But one morn-ing the black chick-en, who had been gone ev-er since sun-rise, came back to the coop, drip-ping with dew, and a bright light in his eye—ah, that was a rogue’s eye if ev-er there were one!
An aristocrat if ever there were one, he believed none the less in the essential quality of man and deplored the economic conditions which so often tended to set up superficial and unreal barriers which make as well as separate the classes.
1952 November 1, Seth Bingham, “Master and Friend; An Intimate Sketch of Dr. Harry Jepson”, in S[iegfried] E[manuel] Gruenstein, editor, The Diapason[…], 43rd year, number 12 (516 overall), Chicago, Ill.: S. E. Gruenstein, →ISSN, page 8, column 2:
The recipient of various academic degrees and honors, Jepson, an anti-stuffed shirt if ever there were one, cared nothing for such synthetic dignity.
She was about five foot four—five nine, if you counted her gelled-up bangs. She had hoop earrings that could have doubled as stirrups and her well-developed jaw was getting a workout on a piece of chewing gum. A Jersey Girl if ever there were one.
