MR. JONES, of the Manor Farm, had locked the hen−houses for the night, but was too drunk to
remember to shut the popholes. With the ring of light from his lantern dancing from side to side, he
lurched across the yard, kicked off his boots at the back door, drew himself a last glass of beer from
the barrel in the scullery, and made his way up to bed, where Mrs. Jones was already snoring.
As soon as the light in the bedroom went out there was a stirring and a fluttering all through the farm
buildings. Word had gone round during the day that old Major, the prize Middle White boar, had had
a strange dream on the previous night and wished to communicate it to the other animals. It had been
agreed that they should all meet in the big barn as soon as Mr. Jones was safely out of the way. Old
Major (so he was always called, though the name under which he had been exhibited was Willingdon
Beauty) was so highly regarded on the farm that everyone was quite ready to lose an hour's sleep in
order to hear what he had to say.
At one end of the big barn, on a sort of raised platform, Major was already ensconced on his bed of
straw, under a lantern which hung from a beam. He was twelve years old and had lately grown rather
stout, but he was still a majestic−looking pig, with a wise and benevolent appearance in spite of the
fact that his tushes had never been cut. Before long the other animals began to arrive and make
themselves comfortable after their different fashions. First came the three dogs, Bluebell, Jessie, and
Pincher, and then the pigs, who settled down in the straw immediately in front of the platform. The
hens perched themselves on the window−sills, the pigeons fluttered up to the rafters, the sheep and
cows lay down behind the pigs and began to chew the cud. The two cart−horses, Boxer and Clover,
came in together, walking very slowly and setting down their vast hairy hoofs with great care lest
there should be some small animal concealed in the straw. Clover was a stout motherly mare
approaching middle life, who had never quite got her figure back after her fourth foal. Boxer was an
enormous beast, nearly eighteen hands high, and as strong as any two ordinary horses put together. A
white stripe down his nose gave him a somewhat stupid appearance, and in fact he was not of
first−rate intelligence, but he was universally respected for his steadiness of character and
tremendous powers of work. After the horses came Muriel, the white goat, and Benjamin, the
donkey. Benjamin was the oldest animal on the farm, and the worst tempered. He seldom talked, and
when he did, it was usually to make some cynical remark−for instance, he would say that God had
given him a tail to keep the flies off, but that he would sooner have had no tail and no flies. Alone
Animal Farm 1
among the animals on the farm he never laughed. If asked why, he would say that he saw nothing to
laugh at. Nevertheless, without openly admitting it, he was devoted to Boxer; the two of them usually
