"You tell me I am always thinking of my first-born; I might retort by saying you are always thinking of the other; but it is the way of women always to side with the second-born.

There's what's her name in the Bible, by whose wiles the old blind man was induced to give to his second son the blessing which was the birthright of the other.

I wish I had been in his place! I should not have been so easily deceived! no disguise would ever have caused me to mistake an impostor for my first-born.

Though I must say for this boy that he is nothing like Jacob; he is neither smooth nor sleek, and, though my second-born, he is already taller and larger than his brother." "Just so," said my mother, "his brother would make a far better Jacob than he." "I will hear nothing against my first-born," said my father, "even in the way of insinuation: he is my joy and pride; the very image of myself in my youthful days, long before I fought Big Ben; though perhaps not quite so tall or strong built.

As for the other, God bless the child! I love him, I'm sure; but I must be blind not to see the difference between him and his brother.