Years passed.
The seasons came and went.
The short animal lives fled by.
A time came when there was no one who remembered the old days before the rebellion, except Clover, Benjamin, Moses the Raven, and a number of the pigs.
Muriel was dead.
Jones, too, was dead.
He had died in an inebriate's home in another part of the county.
Snowball was forgotten.
Boxer was forgotten, except by the few who had known him.
Clover was an old stout mare now, stiff in the joints and with a tendency to roomy eyes.
She was two years past the retiring age, but in fact no animal had ever actually retired.
The talk of setting aside a corner of the pasture for superannuated animals had long since been dropped.
Napoleon was now a mature boar of twenty-four stones.
Squealer was so fat that he could with difficulty see out of his eyes.
Only old Benjamin was much the same as ever, except for being a little greyer about the muzzle, and, since Boxer's death, more morose and taciturn than ever.
There were many more creatures on the farm now, though the increase was not so great as had been expected in earlier years.
Many animals had been born to whom the rebellion was only a dim tradition, passed on by word of mouth, and others had been bought who had never heard mention of such a thing before their arrival.
The farm possessed three horses now, besides Clover.
They were fine upstanding beasts, willing workers, and good comrades, but very stupid.
None of them proved able to learn the alphabet beyond the letter B.
They accepted everything that they were told about the rebellion— and the principles of animalism, especially from Clover, for whom they had an almost filial respect, but it was doubtful whether they understood very much of it.
The farm was more prosperous now, and better organised.
It had even been enlarged by two fields which had been bought from Mr. Pilkington.
The windmill had been successfully completed at last, and the farm possessed a threshing machine and a hay elevator of its own, and various new buildings had been added to it.
Years passed.
The seasons came and went.
The short animal lives fled by.
A time came when there was no one who remembered the old days before the rebellion, except Clover, Benjamin, Moses the Raven, and a number of the pigs.
Muriel was dead.
Jones, too, was dead.
He had died in an inebriate's home in another part of the county.
Snowball was forgotten.
Boxer was forgotten, except by the few who had known him.
Clover was an old stout mare now, stiff in the joints and with a tendency to roomy eyes.
She was two years past the retiring age, but in fact no animal had ever actually retired.
The talk of setting aside a corner of the pasture for superannuated animals had long since been dropped.
Napoleon was now a mature boar of twenty-four stones.
Squealer was so fat that he could with difficulty see out of his eyes.
Only old Benjamin was much the same as ever, except for being a little greyer about the muzzle, and, since Boxer's death, more morose and taciturn than ever.
There were many more creatures on the farm now, though the increase was not so great as had been expected in earlier years.
Many animals had been born to whom the rebellion was only a dim tradition, passed on by word of mouth, and others had been bought who had never heard mention of such a thing before their arrival.
The farm possessed three horses now, besides Clover.
They were fine upstanding beasts, willing workers, and good comrades, but very stupid.
None of them proved able to learn the alphabet beyond the letter B.
They accepted everything that they were told about the rebellion— and the principles of animalism, especially from Clover, for whom they had an almost filial respect, but it was doubtful whether they understood very much of it.
The farm was more prosperous now, and better organised.
It had even been enlarged by two fields which had been bought from Mr. Pilkington.
The windmill had been successfully completed at last, and the farm possessed a threshing machine and a hay elevator of its own, and various new buildings had been added to it.
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