There seems a magic in the very name of Christmas. Petty jealousies and discords are forgotten; social feelings are awakened in bosoms to which they have long been strangers; father and son, or brother and sister, who have met and passed with averted gaze, or a look of cold recognition, for months before, proffer and return the cordial embrace, and bury their past animosities in their present happiness.

Charles Dickens (1812-1870) English writer and social critic

Sketches by Boz, “Characters,” ch. 2 “A Christmas Dinner” (1833-36)
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