KADOTA FIG 



tKcta ,'iit Jevpry.'Way. ' Does not this fig thrive in adversity, regard- 

 less of outside assistance or abuse, and will it not produce an abundance of 

 fruit, poor and imperfect to be sure, not true at heart in all cases, yet a splen- 

 did product is obtained when transplanted to proper soil, and under correct 

 conditions, and yielding readily to the influences of the wasp, which we may 

 liken unto the pollen of civilization, which that race of people so hungrily 

 long for and respond to when given? 



Are the people of that land and this fruit of those people not twins, fair of 

 face and color, typical in life and spirit? Each imperfect, yet swiftly re- 

 rponding to betterment when correctly applied? It strikes me so. 



Was it not the Moor, strong and sturdy, dark of skin and warm of heart, 

 that transplanted from the shores of Tripoli to the hills of ancient Spain, a 

 dark-skinned fig, each a conqueror in its own way, winning the land and 

 the love of the people? 



In after centuries, was it not the dark-skinned Padres of old Spain whose 

 indomitable spirit and loving kindly ways blazed the Christian trails into 

 our western lands, bringing comfort and spiritual cheer, and implanting with 

 their blessings this same old fig in the sun-kissed lands of California? Does 

 not this fig image an exact reproduction of these patient and blessed men 

 who gave this fig and their lives to us? Does it not furnish physical shade 

 and protection, temporal food and spiritual inspiration and lasting blessings? 

 Are its fruits not sweet and pure, dark in color, yet never failing in time and 

 season? Are not these fruits like the silent Padres of old, ever welcome in 

 humblest home, to lordly mansion, bringing peace and consolation to us all? 

 Are they not almost one? 



Now comes the Kadota, a product of our land and time. Almost with 

 meteoric speed and splendor, from out our western skies comes this fair-faced 

 visitor, like gracious maiden through parted curtains, a vision of beauty and 

 a joy. 



Springing from the soils of our thrice blessed land comes the product -of 

 cur century. Its golden fruit, snuggling in velvet foliage of deep dark green, 

 comes like the vision through parted portieres. With a speed and swiftness, 

 like our lives and actions, comes this child of our dreams. How very like 

 our people is this tree and its fruit. Impatient of all delay it brushes aside 

 all granted prerogatives of its cousins of old; from babyhood it yields its 

 products with an assurance and a certainty of the precocious child that it is. 



Its swiftness and marvels of achievement exactly mirror our age and time; 

 its generosity and fair play image the men of our western empire, while its 

 sweetness and tenderness are the spirit of our women, swaying to every im- 

 pulse for betterment and improvement, yet always true and steadfast wherever 

 placed by fortune or conditions. 



It meets our every demand for speed and certainty. In our race against 

 t'me we never lose sight of fair play and justice. A perfect product for a 

 given stipend is motto alike for man and fig, and in its travels, imprisoned in 

 walls of glass, it carries visions of golden sunrise fanned by gentle zephyrs, 

 laden with scent of blooming fields and gardens. 



Or, wrapped in waxen paper, the freshly gathered fruit of golden radi- 

 ance we send like graceful carrier pigeon, bearing a message to our Eastern 

 cities, from these lands of music and pleasure, of sunshine and plenty, beside 

 our Sunset Sea. 



