NationStates Jolt Archive

Short Factbook:

Map of Canada Proper:

http://www.bouletfermat.com/backgrounds/canada_circa_1900/dominion_of_canada_map_c1900_1600x1200.jpg

Provinces of the Confederation:
Nova Scotia (1867)
New Brunswick (1867)
Quebec (1867)
Ontario (1867)
Manitoba (1871)
British Columbia (1870)
Flag of the Confederation:

http://www.pch.gc.ca/progs/cpsc-ccsp/images/flag_red_ensign.gif

Population: 3,754,000 citizens
Seat of Power: Ottawa
Type of Government: Parliamentary Monarchy
Head of State:
de facto: Queen Victoria I (http://www.rogerco.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/pixs/winterh.jpg)
de jure: Governor-General John Young, 1st Baron Lisgar (http://www1.sympatico.ca/news/otd/images/otd.98.12.29.b.lg.gif)
Head of Government: Prime Minister Sir John Alexander Macdonald (http://www.newworldcelts.org/sir_john_alexander_macdonald_files/image001.gif)

Exsisting Military Services: Royal Canadian Army
Total Military Forces: 31,800 Officers and Enlisted
Method of Recruitment: Conscription (Men 18-60 avalible for conscription)
Method of Mobilization: Reserve System
Time Required for Full Mobilization: 18 days

Foreign Relations:

Under British Administration

Economic Affairs:

Type of Economy: Protectionist Capitalism

Current Ratings:
Agriculture: Moderate
Industry: Moderate/Poor
Natural Resources: Very Good
Infrastructure: Moderate
Trade: Moderate/Good
Currency Stability: Moderate
Labor Relations: Moderate/Good
Note: Agricultural, Industrial and Infastructure Ratings have been averaged together into one rating. Actual conditions vary across the country.

Currency in Use: Canadian Dollar (Gold Standard)
Exchange Rates:
C$4.90 = £1
C$1 = $1
Primary Trade Partners: The United States, Great Britain
Primary Exports: Timber, Fur, Fish, Foodstuffs, Dairy Products, Light Industrial Machinery, Agricultural Equipment
Primary Imports: Iron, Coal, Heavy Industrial Machinery, Military Ordinance

[More to come]

tag

July 20th, 1871

Ottawa, Ontario
Houses of Parliament

The gavel banged again and again as the bickering politicians who sneered and groveled continued their sneering and groveling at a rapid, but silent pace. However, with Prime Minister, His Most Honorable Sir John MacDonald, standing at attention, a scowl stretched across his features hinting at his lack of toleration for such bickerings, the good graces of silence spread across the hall as would an infectous disease.

"Thank you, my dear gentleman." the Prime Minister sighed. "In recognizing the needs for promoting a united Canadian Confederacy along with the needs of our nation's growing Industry, it has been suggested and agreed upon by many of you below that a new future a rail transportation should be heralded in full. Thus, I call upon each and every one of you, in your infinate wisdom, to ratify the agreement within the palm of my hand for a brighter future."

Stepping down from the podium, the Prime Minister returned to his seat near the front of the room.

5 minutes were then alotted for each man to cast his vote, a vote that would change the course of the Dominion. But due to the constraints of proposed plan, which called for enmormus sums of government money in the form of land grants to the suggested companies that had been intended to embark on such ventures, along with unatractiveness of the desired route which would stretch through the barren Canadian Shield of northern Ontario, support for the project faltered and the bill was rejected by a staggering majority.

However, this would not be the end for such dreams.

November 17th, 1871

Ottawa, Ontario
Local Resturant

"I can assure you Mr. Allan that your company's interests in this matter will take precedent over all others." noted Prime Minister MacDonald as he dived his fork into the simmering steak below his neatly trimmed suit.

Across the small table from the Prime Minister, Hugh Allan, President of the newly established Canada Pacific Railway Company, nodded in approval.

"Excellent. It is of the best of intentions then that this new plan of yours get past. After all, time is money and I don't have alot of time left, especially after the antics those boys of yours pulled a couple days ago. Almost pulled the whole kit & caboodle apart with those flappin mouths of there's."

"They've been taken care of." replied MacDonald quietly before cutting off another piece of his meal and sticking it into his mouth. "Just make sure your next "payment" finds its way into my Bank and soon enough we'll be in on the track to success."

"Now that's what I want to hear!" replied Allan with a laugh.

The 'Ding' of two champgane glasses could be heard across the room, as the scheme continued on at full speed.

February 2nd, 1872

Ottawa, Ontario
Local Telegraph Station

For first-time telegraph operator Max Stammerson, life was good. Since his escape from the inhospitiable lumber-camps of northern Canada, Max had been a happy man, moving from place to place in search of a less...demanding job that would still suit his interests. Three weeks ago, he found that job at a small telegraph station a mile outside of the capitol.

Although Max had never worked with such a complex devise (being raised in rual western Canada contributed to such defficencies), he got the job after the previous operator died from an untimely heart-attack and another operator was needed immedeately to keep the station in business.

Now, as the golden-red sunset slowly fell across the horizon, he and his partner, Jacob Hurley, started cleaning up the place, a daily routine which consisted of picking up crumbled pieces of yellow paper, discarded trash and scraps of food left upon the floor, while sweeping the same very floor of the thick brown dust that always seemed to find its way into the shop.

By now, usually, the telegraph was shut off but on this night, Jacob, in his haste to clean up the shop so he could return home early, forgot that tiny detail which was soon noticed by Max as he passed by the counter upon which the device sat.

"Hey Jake." he shouted. "You forgot to turn off the damn tele-"

At that moment, a series of beeps began to fill the room.

A message this late? thought Max with confusion as he went to grab a piece of paper and pencil.

Then with pencil in hand, Max quickly scribbled down the message and almost fell over when he put the words together.

TO: Mr. Hugh Allan
FROM: Sir John A. MacDonald

I must have another $10,000. Will be the last time of calling. Do not fail me. Answer today.

"Jesus Christ!" exclaimed Max, dropping his pencil in amazement. "Jake come take a look at this!"

Rushing over to the table, Jake, with a puzzled look etched upon his young features, took the message in hand and quickly read it.

"By God, are you sure you copied this down right?" Jake asked skeptically, pointing the document in question while staring at his companion's own set of brown eyes.

"I swear to God, those exact words." replied Max. "So what in the hell are we gonna do. It's not like we can take this to the police, they're all MacDonald's lackies."

"I've got an idea." said Jake, turning to leave the small shack, message in hand.

"Where are you going?" Max anxiously asked, his eyes wide with fear.

"Somewhere safe." Jake replied with a grin before closing the door behind him and stepping out into the frigid Canadian winter.

March 11th, 1872

Toronto, Ontario
Local Garrison

A young messenger rode through the paved streets of Toronto, pushing his horse faster and faster in and among the crowds of pedestrians that had gathered in the past hours and were now feverishly fleeing the scene to prevent being trampled upon.

Minutes later, the young man rode into the gate of the Toronto Royal Armory and quickly dismounted his horse before being confronted by a Military Policemen outside the entrance.

"State you purpose, soldier." the officer ordered.

"I bring this stachel to Colonel Garnet Wolseley from the Houses of Parliament in Ottawa. It is of the utmost importance that he get this as soon as possible!" the messenger replied, handing the brown leather stachel to the guard.

"Then I shall take it to him immedeately. You may go." the guard responded on his way into the building.

Moments Later...

"By God, have the Danes gone mad!!" exclaimed the Colonel, setting down the copy of the declaration upon his large desk. "To challenge the might of the British Empire after being whipped by those German upstarts only a few years ago. I cannot believe it."

To his side, a fellow Lieutenant simply chuckled.

"I don't think it matters whether or not this King George has a brain in his skull. It looks like we have alot of work to do."

"Indeed we do," noted the Wolseley, removing the remainder of the contents held within the stachel laying out on the table. "So let make our start. Lieutenant, I need you to get in contact with the British Admirality in Halifax, along with the other garrisons in Montreal and Ottawa as soon as possible. I want an Expeditionary Force organized by the end of the month."

"Aye, sir. I'm on it." replied the Lieutenant as he pushed himself from his seat and left the room.

Meanwhile, the Colonel glanced at the maps before him, a grin etched across his face.

OOC: Sorry to get your hopes up, but no war now.


IC: Her Majesty Thanks the Dominion of Canada for their support in the Crisis, Your support will be well remembered in the future

Thank you.