In the north chancel is the monument of Percival Cresacre, a richly decorated altar-tomb under a flat arch, at the crown of which is the family arms, viz. three lions rampant, purple, on a gold shield. The effigies of Cresacre is in fine preservation, composed of carved oak, and representing a knight in a suite of plate armour, with his arms painted on a shield, and an animal (supposed to be a lion) at his feet. His sword which hung from his belt has been taken away, and both monuments are decorated with the favorite device of the family, a rosary of beads. [Sidenote: Contest between the lord of the manor and a wild cat.] Map| Names of Places. | County. |Number of Miles From | +--+--------------------+----------+----------+----------+ 30|Barnby-in-Willows pa|Nottingham|Newark 4|Lincoln 16| 37|Barnes pa|Surrey |Kingston 6|Chiswick 2| 37|Barn-Elms[A] ham|Surrey | ... 6| ... 2| +--+--------------------+----------+----------+----------+ |Dist.| Map| Names of Places. |Number of Miles From |Lond.|Population. +--+--------------------+---------------------+-----+----+ 30|Barnby-in-Willows pa|Grantham 14| 124| 237| 37|Barnes pa|Wandsworth 3| 5|1417| 37|Barn-Elms[A] ham| ... 3| 5| | +--+--------------------+---------------------+-----+----+ [A] BARN-ELMS. On the adjoining common stood the house in which the members of the celebrated Kit Cat Club assembled. Their original place of meeting was in London, but Jacob Tonson, the bookseller, who was their secretary, caused it to be transferred to a house belonging to himself, at Barn-Elms, and built a handsome room for their accommodation. The portrait of each member was painted by Sir Godfrey Kneller, but the apartment not being sufficiently large to receive half-length pictures, a shorter canvas was adopted, and hence proceeded the technical term of Kit Cat size. We give a further account of this club from the graphic pen of Sir Richard Phillips, in his "Morning's Walk from London to Kew," 1817. "A lane in the north-west corner of the common brought me to Barn-Elms, where now resides a Mr. Hoare, a banker, of London. The family were from home, and I had some difficulty to gain admittance, the servants knowing nothing either of the club, or its former occupant. A walk covered with docks, thistles, nettles, and high grass, led from the remains of a gateway in the garden wall to the door which opened into the building. Ah! thought I, through this desolate avenue, the finest geniuses in England daily proceeded to meet their friends. Yet, within a century, how changed--how deserted--how revolting! A cold chill seized me as the man unfastened the decayed door, and I beheld the once elegant hall filled with cobwebs, a fallen ceiling, and accumulating rubbish. The door on the left led to a