Boxer to let the dog go, wat Boxer lifted his hoof, and the dog slunk away, bruised and howling. the tumult died down. The four pigs waited, trembling, with guilt written on every line of their countenances. Napoleon ced upon them to confess their crimes. They were the same four pigs as had protested when Napoleon abolished the Sunday Meetings. Without any further prompting they confessed that they had been secretly in touch with Sb ever since his expulsion, that they had collabod with him in destroying the windmill, and that they had entered into an agreement with him to hand over Animal Farm to Mr. Frederick. They added that Sb had privately admitted to them that he had been Jones's secret agent for years past. When they had finished their confession, the dogs promptly tore their throats out, and in a terrible voice Napoleon demanded whether any other animal had anything to confess. The three hens who had been the ringleaders in the attempted rebellion over the eggs came forward and stated that Sb had appeared to them in a dream and incited them to disobey Napoleon'ss. They, too, were slaughtered. Then a goose came forward and confessed to having secreted six ears of corn during the last year's harvest and eaten them in the night. Then a sheep confessed to having urinated in the drinking pool–urged to do this, so she said, by Sb–and two other sheep confessed to having murdered an old ram, an especiy devoted follower of Napoleon, by chasing him round and round a bonfire when he was suffering from a cough. They were slain on the spot. And so the tale of confessions and executions went on, until t was a pile of corpses lying before Napoleon's feet and the air was heavy with the smell of blood, which had been unkn t since the expulsion of Jones. When it was over, the remaining animals, except for the pigs and dogs, crept away in a body. They were shaken and miserable. They did not k which was more shocking–the treachery of the animals who had leagued themselves with Sb, or the cruel retribution they had just witnessed. In the old days t had often been scenes of bloodshed equy terrible, but it seemed to of them that it was far worse that it was happening among themselves. Since Jones had left the farm, until , no animal had killed another animal. Not even a rat had been killed. They had made their way on to the little knoll w the half-finished windmill stood, and with one accord they lay down as though huddling toher for warmth–Clover, Muriel, Benjamin, the cows, the sheep, and a whole flock of geese and hens–everyone, indeed, except the cat, who had suddenly disappeared just before Napoleoned the animals to assemble. For some time nobody spoke. Boxer remained on his feet. He fided to and fro, swishing his long black tail against his sides and occasiony uttering a little whinny of surprise. Finy he said: I do not understand it. I would not have believed that such things could happen on our farm. It must be due to some fault in ourselves. The , as I see it, is to work harder. From onwards I sh up a full hour earlier in the mornings. And he moved at his lumbering trot and made for the quarry. Having got t, he ed two sive loads of stone and dragged them down to the windmill before retiring for the night. The animals huddled about Clover, not speaking. The knoll w they were lying gave them a wide prospect across the countryside. Most of Animal Farm was within their view–the long pasture stretching down to the main road, the hayfield, the spinney, the drinking pool, the ploughed fields w the young wheat was thick and green, and the red roofs of the farm buildings with the smoke curling from the chimneys. It was a clear spring evening. The grass and the bursting hedges were gilded by the level rays of the sun. had the farm–and with a kind of surprise they remembered that it was their own farm, every inch of it their own property–appeared to the animals so desirable a place. As Clover looked down the hillside her eyes filled with tears. If she could have spoken her thoughts, it would have been to say that this was not what they had aimed at when they had set themselves years ago to work for the overthrow of the race. These scenes of terror and slaughter were not what they had looked forward to on that night when old Major first stirred them to rebellion. If she herself had had any picture of the future, it had been of a society of animals set from hunger and the whip, equal, each working according to his capacity, the strong protecting the weak, as she had protected the lost brood of ducklings with her foreleg on the night of Major's speech. Instead–she did not k why–they had come to a time when no one dared speak his mind, when fierce, growling dogs roamed everyw, and when you had to watch your comrades torn to pieces after confessing to shocking crimes. T was no thought of rebellion or disobedience in her mind. She k that, even as things were, they were far better than they had been in the days of Jones, and that before else it was needful to prevent the return of the beings. Whatever happened she would remain faithful, work hard, carry out thes that were given to her, and accept the leadership of Napoleon. But still, it was not for this that she and the other animals had hoped and toiled. It was not for this that they had built the windmill and faced the bullets of Jones's gun. Such were her thoughts, though she lacked the words to express them. At last, feeling this to be in some way a substitute for the words she was unable to find, she began to sing Beasts of England. The other animals sitting round her took it up, and they sang it three times over–very tunefully, but slowly and mournfully, in a way they had sung it before. They had just finished singing it for the third time when Squealer, attended by two dogs, approached them with the air of having something important to say. He announced that, by a special decree of Comrade Napoleon, Beasts of England had been abolished. From onwards it was forbidden to sing it. The animals were taken aback. Why? cried Muriel. It's no longer needed, comrade, said Squealer stiffly. Beasts of England was the song of the Rebellion. But the Rebellion is completed. The execution of the traitors this afternoon was the final . The enemy both external and internal has been defeated. In Beasts of England we expressed our longing for a better society in days to come. But that society has been established. Clearly this song has no longer any purpose. Frightened though they were, some of the animals might possibly have protested, but at this moment the sheep set up their usual bleating of Four legs good, two legs bad, which went on for several minutes and put an end to the discussion. So Beasts of England was heard no more. In its place Minimus, the poet, had composed another song which began: Animal Farm, Animal Farm, through me shalt thou come to harm! and this was sung every Sunday morning after the hoisting of the flag. But somehow neither the words nor the tune ever seemed to the animals to come up to Beasts of England.   ExpertModernAdvice.com brought to you by Inception Media Group. This editorial email with educational news was sent to {EMAIL}. IMG appreciates your comments and inquiries. Please keep in mind, that Inception Media Group are not permitted to provide individualized financial аdvіsе. This email is not financial advice and any investment decіsіоn 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 marketing communication from us. 312 W 2nd St Casper, WY 82601 2023 IMG Group. AІІ rights reserved