There is a house at Scaynes Hill run by a clergyman, the Rev. Frederic Willet. But his idea of a model public house did not commend itself to the villagers, who decided to give the manager a warm reception on the day of his arrival. Consequently his appearance on the scene was deferred for a day. On his showing his face in the taproom, he was mockingly requested to favour the assembled company with a song, and to the astonishment of all he responded with a rousing ditty that put them in good humour. The features common to the houses mentioned are to be found at the Anchor, and so is the accommodation that in the summer the house is usually crowded with tourists. Intoxicants are not allowed in the club-room, which takes the place of the ordinary village reading room. The place is closed on Sunday, but a seven days’ licence enables a genuine bona fide to be supplied. Perhaps the Anchor’s most novel attraction is a cricket field. Here, as at the other places, drunkenness has practically disappeared. Other improvements have taken place, for in the old days Scaynes Hill bore rather an evil character.