The Detroit Jonrnal prints an interesting story of the old Lodi academy. It is written by Jerome W. Turner, of Owosso, Mich. : "Dr. E B. Ward who died at Laingsburg the otber day, has in his death revived memories of the old Lodi academy. In 1853 the vvriter of this was with him at the preparatory scohol. There were mauy others - George Landon, of Monroe; Hobert Miller, a younger brotber of Sidney T. Miller, of Detroit, who afterward died at Frankfort-on-the-Maiu; Ed. Thurber, now Dr. Thurber, of Paris ; Dr. SamuelP. Duffield of Detioit ; Ed. Wright, of Chicago; Alviu Higgins of San Francisco, ií' he yet lives; Densmore Carmer, of Aun Arbor; Cleveland Hunt. of Detroit; Edwin Willits, who diea at Washington, D. C. ; Col. William McCreary of Fliut, uow deceased, and Alexander McPherson, of ïoweJl, and now president of the Detroit National Bank. "Lu those days the "academy'' was jresided over by Prof. Nutting, who ïad tormerly kept the school at Romeo, a fine classical scholar bnt witb as little capacity for mathematics as is attributed to Combe the phrenologist! "He of ten depended on some of the more advancepd students to attand to he "figures," while he most ably conlucted the studies in the langnages. The fame of his scholarship was quite considerable, and his school out theref on the "plain" was in its day quite lotorions and sucessful. "lts bncolic features were not overooked. It was in the midt of a beautiful farming country, and was about six miles from Ann Arbor tiie uearest town that could be reached by sudents who had auy inclination to the folhes and gaieties of life. "We all "boarded around" among he farmers. I remember that Landon. Thurber, Miller, Duffield and myself lived at Ira Howe's- a mile and a half from the school. The mrsc of us, however, were expecting to go to the university, and so we often, ou Saturdïiy's, did a little extra walking. and went down to the "Athens" of the state and ruoderately enjoyed ourselves in anticipatiou of the time when we should be full fledged collegians. Dircetly acioss the road from the school thre was in those days a Presbyterian church, whose pastor was the Rev. Marsh- father of Theodore Marsh, D. D. We were all expected to attend there, and I remember many a lonesome Sunday when we listened to him in his high pulpit. The minister seemed to regard himself, as in a good measure responsible for our Christian welfare, and did not confine his efforts to his uusual and general Sabbath minstration, but pursued us personally on many occasions when perhaps we strove to avoid him. I use the word pursued, not to express any aversión to him, but rather to portray our own nutoward conduct, in soinetirnes trying to escape from him. He was a brave, good soul, long siuce gone to his reward. "Dr. Ward's father lived ou the "plains1," but curiously enongb, he was a member of the Presbyterian ehurch at Saline, and I distinctly remember of one occasion when Rev. Laird, who was then the preacher, called out to the old gentleman, right in the midst of his sermón. "Brother Ward, wake op,, or you will lose this sermón, ana I will too!" I think he had considerable "grace," for he did not seem to be anrgry, buc appeared to couttud against sleepiness, through all the rest of the discourse. He died flnally, I believe from poisou - a mistaken overdose. Yesterday - after the lapse of all the time since 1853 - I saw the romains of his sou, the doctor, taken to the cemetery.