Most amiable of all this amiable race was the late Sir Charles Isham, who did indeed give Lamport a kind of minor celebrity. I think he was the gentlest and courtliest of creatures, who, if indeed he left the world in no respect better than he found it, at least left it none the worse, and, ending at a ripe old age a rather aimless life, was regretted in perhaps a derogatory way as “a harmless old gentleman.” Thus lived and died the tenth Baronet, defeating the superstition that all baronets are bad. For over forty years he busied himself in constructing a miniature rock-garden at one side of the Hall. Amid boulders piled up to represent a mountain-range, with gullies, rock-pools and caves, he planted dwarf-trees and rare shrubs of the stunted kind the Japanese know so well how to grow; and there he placed among the caves and on the miniature cliffs, groups of little gnomes: fairy miners, with wheelbarrows and pickaxes, with the verse: Eight hours’ work, Eight hours’ play, Eight hours’ sleep, And eight bob a day. Day after day he would sit contemplating this life-work, with one of his pet hawks on his wrist, and his tame owls in the holes he had constructed for them overhead. And now the hawks and the owls are gone, and the rock-garden is uncared for. In Lamport church a monumental brass with long inscription to his wife reveals the man he was: Emily Wife of the tenth Baronet commenced real life Sept. 6th, 1898, aged 74 years, after an union of 51 years with her thankful husband, who through spiritual light finds that joy is triumphant over grief. Thoughtful towards others, Kindness itself, Beloved by all, At her dear wish is added this Message,— “Bear ye one another’s burdens.” [Sidenote: _EPITAPH_] _The last words were: “I’m dying” No! my wife, This is the Portal of the Higher Life: I spoke no more, and neither did I weep. Next morn at nine she passed in sweetest sleep. Sleep on! Sleep on, my Dearest; sleep your best; After such years of weariness now rest. Or are you full awake? It may be so; Or in some happy dreamland? who doth know, That home-made elm casket deftly wrought, Betokens love: also inspired the thought. Although at times we might not quite agree, All knew I lived for you, and you for me. Oh! lovely Lamport, now she’s gone from here, I have consigned thee to my cousin Vere. I spake these words in truth_, I SHOW I SHAM NOT, _Isham I am, and Isham yet I am not. The second motto_ “IN THINGS TRANSITORY RESTETH” _(and not without some truth)_ “NO GLORY,” _But still, may gifts from Heaven on thee rest, And thus that house be glorified and blest_. _Whatever there may still remain of life, At night and morn I contemplate my wife, And at the time appointed may we meet, And her sweet Spirit be the first to greet. Reader, observe, the life inscribed above, Evinced much happiness, more pain, most love._