Wherever the birthplace of the Maori, it lay within the tropics. The nearer the equator, the shorter the interval between day and night, and thus it was that the Maori, struck by the beauty of a phenomenon wholly unfamiliar, styled their new home in affectionate admiration, _Ao-tea-roa_, "The Land of the Long Lingering Day," or "The Land of Twilight." Always poetical, others called it _Aotea_, or "The Land of the Dawn." These charming subtitles did not displace the original name, _Te Ika A Maui_, or, as some have it, _Eaheinomawe_,[20] but they serve to show the poetic mind of the Maori. Later on, the Middle Island received its native appellation, _Te Wai Pounamou_, or "The Waters of Greenstone," while _Ra Ki Ura_, "In the Glow of the Sun," denoted Stewart Island, the small triangle which forms the southern extremity of New Zealand. So they came to their own, these handsome, stalwart men, and "black, but comely" women. You may see a group of them there upon the western beach, led by Te Turi, one of the pioneer chiefs who received this new jewel among countries from the hands of the gods. Perhaps they landed at dawn, for Te Turi called the place of disembarkation _Aotea_, which is literally "The White Day"; but he may have named the harbour out of compliment to the canoe which had carried them so far in safety, for it, too, was _Aotea_. The white day swiftly turns to blue and gold, and all fatigue is forgotten for pure joy of being. The glory of summer is everywhere, and over all is that exquisite charm which belongs to _Ao-tea-roa_ more than to any of the isles of the iridescent Southern Sea. Westward, the great ocean heaves and sparkles in the morning sun--not a cloud that way from zenith to horizon. Southward, far away, Ruapehu lifts his time-worn, snowy head three thousand feet above grim Tongariro's sullen, smoking cones, gazing ever where his ancient comrade, hoary Taranaki,[21] dwells in solitude by the thundering sea. Long ago, these mighty ones stood shoulder to shoulder; but Taranaki, forgetting friendship, seized Pihinga, Tongariro's love, and strove to bear her away. Then Tongariro arose in his wrath, belching forth smoke and flames and red-hot stones, and smote Taranaki such a buffet that the giant reeled away, nor stopped until he reached the sea. Never did Taranaki return to his comrades. Alone he broods, rearing his great body eight thousand feet above the tide, his stricken head hidden under a veil of perennial snow.