Commodore Merrill B. Mills, of Detroit, has brought his yacht _Cynthia_ to New York from Florida waters, and when he reached the Hotel Wolcott, his friends took it that the season down there was officially closed, though partisans of Doctor H. W. Lawton, whose exploits in the fishing line have often crept into print, insisted that this could not be said until the doctor arrived in New York in his palace-car automobile, an event which has not yet been chronicled. At the same time, the stories of the recent exploits of Commodore Mills that gained currency soon after his arrival indicated that he has had an unusually satisfactory season. In the first place, there was the rumor that Commodore Mills had landed some of the biggest tarpon that have risen to cheer the visitor to Florida in many years; and the tales of his other catches would fill an aquarium--if the fish did not. But the story that went furthest was the tale of how Commodore Mills, just before giving the skipper of the _Cynthia_ the word to “head her for the Hook,” had cast a tarpon line overboard, and had hauled up, single-handed, a pair of life-sized sharks, one of them with the head of a man in its mouth. The story of the catch, as it was given by a supposedly veracious person at the Wolcott--Commodore Mills not being then available--ran this way: “The morning was uncomfortably hot, and the commodore, who had come to the conclusion that if he didn’t hurry North, the hot season would get here before him. However, he decided to cast a line in the ocean for a farewell bit of sport, and the yacht being some distance from the coast at the time, she was hove to, and her owner cast a tarpon line over the taffrail. “Immediately, it seemed, came a tug at it. The commodore began to play his catch as he would a tarpon, but the line did not behave in the same way. What was on the other end, just tugged, and before he could get a half hitch on a convenient cleat, the line had run out almost its full length. “Then the yachtsman pulled and pulled, but the fish would not come any nearer. First one husky sailor after another was called to assist, but there was no result. Finally the commodore had an idea. Surely there could be nothing smaller than a whale on the end of that line--a remarkably stout one it was, by the way, as you will see. He was anxious to get it aboard his vessel, if possible. “He decided there was only one way this might be accomplished. So he had the end run through the block on the end of one of the davits, and it was gradually worked in far enough to enable one end to be taken to the winch. Then the winch was worked just as if they were raising the anchor, only very slowly.