Christmas day was bright and clear; the children were in fine spirits, and their parents happy in seeing them so. In the evening, when all was still, when the table was drawn close beside a good fire, when the curtains were closed, and Mrs. B. was seated in the corner of the sofa which she usually occupied, with her four children around her, the following dialogue commenced. “I believe all my children, except little Mary, know why this is called _Christmas day_.” “And I know too, mamma,” said a little girl, of six years old: “do you dear,” said her mother, “then you shall tell me why?” “I have heard you tell my brothers and Emma that Christ was supposed to be born on that day.” “That is right, and you are a good girl, for noticing, and remembering my instructions. Emma, can you tell me where he was born?” “In the town of Bethlehem, in the country of Judea.” “Can you tell me any of the circumstances which attended his birth, George?” “He was born in a stable, because there was no room for him in the inn: and he was wrapt in swaddling clothes, and laid in a manger.” “When we think,” said Mrs. Barrington, “that the Lord of heaven and earth was born in a stable, should it not make us thankful, that he has provided more comfortable accommodations for us? It should also teach us humility, when we consider, that we are in comparison but worms of the dust; and that it is his goodness which supplies us with every thing needful to shelter and comfort us.” “Mamma,” said Emma, “what do you mean by humility?” “That we should not pride ourselves on what we possess, because we know that it is all given to us by God, or rather lent to us, as long as he chooses we should have it. For the Scriptures, which are the word of truth, say, that ‘the earth is the Lord’s, and the fulness thereof.’ To be humble is to be meek, not thinking ourselves better than others. You know Mr. Eastburne; I call him an humble man, he is lowly minded, and meek, and is constantly going about following the example of his Saviour, doing good to every one. Yet he never talks about himself, or what he has done; and if you would meet him without knowing who he was, you would, from his appearance, think he had no pretensions to the character he has obtained; he is so unostentatious, and so _humble_, that to learn something of him, you would have to go to the house of the sick person he has been visiting, or the poor family for whom he is interesting himself, not only occasionally, but almost every day of his life.”