Amidst the deep terrific swell By myriad noises made, An echo from the ramparts fell-- The measured tread of the Sentinel In solitude and shade. And to and fro, from hour to hour, His deep slow step was heard, Nor could the firemen there have pass'd Without the secret word. Thus, silent 'midst a tumult wild; Thus, lonely 'midst a throng; Thus, bent his usual watch to keep, As though the Fortress were asleep, Shadow'd in drear and dead midnight, Yet neighbour'd by that living light, The Sentry paced along! L. B. MISS ADELAIDE KEMBLE. The month "in which Englishmen hang and drown themselves," has this year been signalised by first appearances;--the Heir-Apparent, Heaven bless him! having chosen to arrive in the midst of the bell-ringing and jollity of Lord Mayor's Day. Though a less glorious, scarcely a less welcome one--to all play-goers, artists, honest subjects "moved by concord of sweet sounds," and poets clinging to recollections of departed Genius--has been the entrance of "Norma" at Covent Garden. The artist has well caught her attitude on that evening as she advanced to take her place before her altar: as yet silent. We cannot keep pace with him, or write down a twentieth of the cheers of welcome that burst from heart and hand. Rarely have plaudits been so well merited! What the Druidess may or may not do for the musical drama in England, let her own oracles expound. We are not prophets, but recorders; and while she is taking care for the future, we have but to say a word or two touching the past career of MISS ADELAIDE KEMBLE. As to the date of her birth-day, that concerns not us. We are reserved when ladies are in the case; and are contented to remind the public that she is the younger daughter of Mr. Charles Kemble--that, to the dramatic heritage derived from him, she adds a right to the musician's gift, being child of one who, some years since, made the name of De Camp famous, as belonging to one of the most fascinating stage-singers of the time. Every circumstance, therefore, of position and education combined to develop the talents which nature had given her. The air she breathed was a stimulus to perpetuate the most classical traditions of music and the drama. To this was added consciousness of the honourable position always maintained by her family, and their liberal general cultivation--exciting her to do her part also, and to become, not merely a voice--not merely a _gesture_ personified, but an artist: that is, a gifted intelligence, to whom voice and gesture serve but as means of expressing its "fancies chaste and noble," and its elevated conceptions. Miss Kemble has trained herself for her profession, with that thorough-going industry and ardour, without which there are no Siddonses, no Pastas, no Malibrans. Like the second distinguished woman named, her voice, though amply