09/02/2025
At the beginning of the 20th century, a Scottish farmer was walking home when he suddenly heard cries for help coming from a swamp. Rushing toward the sound, he found a boy trapped in the mire, struggling for his life. The farmer quickly cut a branch, reached out, and pulled the terrified child to safety. The boy, soaked and trembling, thanked his rescuer but insisted he had to return home—his father would be worried.
The next morning, a fine carriage pulled up to the farmer’s humble home. Out stepped a well-dressed gentleman who asked, “Did you save my son’s life yesterday?”
“Yes, I did,” replied the farmer.
“How much do I owe you?” the man asked.
“You owe me nothing,” the farmer said firmly. “I only did what anyone should do.”
But the gentleman insisted. The farmer refused again. Then the gentleman noticed the farmer’s young son standing nearby.
“Is this your boy?” he asked.
“Yes,” the farmer answered proudly.
“Then allow me to repay you another way,” the man said. “Let me take him to London and pay for his education. If he has his father’s character, neither of us will regret this decision.”
Years later, that boy—Alexander Fleming—became the scientist who discovered penicillin.
Not long before World War II, the son of that wealthy gentleman fell gravely ill with pneumonia. His life was saved—not by wealth or status, but by penicillin.
The boy whose life was saved in the swamp had grown into Winston Churchill, the future Prime Minister of Britain.
Perhaps it was this chain of events that Churchill had in mind when he later said:
“What you give will come back to you.”
