It's now time for a member's statements. I recognize the member for Niagara West. I had the privilege of attending two services of remembrance in my riding of Niagara West last week including ceremonies in Font Hill and Jordan. I want to thank the local local legions in my riding including branches 127 and Grimthee 612 in Beansville and Jordan 613 in Font Hill and 393 in Smithville as well as the township of Wayne Fleet for hosting meaningful tributes. A little over a hundred years ago following the First World War as Canadians gathered at warm memorials like the Senators in Niagara West last Friday, many considered it unimaginable that the bloodshed of that great conflict would ever be repeated. It was called the war to end all wars and yet a short generation later the world was once again plunged into a struggle against the hateful ideology of fascism in defense of the democratic values and human rights that we hold dear. Throughout the 20th century time and time again the call to arms was issued and young men and women in uniform across Canada and Ontario including members of First Nations, Inuit and M.A.T. communities died for freedom and perhaps many of us today consider it inconceivable that we would ever again enter into such terrifying conflicts and yet even today our northern neighbour the Russian Federation is an aggressor state pursuing its illegal invasion of Ukraine against the pleading of civilians and the cries of humanity. Once again war has returned to European soil and we are again reminded of the need to ever stand on guard. As a descendant of those who emigrated to this country because of the sacrifice and heroism of Canadian soldiers including those who liberated the Netherlands, my family and I are personally grateful to those who have and continue to fight for freedom and democracy. Last Friday, as we should every day, we remembered those who fought and died in battle. They are passing the torch to us so that the memory of their sacrifice will continue and the values they fought for will live on in all of us. May God rest their souls. Thank you Speaker. I rise today to speak about something inspiring Ontario's Labor moment. Last week we're all reminded who makes this province function and that's workers. For a long time this conservative government dismissed that but with their action of QP education workers along with their support for the entire Ontario Labor movement the government was made to pay attention. Bill 28 should never been drafted let alone introduced. It's a bill intended to break unions and attack workers. At my office in Niagara Falls we had nearly 1,000 people telling the government they were wrong. When they decided to use the notwithstanding clause to strip workers of their collective bargaining rights they woke up a giant. They united the labor movement against them from coast to coast to coast. I hope this government follows through on their promise to repeal Bill 28 immediately. But we can't walk away from the experience without holding people accountable. The Minister of Labor sits in this chamber and tells us he supports workers. He tells the labor movement that he's there for that he's our friend but when Bill 28 was introduced and voted on he was the first member to stand in a potted passing. He was happy to strip workers of their bargaining rights. He was happy to continue attack workers who are prominently women and also supported Bill 124. As Minister of Labor his role is to support workers in this province but instead he clapped for legislation that ripped basic rights away from them. For that alone it's time for the minister to resign. He never supported the labor movement and last week he proved it. Thank you very much. Member statements? Member for Cambridge. To share about a story of an award-winning, month-long festival taking place in my writing. Winterfest, formerly known as Christmas in Cambridge knocks off on November 25th with Phil Klein's Unsilent Night. This event attracts thousands of residents young and old who enjoy a musical walking tour through a historical downtown Cambridge. It's illuminated with various lights, art installations along the route. It's truly a memorable way to start your holiday season. The week leads up to the Christmas Day which we'll visit or excuse me today. A visit from the CP Holiday Train, winter ice and lights in Preston Central Park, music and lights in the village and the Cambridge Christmas Market at the David Derwood Centre and the Cambridge Centre for the Arts. I encourage everyone to go. This is one of the top 10 festivals named by the festivals and events Ontario for the past three years. If you haven't been, I encourage you to go. Thank you Mr. Speaker. Another fall migration is just winding up and over the past couple of months millions of birds have been migrating across the Great Lakes to winter in Ontario. But windows that reflect the sky and the clouds can appear invisible to a moving bird so they continue to fly at high speeds until they smack into the glass and fall to the ground. Some are rescued by compassionate people working with organizations like BirdSafe and Flap Canada but many do not survive the trauma. The bird photographer, Priya Ram Singh writes, if you walk around one of the city's large towers during the migratory season you'll find the bodies of dead birds with their feet curled up in the air. These are brilliantly coloured birds including electric blue indigo buntings, warblers with yellow green and blue wing markings and scarlet tenagers with regal red feather plumage. 25 million birds die from window collisions each year in Canada. This week I am reintroducing a motion to adopt the Canadian Standards Association 2019 bird friendly design standard into the Ontario Building Code for all new construction and retrofits in the province. At a rally on the lawn of Queens Park tomorrow at 11 30 a.m. we'll be showing Ontario residents simple measures that they can take to make their windows bird safe and to reduce the risk of collisions. I invite all members of the house and residents who want to make our built environment bird safe to attend the rally. Come help us protect Ontario's biodiversity for years to come. Thank you. Member for Perth Wellington. Mr. Speaker it's my pleasure to rise in this place to recognize the good work SE Health does in my riding and across Ontario. SE Health is a non-for-profit health care provider in Ontario. Mr. Speaker SE Health currently provides nearly 50% of all home care services in Ontario. A couple weeks ago I had the pleasure of meeting with them and representatives locally and touring the location in Palmerston. I had the opportunity to meet Kelly a community nurse in the town of Mental and Works for SE Health. She does important work to support our seniors and those recovering at home for major operations. She's also a community care nurse at Mental Clifford Public School. I had the opportunity to join her at Mental Clifford to meet some of her brave patients. No matter the need Mr. Speaker Kelly ensures her students are living a healthy and rewarding life. We had a great discussion about how best we can work together to better serve those living in our communities. I want to thank Kelly for everything she does for our rural communities and the children she helps every day. Our government is committed to helping our elderly remain in their homes longer and ensure Ontarians receive the right care in the right place. I appreciate everything SE Health does and all their employees do in my community and across Ontario. Thank you Mr. Speaker. Member Statements, the Member for Nickel Belt. Thank you Speaker. I rise today to speak about the important work that nurse practitioners do serving patients in every corner of our province and why we need this government to fund more nurse practitioners position. At a time when many family physicians are retiring, patients across Ontario lose access to primary care, leaving them dependent on walking clinics or emergency department. Meanwhile, Aboriginal Health Access Centre, Community Health Centre, nurse practitioner led clinics all have nurse practitioners that want to be higher, that are available, but they have no money to hire them. These nurse practitioners can assess, they can treat, they can advise patients with complex medical condition who otherwise end up in our crowded emergency room. Unfortunately, this government refuses to modernize their antiquated funding model so nurse practitioners can be hired to provide the excellent services to more patients. For example, an executive director in a nurse practitioner led clinic has to be a nurse practitioner, but she still has to carry 800 patients load, roster and her administrative duty in that clinic. In fact, this funding model is so rigid that the government claims that they are still working on the paperwork to provide nurses working in these clinics with the retention bonus that was promised nine months ago. If the government wants to improve access to healthcare services to thousands of people across Ontario, invest in nurse practitioner position, it will pay off. Thank you, Speaker. Thank you, Member Statements, the Member for Mississauga, Erin Mills. Mr. Speaker, last Tuesday I was pleased to join the Honourable Solicitor General at Peel Region Police Headquarters in Mississauga. Alongside Chief Nishand Rabba, who I commend for being recently appointed to the Order of Ontario, we kick off the Crime Prevention Week, an opportunity for all Ontarians to recognize the important men and women in uniform who sacrifice so much to protect our communities. Organizations present included the Ontario Association of Chief of Police, Safe City Mississauga, Empowering Against Exhabilitation, Vision Zero and Peel Crime Stoppers. Additionally, on November 4th, myself and many of our colleagues welcomed Deputy Chief Nick Milovich and Surgeon Earl Scott here in Queensborough to recognize them for the $25 million drug seizure, one of the largest in Beale police history. Mr. Speaker, one of the foremost priorities for people and businesses in Ontario is to feel safe and comfortable in their city. I want to recognize the important role that low enforcement officials play in keeping our province safe and protected, our most vulnerable. Crucial to this process is a strong relationship between low enforcement and local communities, working hand in hand to ensure safe and prosperous society. While Mississauga is one of the safest city in Canada, we are nevertheless seeing a rise in car theft and pharmacy hold-ups. We will continue to work with Peel Police to support them and allow them the resources to prevent crime. This partnership between police, community and government is a relationship we cannot afford to foresee. Thank you, Mr. Speaker. Thank you very much, Speaker, and I'd like to say a few words and tribute to Dr. Barry Adams, a pediatrician from Ottawa, who was my pediatrician and my child's, my children's pediatrician, and in fact the pediatrician for thousands and thousands and thousands of families over his long career. Barry was an incredible, gentle, warm, kind person. He was always available. He was a big proponent of our Children's Hospital of Eastern Ontario, and I wanted to spend all this time talking about his accolades, but his accolades are actually the thousands and thousands and thousands of families whose lives he touched and improved by his work. I was thinking about what Barry would have had to say today, if you were alive, about what's happening at the Children's Hospital in Ontario and with our children in this province. Barry could be very kind and very gentle, but he could also be very stern. And what he would be asking us is, why is there this indifference to what's happening to our children? Why are we not masking? Why are we not making sure we're all vaccinated and their kids are vaccinated? You know, Barry was a physician who was old enough to know when measles outbreaks occurred and he was always astonished at the efficacy of the vaccine and how it was almost non-existent. So Speaker, I think we should learn from Dr. Barry Adams's example that our children are important and that right now there are some things that we need to do to protect our children. We should be doing them masking, vaccination, washing our hands and staying home when we're sick. Thank you Speaker. Member Statements. The Member for Central Grade. Thank you Speaker. It's a pleasure to rise in the House this morning. Speaker, last week we spent time in our collective writings honouring and remembering our veterans as we proudly wore our poppies and attended Remembrance Day services. And Mr. Speaker, I'd like to pay tribute today in my comments about the Royal Canadian legions that pepper our writings and our communities across the province. In my writing of Simcoe Gray, there are 12 legions and each branch has a proud history of supporting veterans and serving the communities. They act as community hubs, they host important civic events from Veterans Week events to political events and from community events to private celebrations. Alison, Angus, Beaton, Collingwood, Cremor, Everett, Lyle, Nulol, Stainer, Thornbury, Tottenham and Wassega Beach all have thriving active legions that serve these communities. And on Saturday, November 5th, I had a great opportunity to spend a night at the Collingwood Legion in a dinner in honour of our veterans in preparation for Remembrance Day. And as I sat in the facility, I was reminded that during the pandemic, the Collingwood Legion served as the overflow facility for the Collingwood Marine and General Hospital. 18 beds, it served a vital purpose as an overflow unit and during a number of the waves had many beds filled. And that was one way that a Legion can help work with our communities, collaborate with our communities to support them. Last Friday on Remembrance Day, I had the privilege of going to Alison Legion and sitting with Albert, one of the last remaining World War II veterans. He's 98 and his hearing isn't great but we had a wonderful conversation and so it's wonderful to be able to rise and pay tribute to our veterans like Albert. And during the course of that meal, I was reminded by the Speaker there that the Alaston Legion had received a vital grant from the Ontario Trillium Foundation for much necessary capital improvements. These facilities serve our writings and I want to thank the executives and presidents of each of the legions for their great work. Thank you Speaker. Her honour, Elizabeth Dodds, well the Lieutenant Governor will bestow the province's highest honour to the new Order of Interior appointees on November 21st, 2022. One of those appointees, Speaker, is Dr. Angela Brathway from Whitby. Over nearly five decades as a nurse, Dr. Brathway has launched initiatives to promote nursing education, improve women and children's health, and address racism in a nursing profession. Speaker, in announcing the appointees, Her honour said this, their service to our province is a reminder to all of us fortunate enough to call Ontario home that the fabric of society is a knit together by the good deeds and dedication of individuals. May their accomplishments be an inspiration, an example for many to follow. Congratulations to Dr. Brathway. Your dedication, drive and lifetime of service is an inspiration to everyone in Whitby and other parts of the region of Durham who aspire to build better communities. And Speaker, a stronger Ontario. Thank you. Thank you. That concludes the time for the 92nd Member's Statements.


Hollywood, California, Monday, November 23rd. The Lux Radio Theatre presents Paul Muney in the story of Louis Pasteur with Fritz Leiber and Crawford Kent. Lux presents Hollywood. Our stars, Paul Muney, Fritz Leiber, Crawford Kent, and Barbara Luddy. Our guests, Adrian, Hollywood's most noted designer and William K. Howard director. Our producer, Cecil B. DeMille. Our conductor, Louis Silvers. The makers of Lux Flakes, together with our stars and guests, welcome you all to another hour in the Lux Radio Theatre. Here's a word to the ladies. Try Lux Flakes for washing dishes. Ordinary soaps often dry your skin, making it rough and red, and making the nails brittle. Lux Flakes contain no harmful alkali.  Lux Flakes are just as good for washing dishes as for washing fine fabrics, and that's saying a lot. And now it's time to hear from our producer. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Cecil B. DeMille. Greetings from Hollywood, ladies and gentlemen. Paul Muney is a paragon of paradoxes. Born in Vienna, he doesn't waltz. Trained in the Yiddish Art Theatre, he's been playing the role of a Chinese and the good earth for the past six months. At the age of 11, Mr. Muney went on the stage in the part of a bent and withered old man. The whiskers he wore were obviously false, but he grew his own beard for the story of Louis Pasteur, and here are some side lights on his sidelines. He plays the violin and talks to strangers for relaxation. He rehearses all his lines into a dictophone to study his own inflections. He experiments with makeup at home and obtains material for his characterization's first hand. In other words, if he's playing the part of a Chinese, he spends a great deal of his time in the Chinese quarter. And if he's to be a gangster on the screen, he mingles with the gangster element. And if he's a scientist, he reads everything available on the science he's supposed to represent. It's nearly two years since Mr. Muney's last appearance on the air. Then as tonight, he was heard from the Lux Radio Theatre and starred in his favorite stage play, Counselor at Law. Tonight, we hear him in his favorite screen play, The Story of Louis Pasteur. The part of Dr. Chabonet is played by the same distinguished performer who enacted it on the screen. Mr. Fritz Leiber, Crawford Kent, will be heard as Dr. Radice. Louis Silvers raises his baton to start the music as the Lux Radio Theatre presents the story of Louis Pasteur starring Paul Muney. Paris in the 1860s. We're in the laboratory of Louis Pasteur. The long sparsely furnished room is lined with deep shadows. Along the walls stand crates of guinea pigs and squeaking mice. And in the center, a crudely built table is littered with twisted test tubes and cauldrons. It's early evening. Under the garish light of an overhanging lamp, Pasteur leans over his microscope. His eyes glued to the black cylinder. His wife enters the room and stands for a moment watching him. Louis. Yes? Haven't you worked long enough? Aren't you tired? Tired? You've been here all day since early this morning. I know, I know. Uh, who? Yes? Uh, have you finished with those slides? In a moment, measure. Hurry them along. Louis, I brought the newspaper for you. The newspaper? What do I want with it? There's something in it you should know. Dr. Frederick is dead. Dead? He, he was killed, shot. Oh, did it? The husband of one of his patients. Listen.  He gave her fever, childbed fever. Then the prisoner produced a pamphlet which read, doctors, surgeons, wash your hands, boil your instruments, microbes cause disease. The pamphlet was signed. Louis Pasteur. Hmm, my pamphlet. Louis, don't you know what it means? They're blaming you for the death of Dr. Frederick. Nonsense. They are. Dr. Charbonnet, Dr. Reddice, all of them. They call you a murderer, a menace to science.  If they should appeal to the emperor. Let them.  Look at the facts, Marie. Three out of every ten mothers today die in childbirth. Why? Because our learned physicians are too pigheaded to realize that germs have the power to invade the bloodstream and cause disease. But Louis, you tell them to wash their hands, boil their instruments. Still, you can't be sure. You haven't found the germ. But I will. I will. Papa. Oh, what is it, Annette? A letter for Papa. A messenger bought in the carriage. There were two soldiers with him. Louis. Give me the letter. It's from the emperor. The emperor? Then it's just as I thought. Charbonnet and Reddice have gone to him. Quiet, my dear. It's not as you thought. Listen to this. At the request of the court chamberlain and the command of his Majesty Napoleon III, you are invited to a reception at the palace. Oh, Louis. A carriage will be sent for you at eight o'clock next Thursday. A reception at the palace? Louis, what an honor. It is my chance, Marie. Reddice, Charbonnet, Rossignol. They'll all be there. It is my chance at last. Your Majesty, this man pastor is not even a doctor. He's a mere chemist. I know Charbonnet, but his work interests the Empress. It was at her suggestion that I invited him tonight. Yes, Dr. Charbonnet. If I am not mistaken, pastor was instrumental in discovering the cause of fermentation of wine some years ago. Yes, Your Majesty. I recall it now. He claimed to have discovered little animals in it, infinitesimal beasts. And he still does, Sire. Only now he finds them everywhere. But are there such creatures? Do they really exist? Your Majesty, microscopic organisms have long been observed. Yes. They spring into being of their own accord, wherever there is putrid matter or fermentation. They are the result rather than the cause of disease. Oh, I see. By heating wine to certain temperature, monsieur pastor was able to destroy them.  Heaven forbid. It's not unlikely, I assure you. Dr. Charbonnet, I'm afraid you exaggerate. I too have read pastor's pamphlet. It says nothing about boiling blood, merely to boil the instruments you surgeons use. Madame, if I did anything so absurd as to boil my instruments or scrub my hands, they'd think I was a witch doctor resorting to charms and laugh me out of the hospital. That would be a novelty, monsieur. Most people who go to hospitals are carried out, dead. Your Majesty. What is it? Sir, Louis Pasteur has arrived, your Majesty. Oh, yes. Show him to the east room and ask him to wait for me there. Yes, your Majesty. Charbonnet, find Dr. Rossignol and Dr. Radice and any others who might be interested. We'll see Pasteur together and discover for ourselves whether the man is a genius. Impossible. I refuse to believe it. One moment, Dr. Radice. Yes, I know. Pasteur, will you please tell us precisely what you mean? I will, sir. The hospitals of Paris are pest houses. They're scarcely a doctor in the city who's not carrying death on his hands and on his instruments. Because of microbes, monsieur? Your private menagerie of invisible beasts. Exactly. Dr. Charbonnet could see them for himself if he took the trouble to use his microscope. He could watch them multiply into murderous millions. They breed in filth. They may start from the gutters of Paris tonight and by tomorrow claim some mother from this very court. Preposterous to think that a human being could be destroyed by an animal 10,000 times smaller than a flea. It is though an army of ants should destroy your Majesty's empire. Listen, a young woman died here tonight. The wife of the coachman who brought me. She was your patient, Charbonnet, a victim of your bigotry. You dare? You accuse me? But that isn't the end. The woman who attended her, your nurse, will carry the infection to your necks. A more illustrious patient, the Countess, Gabrielle de Vilvo. Your Majesty. Stop. I've heard enough. You should know better, Pasteur. The Countess, Gabrielle, is her Majesty's sister. I regret, Sire, but death knows no rank. Silence. In the preservation of wine and beer, you have been of service to France. We appreciate it. In the future, you will confine your work to that field, or suffer my displeasure. That will be all. Your Majesty. That will be all, Pasteur. Good night, Your Majesty. Here, this boy, I'll ask you to say a thing like that again, Your Majesty. Carriage, please. Yes, Monsieur. Monsieur Pasteur. Yes? Permit me, please. I am Jean Martel, physician and surgeon, Doctor of Medicine from the Sorbonne. Secretary of Hygiene, member of the International Society of Doctors at Edinburgh. Personally, I'm convinced that there is some truth in what you say. You are my mate.  When it comes to anything new or the least bit... I beg your pardon. Aren't you Dr. Charbonnay's assistant wife? Yes, I suppose I am, but... It is your duty to respect him then. Not to ridicule him. I, Monsieur... Good night. Quick, Annette. Run and open the door for him. Ru, you will light the candles on the cake. Thirty-eight. Only thirty-eight, and all ready to have done so much for the world. She's coming. Open the door, Annette. What? Oh, oh, oh. Thank you. Thank you, Maddie. Louis. Yes? Is anything wrong? You'll have to pack, Marie. We're leaving Paris tomorrow. Tomorrow? Louis, what happened? I've stepped too hard on the toes of our doctors. I've insulted the Academy of Medicine. They forbid me to work on human diseases. We must leave here, Marie. Yes, Louis. When I was a boy, I used to read of scientists fleeing from the cities to avoid persecution. It thrilled me. I didn't realize what a nuisance it was. But, Monsieur, perhaps you might better apologize to the Academy. A few lines. Take back what we know is true. Never. I die first. Don't worry, Ru. Someday we're going to prove that we're right. To the Emperor, to the Academy, to the world. We will continue with a much radio theatre presentation of Louis Pasteur, starring Paul Muoney. But now we're going to the stock room of Columbia's wardrobe department on Gower Street. A seamstress is taking one of her new assistants through the department, showing how and where the dresses and coats are kept. Now, over here are Irene Dunn's dresses. These are the ones she wore in Theodora Goes Wild. We might as well take the pink one out. It's got to be washed before we make it over for another picture. Washed? Can you wash a dress like that? Oh, yes. They were 15 days making that particular scene. And I know that dress has been washed at least three times. Well, I didn't believe you could wash that kind of material. Oh, my, yes. It washes beautifully in lux flakes. Of course, we wouldn't risk it in anything else. You see, these clothes are worth a lot of money, and we can't take chances. They've made lux a rule here in the wardrobe department. You better keep that in mind, too. Always see that there's plenty of lux. Now, on this side over here... All the big Hollywood studios use lux flakes for washing fine fabrics, because they've discovered it's the sure, safe way to keep them looking like new. Lux contains no harmful alkali, and with lux, there's no harsh cake soap rubbing. Even the shearest materials that are safe in water alone, you can put into gentle lux suds with perfect assurance. Try it for all your precious washables. Your silks, rayons, woolens, and fine cottons, you will love the way they come out of lux, clean, fresh, and brand new looking. And once again, Mr. DeMille. Eight years have gone by, and while men fought and killed each other in the Franco-Pression War, pasture fought microbes, the real enemy of all mankind. The war is over now, and the government hard-pressed to meet the heavy indemnity imposed by pressure has turned its attention to rebuilding the ravaged countryside. A devastating plague, anthrax, is destroying the livestock of France, the government's chief source of revenue. In only one small province, the district of Arboire, is there any immunity to the dread disease. To that district are sent two representatives of the Academy of Medicine, Dr. Radice and Jean Martel. Their coach comes to an abrupt halt near a herd of sheep. Look at that herd, Dr. Radice. I seem to be healthy enough. Luck, that's all. Pure luck. These fields have become immune. Yes, but how? Why? Oh, my dear Martel, such questions are beyond the scope of science. When you ask me how or why, I will refer you to the theologians. Thanks. I'll ask at this farmhouse first. Well, Martel, don't waste your time. Asking questions is never a waste of time. Oh, but my dear fellow... At least the future of France. Our whole financial structure lies in the health of our livestock. If we're to meet our indemnity, we must have a source of income. Well, good morning, Monsieur. Oh, good morning. Good morning. I'm sorry to intrude upon you. I'm Dr. Jean Martel. This gentleman is Dr. Radice. We were sent here by President Hier to discover if possible why your sheep have escaped the plague. Well, you're quite welcome. My name is Annette. Annette Pasteur. I'm sure Father will be delighted to see you. Pasteur? Not Louis Pasteur, but that chemist. Yes, Monsieur. Will you come this way? Father's back in the shed, vaccinating the sheep. Vaccinating? Yes, Monsieur, against the anthraxicillus. The what? The microbe, Monsieur, the germ that causes anthrax. Do you hear that, Martel? The germ. What? Oh, yes, yes. You seem to be very well informed. Oh, thank you. I couldn't help but know something about it. Oh, Father, there's someone to see you. Oh, good morning, Monsieur. Dr. Martel and Dr. Radice. Dr. Gutt. Oh, yes. So, Monsieur Pasteur, you are now the savior of the sheep, eh? Very interesting. You remember Pasteur Martel? He's the man who was responsible for Dr. Frederick's death, remember? He was run out of Paris. Not quite, Doctor. Oh, don't deny it, you were. And you were warned not to practice. Positive will be bitten. What's that? That sheep doesn't seem to agree with you, Dr. Radice. A prophet is never without his followers, it seems. But rarely such intelligent ones. These animals know what's good for them. Perhaps you'll tell me what's good for them. I'd like to know too. Who? Yes, Monsieur. Come here. Will you try to explain to Dr. Radice just what we're doing? He's a member of the Academy of Medicine. So you'll have to use very simple language. Eh, we are convinced, Dr. Radice, after eight years of experimenting, that this vaccine, when injected into the animal, will set up an immunity. Ridiculous. It would take 80 years to convince me. 80? Aren't you a bit optimistic? Well, the simple truth of the matter is that your fields are immune. It's impossible for sheep to be stricken in this neighborhood. And when I make my report to the Agricultural Board, I'm going to advise that all healthy cattle be moved to this district. No, you can't do that. I tell you, these fields are rating with contagions.  Oh, come along, Martell. Dr. Radice. Well, are you coming? No, I'm going to stay. Very well. Still disobeying your superiors, eh, Dr. Martell? What? I didn't think you remembered me. At the Palace. The night I told the Emperor, Contest de Vilfo would die. You were right.  Charbonnet's never forgiven you. Hmm. Eh, it's a pity. I'm no longer an idle courtier, Monsieur. I work for the government. My job is to help the farmers of France. So, well, if you don't mind, I'd like to work with you, Monsieur. Annette. Come here, dear. Ask your mother if we have room for a guest. Oh, yes, I'm sure we have. Well, I mean, I'll see. Excuse me, Monsieur. Hmm? My daughter blushes a pretty color. She, she's a very pretty girl, Monsieur. Ah. Mm-hmm.  Is that it? Why, yes. Yes, I do. If you've discovered a vaccine against anthrax, it's my duty to make it known. You think the Academy would be interested? If you can convince me, Monsieur, I should be honored if you'd allow me to convince them. Thank you. Come along, Martell. The Academy has made anthrax as insurable and unpreventable. Order. Order, gentlemen, order. They continue, Dr. Martell. Thank you. Gentlemen, I have seen with my own eyes what Pasteur can do and has done for the cattle of Evoire. We, on the other hand, members of the Academy of Medicine, have contributed nothing in the fight against anthrax. Then in Heaven's name, why don't we listen to a man who has? I agree. If someone is going to cure for anthrax, I want to know about it. Will the visitors in the gallery please refrain from talking? Mr. Chairman, Dr. Reddice has the floor. Thank you. I have only one question to raise, and that is this. Whether Dr. Martell's purpose here is to further the cause of science or the cause of love. Personally, I'm inclined to the latter view. For having met Mr. Pasteur's amiable daughter, I can hardly blame our young colleague who wanted to become his son-in-law. That's a lie. I'm here because I think Pasteur is right. I know he's right. Mr. Chair. Mr. Chair recognizes Dr. Rossignol. What does he say? Dr. Rossignol. Friends, colleagues, in my laboratory, I have found that I can produce anthrax in healthy sheep by injecting into their veins the dark, poisonous blood of an animal already affected. This treatment invariably results in death. I should like, therefore, to propose an experiment that would rid us once and for all of this medical multibank Louis Pasteur. What's your plan, gentlemen? Let us take 50 normal healthy sheep, 25 of which will be vaccinated by Mr. Pasteur. The other 25 will remain as they are. I shall then infect all 50 sheep with anthrax by the method I have just explained. And I defy any man or any vaccine to save a one of them. Yes, Bravo. Well, he wouldn't dare. Mr. Chairman. Dr. Eshabarney. I agree with Dr. Rossignol's experiment. We all agree. And we dare, Dr. Martel or Louis Pasteur, to try it. We dare him. Mr. Eshabarney. I accept. Mr. Eshabarney. Are you Louis Pasteur? I am. I've enjoyed listening to your discussions from the gallery here. And I repeat, I accept your challenge, Dr. Eshabarney. The experiment has been carried out. 50 sheep, all of them infected with the deadly anthrax bacillus. Half of them vaccinated by Pasteur. Will Pasteur sheep live? Will the vaccine immunize them against anthrax? From all the world over come scientists to witness the experiment. They mingle with the peasants in the fields at Arbois.  The unvaccinated sheep are dead. Then another cry which heralds the success of the experiment. Pasteur sheep are alive. They have resisted the disease. Anthrax has been conquered. Dr. Rossignol. Are you convinced? Alive. All of them. It's almost unbelievable. Monsieur. I offer my apologies. It's a triumph, Monsieur.  Congratulations. For me? I'm not wrong, am I, Annette? It was on. We're going to be married, Father. I thought so. The day he arrived, I thought so. Monsieur Pasteur. May I congratulate you, sir? I've come all the way from Edinburgh to watch this experiment. Ah. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, Monsieur. My name is Lister. Lister? Dr. Lister? I feel it a great honor to be present. The honor is mine, Monsieur. I'm well acquainted with the work you're doing on antiseptics. Thanks to you and your brilliant leadership. It's a dog. There's a mad dog, Luce. Uh, John. Take Annette to the carriage. A man has been bitten. Yes. Too late. Take him to the blacksmith. To have a red-hard eye and burn deep into his flesh. All the doctors in Europe couldn't do more for him. If he doesn't get rabies, even after the cauterization, he'll be very lucky. To die of rabies. And yet, there must be a way. A cure. There must be.   But they're waiting for me in the laboratory. We're working, my dear. Let them wait. Look, I have a letter for you. It came by Special Post from England. From Dr. Lister? Let me see her. Not until you've eaten. Oh, but it's important, Marie. Very well. I'll read it to you.  What?  That you neglect your wife, abuse your family. Oh, come, come, come, Marie. This is no time to joke. Very well. I'll tell you what he really says. Your recent paper on the known sources of infection is admirable in every detail. Ah, a very clever man. Listen to this. Forgive the frankness with which a common love of science inspires me. I embrace you. My fellow workers in Brussels and Proud report that their hospitals are rapidly becoming safe. Mothers can go to them without fear. That's where our annex should be sent to have a baby. I must tell Jean. Listen, there's more. I do not hesitate to acclaim you the most valuable man yet to enter the field of science. Good, Lister. You see, Marie, now I must work and work and work. Louie, what was that? Nothing, Marie. Nothing. Down the laboratory. I heard it. What is it? What is it? It is... A dog, a mad dog. But it's all right, Marie. We have a mad dog down there. Please, Louie, please, not hydrophobia. Don't work on hydrophobia. I may as well tell you, Marie. I've been trying to discover a cure for months. I've pledged myself to wipe it from the face of the earth. Come in. Come in, gentlemen. Come in. Thank you. Thank you. I'm afraid I haven't enough fear. I'll find a little need for them in my laboratory. A monsieur? Yes, Dr. Charbonne. It is the wish of some of us that the Academy of Medicine honor you with this visit. Honor me? To be brief, Dr. Sarnath has been reading your recent statements in the journal promising a cure for rabies. The press takes liberties, doctor. As usual, my remarks were grossly exaggerated. In your last paper to the Academy, monsieur, you said you were on the threshold of a great discovery. Yes. Might I inquire if you have crossed that threshold? Science takes a step. Then another. Then it stops and reflects before taking a third. Go on, please. Step by step, monsieur, as I'm reaching the ultimate conclusion that microbes are the cause of all disease. If you may not feel skeptical. If germs are still a myth to you, then listen.  May I see that test tube, monsieur? If you wish. Thank you. But be careful. Why? You have the tiniest scratch on your hand. A scratch? Suppose I make one on my arm with my pen knife. And suppose I rub this so-called virus into the open wound like this. Stop him! Stop him! We shall see where the germs cause disease. All I want now is to have you predict the hour of my death. There's Charbonnet now, sitting at the table. He seems to be enjoying his beer, too. Strange for a dead man, eh? Where's Charbonnet? How do you feel today? Very well, Dr. Radis, and you? It's over a month now. According to pastor, you should be in your grave. The more germs I've given, the better I feel. I've come to warn you about Charbonnet.  The work you're doing is too important. I wish it were important. But it isn't. You seem so confident today we were here. I still am. Every animal that was vaccinated with the contents of that test tube died. Except Charbonnet. For some reason, he was able to resist the disease. Why? I don't know. Are you sure it was the same tube? Positive. It was the only specimen I had. You may have let it stand too long.  Come into the laboratory. Oh, Martel. How old was that virus when Charbonnet rubbed it into his arm? 14 days. And when was it last used on a rabbit, Martel? About a week before, I believe. A week? Are you sure? Wait a minute, wait. Here's the record. Nine days to be exact. There's your answer, Rossignol. There it is. It must be. It's the only conceivable explanation. Well, do you think by allowing the virus to age that you were able to render it harmless? Not harmless, but weak. Weak enough for the system to overcome. Well, even if that's true, it won't help you any. When a man's bitten, he gets the germ full strength. Precisely. But suppose we start with a 14-day-old virus that's no longer deadly. Suppose we inject it into a healthy animal, and day by day, as nature builds up its resistance, we increase the doses with stronger, fresher samples until he's able to withstand the actual diseases we find in the world at large. Would he not then be immune? No, impossible. It would never work. If the first injection didn't kill him, the second would, or the third... Martel. Yes, Monsieur. Where are those two you've been preparing? Right here. They're all in order. Each one is dated. Here we are. 14 days. How many dogs have we left? Ten. Are they well, healthy? In perfect condition. They've never been exposed. Give them hydrophobia. Monsieur. What? Give them hydrophobia. 14 days. Injections every day are signalling. All of our dogs are alive and well. Yes, you've made them immune. Absolutely. And if it hadn't been for Charbonnet, we might never have discovered this treatment. Poor Charbonnet. Little does he know that he's been our favorite guinea pig. Yes, Marie. Will you come into the sitting room? There's a doctor to see you. A doctor?  I'd better go with you, Pasteur. Yes, yes. Come along.     Yes, this is Dr. Rossignor. Good evening, doctor. Hey, Dr. Pfeiffer. I apologize for not giving notice, but we've come all the way from Alsace. This is Madame Meister. Her child is a patient of mine. My little boy. My little Joseph. Good evening, Joseph. Good evening, monsieur. The boy was bitten. I've done all I could, but that isn't very much. Surely developed hydrophobia. Oh, you didn't help him. They told us you could.  Here, here. Don't be afraid. How long has it been? Eleven days. And you caught rise the wounds? Not right away. Must have been 24 hours. It's a long time to wait.  Of course it doesn't.  They have too much to live for. I know he won't live. I know him. The last year was our neighbor's child. It's our home. Hey, quiet. What does that have to do with yours? Save him. Save him. Marie. Marie. Put him to bed. Let's see that he's kept warm. Come, Joseph. You go upstairs, shall we? Thank you. Is there anything you can do, Monsieur? I don't know. I'm just experimenting. I have hopes, but... I don't know. You're quite sure the dog was rabid, Dr. Piper? Beyond a doubt. I made the test myself. The first symptoms shouldn't appear for at least two weeks. We might have time to produce an immunity. I'm sure I implore you with this. Please understand me. My treatment has saved dogs. Ten of them. But I haven't the faintest notion what effect it would have upon a human being. If I failed, it would mean prison. Perhaps... the guillotine. Since death is the only alternative for the boy, I'd be willing to try anything. Wouldn't you, Dr. Rosigno? No, I'm sorry. I can't agree. As much as I admire Pasteur's accomplishments, nevertheless, where human life is at stake, I'd hesitate a long while before going contrary to the best medical knowledge. Which, in the case of hadrophobias, to let the patient die? We do what we can. We administer drugs and sedatives. Is there a single cure on that? I'm not arguing for it.  To embark upon a new course is always dangerous from a professional point of view, and would be doubly so for Monsieur Pasteur, who is not a doctor, and could expect no support from the medical profession. But in this... For his sake, therefore, I strongly advise that nothing irregular be attempted. Good morning, gentlemen. Monsieur Pasteur, you're not going to listen to him, are you?  I don't know. Well, if you change your mind, don't hesitate to call me. Where are you? I've been in to look at the boy. That syringe in your hand. What were you doing with it? Quiet, Marie. That boy was so young. So young to die. Someone had to help him. You didn't give him the treatment. You didn't, Louis. Yes, Marie. I did. You'll go to prison. They'll send you to prison. Not so loud. He'll need his sleep. We pause for station identification. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. Paul Muné resumes the story of Louis Pasteur shortly. In a few weeks, American audiences will see what is reported to be the finest picture ever made in Great Britain, called Fire Over England. Yet the ball of fire responsible for it is an American. William K. Howard of United Artists Studios, who was borrowed from Hollywood to direct it. It was just 10 years ago that I met Mr. Howard at Paramount. He joined me later at the Mill Productions and has since directed films at Fox, Metro, Goldwyn-Mayer and Paramount, turning out such hits as White Gold, Transatlantic, Rendezvous and Mary Burns Fugitive. It was Mr. Howard who directed Paul Muné's first picture, The Valiant. Ladies and gentlemen, William K. Howard. Thank you, Mr. DeMelt. Thank you. May I tell you how happy I am to meet you again and to appear on the same program with you and Mr. Muné. American, congratulations on the success of that brilliant picture, The Plainsman, yours. I had the pleasure of seeing last week. Thank you, Bill. Thank you. Nice to hear you're referring to my directing, Mr. Muné and The Valiant. That was an interesting experience because, well, Mr. Muné's first picture was almost his last. You see, the producers stopped production almost before it began. I'm sure that Paul recalled the first line he ever said in any motion picture. It was, I've just killed a man.  But the picture went on and Paul Muné emerged, the great screen personality that he is today. Very interesting, Bill. But please tell us something about England. Is it true what they say about the tea over there? I knew that was coming, CB. And here's the answer. Tea is almost as important to British production as the film itself. It goes something like this. One stops production for tea at ten o'clock in the morning, then one stops production again for tea at four in the afternoon, and then one goes to the country for the weekend to rest up. But seriously, CB would be absurd for us to dismiss British film production as a factor in our business. They're enthusiastic, they're aggressive, they are determined. They've tasted success with such pictures of Henry VIII, the Scarlet Pimp and the Liars of Spy, 39 Steps, and they're going ahead in the hope of enjoying more of that success, which until now has been particularly ours. You sound to me like Paul Revere shouting, here come the British. Not at all, CB. I'm shouting, here come the Americans. If you could have been with me last summer in London, you would have seen Marlene Dietrich, Sylvia Sidney, Edward G. Robinson, Anne Harding, Henry Fonda, all making English films. I'm sure you'd have thought you were in your own studio. London films are using the best British talent they can secure and the best American talent they can buy. They're going ahead, and I assure you they are a factor to be reckoned with. Now, I was right, you are Paul Revere. You talk like a man who's taking the next boat back. Not the next boat, CB, but next summer, surely. You see, when I'm directing, I'm generally in a fog anyway. I want all the sunshine I can get, and you know those London winters. Good night, CB. Good night, Bill. Good night. Back to the story of Louis Pasteur starring Paul Muny. Three days have passed, and the little boy, Joseph, is still alive. Pasteur torn with anxiety, looks years older. His shoulders droop and his step-legs. He's also worried about his daughter, Annette. And as he enters the living room, he sinks exhausted into a chair. Any news, Annette? Her time is drawing very near, that's all. What does the doctor say? He hasn't been here today. I sent round for him. They said he was ill. Ill? We'll have to get someone else. When it comes to the use of antiseptics, it's difficult to find one you can trust. I'll speak to Dr. Bedal in the morning. Louis, how was the boy doing? The third injection made him sick. He has a fever. A fever? What are you going to do? Do. Give him a fourth, a fifth, a sixth. If he lives. Marie, I've been lucky all my life. Luckier than I deserve. But if I fail now... You're not going to fail. He'll recover. And when he does, we'll go away. We'll take a long vacation. Rue, Martel, all of them. They need it more than we do. How fine they've been. How patient. They'll never know how grateful I am. Then why don't you tell them? I will. I will. And you, Marie. You, most of all. What have I done to warrant such devotion? Do you remember what you said when you asked me to marry you? You said there's nothing in me to attract a young girl's fancy. But those who have known me very well have come to like me. Did I say that? Was I really that vain? And you knew better, too. You were looking in a mirror when you spoke. But I'm still... Yes, what is it, Cecile? Annette, madame. The coachman has just come from her house. She wants you. So soon? And Dr. LeCloch is ill, Louis. Go to the house. I'll find a doctor and meet you there. Hurry, Marie. Why doesn't he come? Why doesn't he come? He'll be here, madame. Don't worry. Did you boil the water, Cecile? Yes, madame. And there's sterile gods. Louis. Yes. Is she all right? Yes, the doctor, Louis. I have one. Come in, doctor. This is my wife. Marie. This is Dr. Charbonnet. Charbonnet? At your service, madame. But only because Dr. LeCloch is indisposed to bedal is a way on a vacation, eh, pastor? Well, I have to have someone. I'll go to Annette. Cecile will come with me. Yes, madame. Would you mind picking up that instrument, please? No, not at all. Thank you. Well, where's the patient? Wait. You're not going to use those instruments without boiling them. Certainly. I say no. My dear pastor, I'm doing this as a professional courtesy. Then do it my way, please. I'm a little tired of doing things your way. Today, 12 Russian peasants came to the hospital asking for your treatment for hydrophobia. What is that to do with... They said you sent them. I did. Dr. Charbonnet, my daughter is in that room. She's... there's not much time. But I am to do things your way. Please. Very well. One moment, pastor. What are you doing? I'm writing a statement for you concerning your work on the treatment of rabies. Dr. Charbonnet, this isn't the time. One moment, please. Shall I read it to you? Listen, I hereby acknowledge that my investigations into the cause of hydrophobia has proven fruitless and is of no value whatsoever. That's not true. If you will kindly sign that statement, I shall follow your instructions exactly. Well, give me the pen. Thank you, monsieur. If I live another month without developing hydrophobia, I shall feel justified to publish this note in the leading scientific journals of Europe.  Of course. Now, roll up your sleeves and wash your hands here. Wash them thoroughly to the elbows, to the elbows. What's in that basin? Don't worry. It's just a little chloride. It won't hurt you. There you are. Now, you'd better use the brush, too. The brush, the brush, the brush. Oh, very well. That's right. That's right. Cecil! Yes, monsieur? Take these instruments. Put them into boiling water and keep them there until Dr. Charbonnet asks for them. Yes, monsieur. There you are. Well, I think my hands are quite clean now.  Thank you. Yes, sir. Are you ready? Except for my bag. Oh, here it is. Put it down. What? Put it down with your hands. You've spoiled it. You'll have to wash them again. See here, you're making a fool out of me. I've brought hundreds of babies into the world. Do as I say.  Here. Thoroughly. Wash them thoroughly. Now, hold them up high. Touch nothing but the patient. Doctor. Yes, Marie. My daughter is ready now. Dr. Charbonnet. Are you asleep? We have a grandson. Do you hear? A grandson. Louie, wake up. Dr. Charbonnet, come here. What's the matter? My husband, eh? He doesn't answer me. Quiet, please. What is it, doctor? He's not... No. He's had a stroke. You see, Jean? He's opening his eyes. He'll be all right now. Marie. Yes, Louie. I'm here. My left side is paralyzed. Only slightly. It isn't serious. When did it happen? A few days ago. A few days? You were more tired than anything else. I have no fear of death, Marie. No fear. Oh, Jean. The master boy. How is he? He's doing splendidly. Thank God. Thank God. And the Russians. Were you able to help them? No, the hospital refused to allow our treatment without permission from the academy. Permission was granted this morning, but too late. Three of them died yesterday. Horribly. Let me up. I must go. Please. Let me up. How many are left? Nineteen. But it's no use. It's hopeless. If our efforts can save one, it will be worth it. Help me up, someone. Get me dressed. Order the carriage. I'm going to the hospital. Thank you. Patient number six, first treatment. Fourteen-day-old virus. Give it to him, Lou. Yes, monsieur. Patient number seven, fourth day. Any change? Not this morning. Continue treatment, eleven. Eleven-day-virus. Patient number eight. Monsieur Pasteur. Hmm? Oh, good morning, Dr. Chabonne. I've been watching your patients, monsieur. They're doing very well. Yes, indeed. Even better than I hoped. Uh, Chabonne, I didn't thank you for delivering my grandchild.  I'm sorry. Perhaps this note will speed your recovery. Note? The statement I ask you to sign. I'm giving it back to you. No. A bargain's a bargain. There is your note, monsieur. I was wrong. And now I ask you for one thing more. Yes? I want the Pasteur treatment for hydrophobia. How is Monsieur Pasteur today? Oh, I don't know, Jean. He's, he's so tired. Seems to have lost all interest. Did you tell him about the meeting at the academy tonight? No, no. But he won't go. He doesn't care very much about it. But they're expecting him. I know. Yes, I know. Tell him someone's going to refute his theories. He'll care about that. Perhaps. Where is he? In the living room with Joseph. I'd better see him. Joseph's mother's here to take him home. I'll wait at the academy. Louis, Madame Meister's waiting. One moment. Well, Joseph, you're going home. Yes, monsieur. Thank you. Come here. Can you write? Yes, sir. Would you like to write to me? Yes, very much. Then let me hear from you every month, won't you? Yes, monsieur. Now, don't forget. I'll be looking for your letter. Goodbye, Joseph. Goodbye, Madame Meister. Goodbye, dear. Well... I never thought he'd leave here alive, Louis. Thank God that he did. By the way, Louis, Rue just told me that a foreign scientist is giving a lecture at the academy this afternoon. He claims to have disproven your entire germ theory. Who is he? What's his name? I don't know. Disprove my theory? We've got to go. We'll see about that. Get your coat. We'll leave at once. At once. Come in, monsieur.  They've arranged for you to sit on the platform. Courage, my dear. I'll be listening. This way, monsieur. Whom are they applauding? It's Dr. Lister from England. Lister? Lister to speak against me? Oh, here's the door leading to the platform. Now, your chair is over this way. Ooh, ooh, what... What is it? Well, it's you. They're applauding you. Right. I don't understand you, you said Lister. There's no one speaking against your theory. Oh, here he is now. Mr. Pasteur, I greet you in the name of humanity. Lister. Great Lister. Monsieur Pasteur, from His Majesty the Chair of Russia, the diamond cross of the Order of St. Anne, with our profoundest gratitude. Doctors and scientists of the future, do not let yourselves be tainted by a barren skepticism, nor discouraged by the sadness of certain hours that creep over nations. Do not become angry at your opponents for no scientific theory has ever been accepted without opposition. Live in a serene piece of libraries and laboratories. Say to yourselves first, what am I accomplishing? Until the time comes when you may have the immense happiness of thinking that you've contributed in some way to the welfare and progress of mankind. And so we end the last chapter of Louis Pasteur. Paul Muni, however, returns to us in a few moments. There sits a king in Hollywood whose scepter is a pencil and whose subjects are women the world over, his realm is fashion, and in this sphere, his name, like Abu Ben-Adams, leads all the rest. I refer to Adrian. A few years ago when I went to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, I brought three associates with me. Jason, now a Paramount director, Joel McCray, now a United Artists star, and Adrian. And there he's remained, dictating styles by designing clothes for such fashion paces as Greta Gabo, Joan Crawford, Jeanette MacDonald, Myrna Loy, and Norma Shearer. Ladies and gentlemen, Adrian. Thank you. The best advice I could possibly give any woman who wants to dress well is summed up in two simple words. Be yourself. Women are inclined to drift carelessly to what they would like to be rather than what they really are. There are women who just know their garbos while actually their thoughts and characteristics are much more like Simone Simone, or even at times like Shirley Temple. You will never be well-dressed until the clothes you wear are the true reflection of your real self. That sounded nice, Adrian. But how does a woman find her real self? By observing yourself intelligently and by dropping all insincerity, women have acquired many affectations through years of confused associations. When they can push all that aside, they will see themselves simply, they will dress simply, look smart and be attractive. Is it your opinion then that women should not be influenced by what they see on the screen?  Well, it's all very well to tell women that proper dress will do wonders for them. But suppose they don't have a great deal of money What then? Well, frankly, Mr. DeMille, a lack of money can be a distinct advantage. Women who must watch their budgets are much more apt to show better taste because their dresses must be more conservative for all-round wear. As for good looks, the women, the women who lead fashion are rarely beauties. Girls like Joan Crawford, Greta Garbo, Carol Lombard, Kay Francis are not pretty from the accepted magazine cover standard, but they use their heads and are constantly doing the unexpected in their dress. The three most important pictures you've worked on recently, Adrienne, are Parnell with Myrna Loy, Maytime with Jeanette Macdonald, and Camille with Greta Garbo. Do you expect these pictures to set any new style trends? Well, each is a costume film of about the same period. It may be that next spring you'll see ladies wearing bonnets like garbos, but they'll be dashing rather than prim. Dresses may have a bit of a bustle, and I wouldn't be surprised if shawls are worn next summer over evening gowns. I'm only guessing now, that's a good signal to call a halt. I hope I've been as much help to the women in our audience as to the women in our audience as Lux Flakes are in protecting our wardrobe. At MGM. Thank you. Good night, Adrienne. Good night. And now tonight's star, ladies and gentlemen, Paul Mune. Thank you, Mr. DeMille. There's no character I've enjoyed portraying more than that of Louis Pasteur. When we stop to think that this lone man contributed to society, it makes the best of us a little insignificant and useless. Mr. Mune, now that the good earth is almost finished, what do you plan to do next? Well, I have two pictures to make. Eskidrill for RKO together with Miriam Hopkins, and then the truth is on the march for Warner Brothers. The latter is based on the unforgettable document of Emile Zola's book I Accus. I'd like to talk more if I thought I had something really interesting to say, but what is known as poor copy. However, I do want to say how much enjoyment the Lux Radio Theatre has given me, both as a listener and a performer. Good night. Good night, Mr. Miriam. Next week, the Lux Radio Theatre brings you Loretta Young, our play Polly of the Circus, famous on the stage and twice a hit in motion pictures. Our sponsors, the makers of Lux Flakes, join me in inviting you to be with us again next Monday night when the Lux Radio Theatre presents Loretta Young and Polly of the Circus with James Gleason. This is Cecil B. DeMille saying good night to you from Hollywood. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System.


What makes us good? What sets the hero apart from the villain? Even then, what does it mean to be a hero? Is it someone fulfilling an ambition at great personal and physical struggle, or is it someone doing something for the good of mankind? It could be that heroes have more compassion or empathy. Maybe there's a hero gene, a fundamental part of someone that drives them towards selfless acts, to the defense of those who need it most, or the sacrifice of their very selves for a greater moral purpose or cause. We do not know for sure, but it is not for want of trying. For millennia uncounted, humanity has asked ourselves these questions, even as we see heroes rise and fall, and new ones rise in their stead, or to fulfill their legacy. It is one of the fundamental philosophical questions, and one that, I believe, points to the inherent goodness contained within us all, that each of us share a spark of the heroic ideal to use our own gifts to help out others who may need it. A romantic notion, to be sure, in these darkest of times, yet one that has ever been on my mind since the nights of days past. During the sojourning hours I dreamed, once more, dreamed again of those mortal realms, of the age of the being known as Sigmar, and who they were most vivid. I beheld golden-clad demigods striding forth against the most hideous monstrosities in all creation, to lay down their lives so that all that is good in the world may flourish. To that end, and to perhaps banish these glowing nightmares from my mind, I have penned the following. Though then, this is a record of the auric heroes of these realms, the warriors who arrive upon the tempests themselves, the Stormcast Eternals. The Stormcast Eternals are the mightiest human warriors of the mortal realms, peerless heroes forged by magic into living paragons of the God-King Sigmar's wrath. Each one is the epitome of all that is noble, true, and just in a soldier, for each one has been plucked from their mortal existences right at the very moment of their death, their souls saved from the afterlife by Sigmar's will, to be transported to his heavenly realm of Azir. There, their cast anew, their essence reforged into the immortal weapons of the God-King, clad in shining Sigmarite and bearing the hammer weapons redolent of their gods own, they are cast into the mortal realms upon columns of lightning to smite all those that would stand in opposition to the destiny of order. To be a Stormcast Eternal is to know a life of constant, endless conflict, to take the righteous fury of Sigmar to countless battlefields and crash his judgment upon the heads of those deserving. They are the hammers of order, cast unto the anvil of eternal war, and each does so with hearts heavy with duty yet steeled against doubt, for they know within their truest selves that they are one of the last hopes the mortal realms have against the corrupt, the ravenous, and the destructive. They are the shield by which the realms of the living, of man, Dwarden, and elf and beast, are protected. The Stormcast are quite literally the last and greatest hope for Sigmar in his quest to bring order to the mortal realms, and to protect them against the depredations of the dark gods of chaos. Deep in the past, in the Halcyon days of the Age of Myth following the destruction of the world that was, Sigmar, found in the void by the great star Drake Dracotheon, toured the eight new planes of existence that made up the realms, defeating great monsters, resurrecting long-lost gods, and protecting the nascent mortal tribes from harm. Before long, Sigmar's pantheon of order, an alliance of divine beings as different from each other as night is today, was working towards a common goal, the nurturing of mortal civilization. The achievements of the pantheon and their realms were beyond imagination, although one has tried to account for them in a previous record upon these dreams. Works of magic, scholarship, engineering, and science never thought possible were completed daily, and it is said a traveller could spend an eternity wandering the eight realms and not see one tenth of their glories. Would this tale be able to end thus, but alas, it was not to be. In the depths of the void, the gods of chaos had aspired the mortal realms, and having glutted themselves upon the souls of those lost in their destruction of the world that was, saw a whole new plane upon which to feast yet further.  The pantheon of order was not to last, and cracked under the weight of so many clashing divine ambitions. The age of myth was to come to a catastrophic conclusion when Archeon, the ever-chosen of the pantheon, warrior peerless and dubbed the grand marshal of the apocalypse, broke apart reality itself to lead a seemingly infinite horde of demonic creatures and chaos worshipping mortals into the realms, annihilating and conquering all in their path. The pantheon of order did what they could to stymie this invasion, but one by one by one they fell, retreated or disappeared, seeking to protect their own realms and abandoning their erstwhile allies in the process. Despite winning a string of victories against the hordes of chaos, Sigmar was thwarted by Archeon at the battle of the burning skies, where the ever-chosen's trickery left him bereft of his mighty hammer Gal Maraz, unable to stem the tide any further. Sigmar fled, retreating with the last of his mortal subjects to the realm of celestial magic, Azir, forever shutting it off from the other southern realms by sealing its great magical gates. The dark gods were ascendant, and the mortal realms despaired under their vilest tyranny. The age of chaos was a time of direst grief for the citizens of the planes left to the domination of the pantheon, their armies rampaged across the lands, burning even the mightiest of civilizations to ash, or laying them low with the vilest of plagues from without or the most sinister of corruption from within. More and more of the mortal herd turned to the worship of the dark gods, either out of their own greed for power, or simple desperation and desire to survive the apocalypse. The very land itself warped under the foul influences of these extra-dimensional evils, scoured of all that was good and pure, and twisted into corrupted mirrors of past glories. Before long, the dark pantheon began to feud internally, manufacturing vendettas and plots, moving their mortal pawns against those of their kin, each vying to control a greater slice of reality than the others. Korn, Nurgle, Zeech, and the great horned rat all clashed upon battlefields uncountable, each seeking to supplant the other. Only Slaanesh, imprisoned by the elf gods long ago, was absent, but their followers yet fought on in their name. Ultimately, it was a blood god Korn, lord of skulls that would wax the highest, for was he not the final resting place upon all blood that was spilt, and was battle not the sole currency of this darkest of ages. Everywhere his hordes marched, and where they did, the slaughter of purest insanity went with it. The very passage left the land a choked ruin, weeping with rivers of vitae, stained a red so deep none knew if it would ever be whole again. It seemed that the dominion of the dark gods would never end, it seemed for all the world that light would never return to the mortal realms, but return it would, and did, on pinions of brightest lightning. In the halls of his ear, realm of the celestial, Sigmar, the god king, had not been idle. In alliance with the smith lord Grungi of the Dwarden, he had, in this time of isolation, worked feverishly to rebuild, forging in spaces occluded from the dark pantheon an army to shake the heavens themselves. Combining all he and his remaining allies knew of soul magic, Sigmar plucked the spirits of the mightiest heroes of the age of myth from the pheromint, and bent forces of time and space through gold-forged mangy technology in order to recast them. Upon the anvil of apotheosis are their new forms wrought, filled with a vim and vigor of the mightiest of mortal champions.  Their new bodies are filled to the brim with the very magic of his ear, and they stride forth clad in gleaming sigmarite armor, wielding weapons that channel the power of storm magic itself, strong enough to split an armored warrior of the dark gods in twain with a single blow. Sigmar's storm cast, and spent the age of chaos drilling, preparing and itching for their return to the realms. When God King knew that his reforging was not perfect, that though his warriors of the storm would be caught at the moment of their deaths and reborn again anew, his process was not complete, and there may yet exist a flaw within it. But he also knew his time was out, and he had no tools but those which he had crafted himself. He resolved to no longer see the pantheon despoil his precious mortal realms, so he sent forth his tempest, and it was a storm to shake the fabric of creation. The arrival of the storm cast eternals to the mortal realms was nothing short of a divine catatlysm, a sundering of the heavens from whence forth burst avatars of retribution. The first of these battles at the igneous delta in the realm of fire saw the hammers of sigmar reap bloody vengeance from the forces of the gore tied, but this was but the first of countless engagements in a series of conflicts that would later become known as the realm gate wars. Across the entire span of the world's spheres, the storm cast and their resurgent allies sallied forth from sigmar's celestial kingdom to reclaim precious realm gates from the forces of the dark gods. The hallowed knights chamber liberated the realm of life, gairan, and its ever queen from the corruption of nergal. In chamon, realm of metal, twelve whole storm hosts united to retrieve gal maraths from the eldritch fortress. The wars brought to the field the awesome power of the god beasts, divine zodiacal monsters whose unleashed power devastated whole armies and reshaped the very lands of the realms. Ultimately, sigmar's attempt to recapture the all points, the dimensional nexus from where all realm gate travel is possible, failed. The forces of his resurgent grand alliance of order were able to recover two vital portals, the genesis gate in gairan and the brimfire gate of akshi. With this, the age of sigmar had truly begun, and the god king's storm cast were its most prominent champions. When the storm cast enter the fray of a battle, they do so upon the lightning itself, a living storm that leaves behind after each thunderbolt an armoured warrior set with purest righteousness in their hearts. From out of these tempests the god of kings forces crash into their foes, falling upon them like the mighty gal maraths itself. This method of deployment was one specifically wrought by sigmar to not only demonstrate the sheer power of his storm cast and to strike the most awestruck of terrors into their enemies' hearts, but to serve a very real military function, as the magic storms upon which the warriors of azir are transported allows them to strike at any point in the realms almost at a whim. It is not for naught that to the mortals of the realms a sudden oncoming storm is seen as the greatest of blessings or the direst of omens, depending on whom you pledge your allegiance. The god king dispatches his storm hosts to wherever they are needed, and though their numbers are few, their impact is perennially felt wherever their tempests ultimately land. Faster, stronger and more resilient than a mortal human, even the lowliest of storm cast is a veritable demigod of war, and the oldest and most experienced amongst them are more akin to forces of nature unleashed than mere warriors. To live long they shall, but the storm cast are, after their first reforging, functionally immortal. When a warrior of the host dies, they do not pass into the afterlife as mortals do. Instead, the magic imbued into them at the moment of their first death whisks away their souls from their now deceased body back to the halls of Sigmaron in high azir to undergo the reforging all over again. This is not to say that there are not means through which this can be undone. A sufficiently wicked or eldritch weapon has known to claim the true life of many a storm cast, and great wars are often fought to possess such power. But in high azir they are recast once more, reincarnated again into the mortal realms to go forth and enact the god king's will. Though their conduct have been exemplary, they may even be granted a new role within their storm hosts, for those who fall in Sigmar's service, selling their lives for the cause of order, are treated with a due reverence, or at least, such was once the case. The realm gate wars, the malign portents, the soul wars. As the conflicts of the realms grow in intensity and more and more of Sigmar's warriors fall and are reforged, it has begun to become dreadfully clear that the flow of the god king feared in his desperate gambit of ages past does indeed exist. Each time a storm cast eternal falls in battle, and each time they are recast upon the anvil of apotheosis, they lose a part of themselves. The celestial magic imbued in them in their first death is of the wildest and most powerful sort, and it is incapable of rendering them as complete as they once were. What a storm cast may lose is unique to they themselves. It may be the scent of the village they were born onto. It may be the name of a loved one, a partner, or a parent or sibling perhaps. It may even be their true name. Whatever they lose, it is often deeply personal, and should it not be, it is still seen by the storm cast themselves as a fragment of their truest humanity they will now never recover. The indefinable aspects of their human souls are, over the years, gradually being eroded by the eternal cycle of war they now find themselves in, and it is a source of no small terror to these heroes that they are, effectively losing their precious humanity. This is not to say they are becoming great out-idolons like the spirits of those who serve Nagash are, far from it, but they are changed, and changed profoundly by this process. In place of a treasured memory, those reforged may experience all manner of strange and eldritch phenomena. Some have voices that rumble with far-off thunder, others eyes of sparking magical lightning. Some have awoken with tattooed lines across their body that glow with corpus hunt, while others trail a sinister magical wind, seeming to blow from cold far-off realms. These traits can even become dictated by the storm host a warrior may hail from. The oldest of the Knights Excelsior leaves smoking footprints wherever they tread, while those of the Knights of the Aurora truly embody their name by trailing ethereal light behind them as they charge into battle. The more sanguine of the Stormcast accept these as blessings of both the God-King and of Azir, whereas the more morose push these thoughts of lost humanity from their minds, focusing on their training and duties to better distract them from impending loss. The God-King himself is not unaware of this, and as each of his warriors become less and less human, he despairs that his duty to the realms forced his hand and caused him to inflict such a terrible fate upon the heroes of the world spheres. To that end, he created the sacrosanct chamber of the Eternals, those of the Stormcast more attuned to the magic of Azir than others, to tend to the reforging process and to study all aspects of it. In this way, it is hoped, the sacrosanct may discover the root of the Great Flaw, and if at all possible, mend it. And during the Age of Chaos, but the rest of their brethren, the sacrosanct chambers are filled with the reforged souls of the mightiest warriors and mystics of the Age of Myth, but were not unleashed upon the battlefield when the hosts of the God-King first took to the realms. Instead, they formed a guardian core around the Anvil of Apotheosis, studying every aspect of it as more and more Stormcast fell in the era defining conflict of the Realmgate Wars. The yet labor to this end, bending their efforts to curing the curse that afflicts their brethren. But their great works have recently been interrupted by the machinations of the Great Necromancer. That story, however, must wait for another time. The warriors of the Stormcast Eternals are organized and divided according to Stormhosts, each a legion of the God-King, each with a history and honor that now stretches through the ages. Some hosts represent all aspects of the Grand Alliance of Order and all shades of humanity that may walk the realms. And though all are united by their service to the God-King, they often are as different from each other as night is today. The Hammers of Sigmar, the most iconic golden warriors of the hosts, are often held as exemplars of all Stormcasts for their rigid dedication to military order, whereas the Knights Excelsior are Sigmar's total annihilators, leaving only scorched earth in the aftermath of their passing. The Hallowed Knights are crusaders, Templars of Azir, that are without doubt the most zealously faithful of Sigmar's followers, perennially attracting pilgrim crowds to worship at the foot of their Stormkeeps. By contrast, the Astral Templars are Wildkin, formed from the heroes of Gur, the Realm of Beasts, known to favor quests that involve the hunting of monsters. The Sigmarite Brotherhood of Chamon, Realm of Metal, fight side by side in interlocking shield walls, while the Daur Black Armored Anvils of Heldenhammer evoke the sinister shadows of Shaish, the Realm of Death. For every realm, there is a dozen more Stormhosts, each with traditions, styles and forms of war-making of their own. For the enemies of order are yet more numerous and even more varied, and the God-King must be ready to call upon warriors who specialize in combating every foe imaginable. At the conclusion of the Realmgate Wars, these Stormhosts set about founding their Stormkeeps, mighty fastnesses from whence the hosts may strike out against the enemies of order, but are also in a very real way, the Earthly Projection and Foundation of Sigmar's Earthly Power. Keenly does the God-King feel the pain of the long epoch spent locked in his ear, keeping it hidden and occluded from the rest of the realms and seeing the Chaos Gods run rampant. Stormkeeps of his legions can be seen in this way as a promise to never let such an age return. No Stormkeep is the same. Some appear as castles of ages past, while others are more akin to cities of light and cloud. Some are built to top the highest peaks of the realm they inhabit, while others burrow into the Stygian Underworlds below. All, however, have one thing in common. At their centre lies a Realmgate, those portals through which any may access the different planes of the mortal realms. Stormkeeps are fortifications of these nexae, control over travel between different realms. They are vital beyond price for this, and by their very presence form loci of resistance against all those who mean the mortals of the realm's harm. At first they were simple walled keeps, but over time and under the eyes of the Lord Castellans of the Stormcast, they grew, adding concentric rings of mighty fortifications expanding ever-outwards. Weapon batteries, siege-resistant walls, and all manner of arcane defences wait to greet the enemies that may assail them, often bolstered by others from the forces of order in a myriad of ways. The Stormkeeps of Gairan are often protected by forests enchanted by the Sylvaneth, with walls strengthened by living vines. Elsewhere, fortresses may find their walls adorned with the black powder cannon of the iron-weld arsenal, or protected against the corrupting magics of chaos or Nagash by the eldritch wards of the collegiate arcane. Regardless of where, each Stormcast is as much a center of learning as a military establishment. In the Age of Myth, Sigmar was a god who strove to enlighten and bring civilization, to batter the lives of all those living in the realms, and his Stormcast continued this mission to this day. His warriors study within these archives, for it is not just upon the field of battle that chaos must be fought, but in the realm of the metaphorical too, for what are the dark gods but ideas and emotion made into corruptive universal forces? Each of the greatest cities of Sigmar has at its core one of the greatest Stormkeeps, the two forming a symbiotic relationship in the God-King's quest to bring his order to fruition. To this day, the Stormcast remain in battle to cross thousands of fronts in all manner of campaigns in every corner of the mortal realms. The Age of Sigmar has been defined by them in many ways, not least for their unearing defiance against all those who would do the weak harm. For all they have lost to the Great Flaw, for all their comrades who have seen true death against wicked sorceries, for all they may no longer be able to relate to those they may shield. They forever strive to embody Sigmar's ideals of truth and justice, to be the Paragons the realms need to resist the depredations of the destructive, the dreadful and the dead. They are in many ways the ideal of the tragic hero, the noble sacrifice, for in their everlasting quest for righteousness they lose more and more of themselves to each death, becoming better and stronger warriors, yes, but also less human, more and more removed from the mortal they once were and more and more akin to an avatar of the God-King's arcane lightning than anything else. Is that not truly the most noble embodiment of the heroic ideal? To sacrifice all that you are and were, piece by piece, so that those less fortunate may have a life safer and more whole than they possibly could have, for your actions, to sell your life as coin, to buy those who cannot more time. My mind aches now, these have been the most vivid of my dreams of these fantastical realms, yes, and I fear I must rest even longer if I am to recover my grasp upon tenuous reality, until then I sleep. Ave Imperator, Gloria in Excelsis Terra. This video and this channel is made possible through the incredibly kind support of my Patreon subscribers. If you'd like to help support the channel, head on over to patreon.com forward slash Oculus Imperia if you want to kick me a buck or two to help keep the lights running and the scripts flowing. You can keep up to date with channel news if you follow me on Twitter, at butstuffkaiju, no not changing that name anytime soon, and new this month if you'd like to support the channel with some merchandise my very first t-shirts are up for sale on teespring.com forward slash Oculus Imperia. Join the channel on Discord as well, a link to all of this will be in the description below.


We're now going to work an example problem involving both mass fractions as well as mole fractions. So let me begin by writing out the question. So there's our question. We're given a question involving moist air. And so that is our gas mixture. And we're told that 78% of air is in nitrogen. 20% is in oxygen. And the remaining 2% is in water vapor. And what they want us to do is determine the mass fractions of each of the constituents within the mixture that we call air. So let's begin. What we'll be doing here is we'll be using both the concepts of mass fraction and mole fraction. So to begin with, let's write out what we know. We are told that on a molar basis, it is 78% and 2. That means that that would be the mole fraction of nitrogen. Similarly for oxygen, it is 20%. And for the water vapor, it is 2%. And the other thing that we're going to want to do at this point is we are going to want to look up the molar masses in the tables in the back of your books. So any thermodynamics book that you're using should have tables in the back. We are, I am using Chingolin bowls and there's a table. It's table A-1. And that's one where it has the different values that we will need for this. So I'll write those out now. So those are the molar masses. Now what we can do, we can use the equation that we looked at in the previous segment. And that is for the molar mass of a mixture. And if you recall, we said that it was the summation of each of the different mole fractions multiplied by the molar mass of each of the different components. So we can go through, we know the mole fractions, we know the molar masses. So we can go ahead and evaluate this for our mixture. So for our mixture in one kilomole, there is 28.61 kilograms. So we're now going to use that enabling us to determine the mass fraction. So that is the molar mass of our mixture. So let's go ahead and take a look at the mass fractions. So by the definition of mass fraction, let's take a look at nitrogen to begin with. We can say the mass of nitrogen divided by the mass of the mixture. Now the mass of nitrogen, what we're going to consider here is we're going to consider looking at only one kilomole. So in one kilomole, we can write out how many kilograms there are of nitrogen. And then that's divided by the mass of the mixture itself. And in a similar manner for oxygen and water vapor. So those are the answers that we're looking for. That's the mass fraction of nitrogen, oxygen, and the water vapor. And so with that, that concludes the example problem in giving us an application of both mass fraction as well as mole fraction.