In any case Sir Amyas only lived eighteen months after the Queen’s execution, and died soon after his return from the negotiations at Ostend for peace with Spain. Perhaps he endured hardships in that devastated Netherland country, where partridges were plentiful because the tilled land had become a wilderness. In any case the negotiations did not avert the Spanish Armada, and Sir Amyas died in September, 1588, a month after it had perished. He must have breathed more freely when the waves closed over the Spanish galleons, for in Queen Mary’s last letter to the Spanish ambassador, Mendoza, she had bidden him tell King Philip not to forget how she had been used by certain men, and among their names was that of Sir Amyas Poulett. Beneath the recumbent figure there is a curious French epitaph to this quondam Governor of Jersey, in which are some touching lines— “Non, non, je ne croy pas qu’un si petit de Terre Couvre tant de Virtus, ait esteint tant d’Honneur, Que ce preux Chavalier, ce renommé Seigneur, Avoit acquis en Paix, avoit acquis en Guerre.” His widow Margaret contributed a loving Latin epitaph, which may have been composed by herself in this age when Latin was no uncommon accomplishment for a lady. Queen Elizabeth puts her royal initials above a verse on the right hand of the figure— “Never shall cease to spread wise Poulet’s fame, These will speak and men will blush for shame; Without offence to speak what I do know, Great is the debt England to him doth owe.” There are other inscriptions playing upon the characteristic words of his motto, _Garde la Foy_, and the three swords of his crest; but it is time for us to leave the stone precincts and mount the old tower, from which we get an exquisite view of the surrounding country and the rambling old house. The most ancient part of the present building was the work of Sir Amyas’ grandfather. The present front was built by the first Earl Poulett, Queen Anne’s minister. We cannot help regretting the “right goodly manor place of free stone with two goodly towers embattled in the inner court,” which old Leland saw in Henry VIII.’s days; but we may rejoice that the pretty wings remain in which “the slabs of the sandstone of the country forming the outer walls are cut in the shape of the rounded stones of the sea-shore.” When gay flowers again relieve the long line of stone, and a touch of green is added to the rows of white jalousies, perhaps a look of home will return to the old mansion.