But, though nature has given us such sublime triumphs of her raw material, these have no history, no spirit. They tell to us no story of the past; and poetry has not crowned them with a diadem of romance. Hence their effect is partly lost, and when we New Zealanders go "home" for a trip, we find a charm in the time-hallowed landscapes of the Old World, above and beyond all our greater scenic glories here. Still, here and there in this new land, we have contrived to invest some special spot with a kind of infant spirit or baby romance of its own. Here and there our short history has left a landmark, or Maori tradition a monument. Already we are beginning to value these things; already we are conscious of the added interest they give to our scenery. But to our children's children, and to their descendants, some of these places will speak with more vivid earnestness. They will appreciate the stories that as yet are so new, and will take a rare and lively pleasure in the scenery enriched by the tale of their pioneer ancestors, or by legends of the native race that then will be extinct. New Zealand has even now what may be termed its "classic ground," as will be found in another chapter. But there exists a great deal of Maori tradition connected with various spots, and some of us do the best we can to preserve the tales that adorn certain localities. Some of the legends are mythological. Of such sort is that which gives such vivid interest to lonely Cape Reinga; the place where the spirits of dead Maori take their plunge into the sea, on their way from earth to the next world. Such, too, is the dragon legend, the tale of the Taniwha, which graces the volcanic country in the interior. Besides these are the numerous stories of a more historical sort, incidents of love and war, which hang around the places where they happened. A country like this, so rich in natural beauties, so filled with the glories and magnificences of the Creator's hand, is surely-- "Meet nurse for a poetic child." It is not surprising, then, that we find the Maori character actively alive to such impressions. The oldest men absolutely revel in the abundance of the tales, both prose and poetry, that they are able to relate about the scenes around them. But Young Maori is more civilized, and does not trouble his head so much with these old narratives. It is well, then, that some should be preserved while that is possible.