His name was Fleming, and he was a poor\u00a0Scottish farmer.
\nOne day, while trying to make a living for his family, he\u00a0heard a cry
\nfor help coming from a nearby \u00a0bog.
\nHe dropped his tools\u00a0and ran to the bog.There, mired to his waist in
\nblack muck, was a\u00a0terrified boy, screaming and struggling to free
\nhimself.
\nFarmer Fleming\u00a0saved the lad from what could have been a slow and
\nterrifying death.
\nThe\u00a0next \u00a0day, a fancy carriage pulled up to the \u00a0Scotsman’s sparse
\nsurroundings. An elegantly dressed nobleman stepped out and introduced
\nhimself as the father of the boy Farmer Fleming had saved.
\n„I want to repay\u00a0you,“ said \u00a0the nobleman. „You saved my son’s life.“
\n“No, \u00a0I can’t accept\u00a0payment for what I did,“ the Scottish farmer
\nreplied waving off the offer.
\nAt that moment, \u00a0the farmer’s own son came to the door of the family\u00a0hovel.
\n„Is that your son?'“the nobleman asked.
\n„Yes,“ the farmer replied\u00a0proudly.
\n„I’ll make you a deal. Let me provide him with the level \u00a0of
\neducation my own son will enjoy. If the lad is \u00a0anything like his
\nfather,\u00a0he’ll no doubt grow to be a \u00a0man we both will be proud of“.
\nAnd that he\u00a0did. \u00a0Farmer Fleming’s son attended the very best schools
\nand in time,\u00a0graduated from St. Mary’s Hospital Medical School in
\nLondon , \u00a0and went on\u00a0to become known throughout the world as the
\nnoted\u00a0Sir Alexander Fleming, \u00a0the discoverer of Penicillin.
\nYears \u00a0afterward,\u00a0the same nobleman’s son who was saved from the bog
\nwas stricken with\u00a0pneumonia. What saved his life this time?
\nPenicillin. \u00a0And the name of the\u00a0nobleman? \u00a0Lord Randolph Churchill
\n… \u00a0His son’s name? \u00a0Sir Winston\u00a0Churchill.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
His name was Fleming, and he was a poor\u00a0Scottish farmer. One day, while trying to make a living for his family, he\u00a0heard a cry for help coming from a nearby \u00a0bog. He dropped his tools\u00a0and ran to the bog.There, mired to his waist in black muck, was a\u00a0terrified boy, screaming and struggling to free himself. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1,15],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-10858","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-other","category-stories"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/teachingstories.briancullen.net\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10858","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/teachingstories.briancullen.net\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/teachingstories.briancullen.net\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/teachingstories.briancullen.net\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/teachingstories.briancullen.net\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=10858"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/teachingstories.briancullen.net\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10858\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":11271,"href":"https:\/\/teachingstories.briancullen.net\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10858\/revisions\/11271"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/teachingstories.briancullen.net\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=10858"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/teachingstories.briancullen.net\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=10858"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/teachingstories.briancullen.net\/de\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=10858"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}