His name was Fleming, and he was a poor Scottish farmer. One day, while trying
to eke out 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 take him and give him a good education.
If the
lad is anything like his father, he'll grow to a man you can be proud
of."
And that he did. In time, Farmer Fleming's son 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 nobleman's son was stricken with pneumonia.
What saved him?
Penicillin.
The name of the nobleman? Lord Randolph Churchill.
His son's
name? Sir Winston Churchill.