I have been unable to get at any correct data respecting the number of adherents of the various denominations in the Province for the year 1830. The total number of ministers did not reach 150, while they now exceed 2,500. [Footnote: The number of ministers, as given in the Journals of the House of Assembly for 1831, are 57 Methodist, 40 Baptist, 14 Presbyterian, and 32 Church of England. For the last I am indebted to Dr. Scadding.] There were but three churches in Toronto, then called York. One of these was an Episcopalian Church, occupying the present site of St. James's Cathedral. It was a plain wooden structure, 50 by 40, with its gables facing east and west; the entrance being by a single door off Church Street. [Footnote: _Toronto of Old._] The others were a Presbyterian and a Methodist church. The latter was built in 1818, and was a long, low building, 40 by 60. In the gable end, facing King Street, were two doors, one for each sex, the men occupying the right and the women the left side of the room. It was warmed in winter by a rudely constructed sheet-iron stove. The usual mode of lighting it for night services was by tallow candles placed in sconces along the walls, and in candlesticks in the pulpit. I am sure I shall be safe in saying that there were not 150 churches or chapels all told in the Province. All of them were small, and many of them were of the most humble character. There are probably as many clergymen and more than half as many churches in Toronto now, as there were in all Upper Canada fifty years ago. The difference does not consist in the number of the latter alone but in the size and character of the structures. The beautiful and commodious churches, with their lofty spires and richly arranged interiors, that meet the gaze on every hand in Toronto, have not inappropriately given it the proud title of "the city of churches," and there are several of them, any one of which would comfortably seat the entire population of York in the days of which I have spoken. There were no organs, and I am not sure that there were any in America. Indeed, if there had been the good people of those days would have objected to their use. Those who remember the three early churches I have mentioned--and those who do not can readily picture them with their fittings and seating capacity--will recall the dim, lurid light cast on the audience by the flickering candles. Turn, now, for example, to the Metropolitan Church on an evening's service. Notice the long carpeted aisles, the rich upholstery, the comfortable seats, the lofty ceilings, the spacious gallery and the vast congregation. An unseen hand touches an electric battery, and in a moment hundreds of gas jets are aflame, and the place is filled with a blaze of light. Now the great organ heaves its thrilling thunders, compressing air into music, and rolling it forth upon the soul. Surely the contrast is almost incredible, and