Since the first French Revolution, monarchs have not always sat easily upon their thrones. They fancied they had cut down the Tree of Liberty after the downfall of Napoleon, and that it would never grow up again; but in a very short time it brought forth new branches, and has since borne fruit in a way which the most sanguine Republican of olden times would scarcely have ventured to predict. Since the battle of Waterloo, Europe and America--even parts of Asia and Africa--have been convulsed by rebellions, civil wars, and revolutions, which have often shaken the world to its centre. The peoples learnt to hate their rulers; and one nation after another, catching the revolutionary fire from the smouldering brand half stamped out in France, rose in rebellion against the monarch who refused them immediate enfranchisement. Again and again have the nations been compelled by force of arms to submit; but they rise again whenever they fancy they see a favourable opportunity. Thus it happened that almost every war, fought in Europe or America since Waterloo up to some ten years since, had its origin in the same cause--the struggles of nations to cast off their rulers. Amongst those states which took the initiative in raising the standard of revolt, the South American colonies of Spain and Portugal were foremost. Brazil declared its independence in 1821, and elected Don Pedro, the Crown Prince of Portugal, to be Emperor. The latter had a hard struggle to maintain his throne against not only the Portuguese troops, but against the Republicans, who composed a large party in Brazil. His emissaries were despatched all over the country, to the most distant plantations, to raise recruits for the Imperial Army. One of these messengers arrived one day at the farmhouse of Gonzalez de Almeida, a Portuguese settler in the parish of San José, on the Rio de Pax. The patriot was invited to dinner; and, mindful of his object, he endeavoured to enlist the sympathies of his host for Don Pedro. Almeida listened very attentively; but it awakened no feelings of patriotism in his breast. He was old, and could not join the army himself, nor had he a son to give. "As to giving a slave," added he, "what interest would a slave have in fighting for the independence of Brazil?" But though Almeida had no sons, he had two daughters. One of them, Doña Maria de Jesus, was desirous, for many reasons, to leave home and seek employment elsewhere. Her father had married again, and the step-mother and her young children made home exceedingly uncomfortable for Maria. She was much excited by the patriot's words; "So that at last," she said, "I felt my heart burning in my breast!" She stole from the house, and went to that of her married sister. After recapitulating the stranger's discourse, she expressed a wish that she were a man and could join the Imperial standard.