His name was Fleming, and he was a poor
Scottish farmer. One day, while trying
to make a living for his family, he
heard a cry for help coming from a
nearby bog. He dropped his tools and ran
to the bog.
There, mired to his
waist in black muck, was a terrified
boy, screaming and struggling to free
himself. Farmer Fleming saved the lad
from what could have been a slow and
terrifying death.
The next day, a
fancy carriage pulled up to the
Scotsman's sparse surroundings. An
elegantly dressed nobleman stepped out
and introduced himself as the father of
the boy Farmer Fleming had saved.
"I
want to repay you," said the nobleman.
"You saved my son's life."
"No, I
can't accept payment for what I did,"
the Scottish farmer replied waving off
the offer. At that moment, the farmer's
own son came to the door of the family
hovel.
"Is that your son?" the
nobleman asked.
"Yes," the farmer
replied proudly.
"I'll make you a
deal. Let me provide him with the level
of education my own son will enjoy. If
the lad is anything like his father,
he'll no doubt grow to be a man we both
will be proud of." And that he did.
Farmer Fleming's son attended the
very best schools and in time, graduated
from St. Mary's Hospital Medical School
in London, and went on to become known
throughout the world as the noted Sir
Alexander Fleming, the discoverer of
Penicillin.
Years afterward, the
same nobleman's son who was saved from
the bog was stricken with pneumonia.
What saved his life this time?
Penicillin.
The name of the
nobleman? Lord Randolph Churchill. His
son's name?
Sir Winston Churchill.
Someone once said: What goes
around comes around.