A little girl twelve,
A man twenty-four
Sat by the lake,
They had never met before.

Soon he knew that he loved her,
He felt that she knew.
He took her hand in his
and said, "I love you."

Her eyes met his,
They were so blue.
The answer came softly,
I'm glad you do.

                          Ellen Taylor Ulrich               

Forward

	When I decided to retype “Sketches of a True Story,”  I had two versions with which to work.  One is in the possession of Mrs. Margaret Oakley of Kenansville, NC.  Mr. John F. Sanderson (Susan Ellen Sanderson's nephew), John's wife Annie Mae and I visited the Oakleys in January, 1993 and viewed the manuscript.  Margaret was kind enough to photocopy and mail to me the entire notebook containing not only Ellen's story, but several pieces of poetry as well.  (Susan was her given name, but Ellen, her middle name, was used most often.  This habit may have begun early in Ellen's life to distinguish her from her Mother, also christened Susan.)  The Oakley manuscript is written by long hand, in ink, and is seventy pages in length.  Penned below a poem, reproduced on the previous page, is scrawled in Ellen's hand, “For results of this meeting read ‘Sketches of a True Story,’ written by the same little girl 50 years later.”  The meeting in question concerns Ellen's first conversation with Paul Ulrich, when she was twelve years of age and he was twenty-four.  A little quick addition (50 + 12)  leads me to believe Ellen was sixty-two years old when she began this account.  This would have been in 1933 or 1934.  I also believe she added the final chapter later, sometime after Paul Ulrich's death.  This would explain why she ended the last chapter stating that she was, “...in my seventies...”  Ellen's reason is plainly stated, “It was left out because I felt that was a day all our own.”  
	The second copy of “Sketches...” came from Joanne Sanderson Lasseter of Wallace, NC.  It was Joanne who first told me about the story, and about Margaret Oakley.  She was also most generous, allowing me to take two full boxes of Sanderson family reunion information with me to study at my leisure.  The copy I obtained from Joanne is typed and states that is was written in 1957.  It ends with Ellen's statement, “I am now in my 86th year.”
	The copy I received from Joanne differs only slightly from Margaret's.  I believe Ellen simply rewrote her story, changing a few words in the process.  The differences are very minor and in no way contradict.  The typed account was, however, laboriously transcribed using an old manual machine and single spaced.  This made reading difficult in places.
	The only editing I dared was to allow the word-processing program I am using to perform a ‘spell-check’ and to correct the conjugation of a few verbs.  I did add footnotes concerning various family members, as well as several dates to serve as a reminder that this story spans well over half a century.  Brackets {1993} have been placed around any date I have added.  Any dates not bracketed were in the original story text.
 	Ellen's story is interesting, well written, and factual.  It's primarily a love story, but is also an excellent source of information on how one Sanderson family lived, in good times and in bad, during the latter years of the 1800s.  Susan Ellen Sanderson Taylor Ulrich bequeathed us a rare and precious gift;  an intimate look at our family - over 100 years ago.

						Dennis L. Sanderson
						Centreville, VA 
						February 5, 1993

(Revised March 20, 1993)

CHAPTER ONE

	Soon after I was twelve years old I began jotting down the happenings of my life, which I kept up as time went by.  My parents, one brother and I lived on our small farm in eastern North Carolina.  My Father also owned a grist mill which was run with water from a beautiful lake just in front and down a hill from our house.  Between the lake and the lawn fence which surrounded the house and the flower garden was a grove of pines and holly which was green all winter, and the holly was full of red berries.
	Mother was very fond of flowers and her garden was proof at all times of her ability to give it the necessary attention.  This was our home and we loved it regardless of the disadvantages we had so far from town.  My five sisters3 were married and my older brother4 was away.  Sometimes Brother5 and I attended a little country Church a few miles away.  On this particular Sunday morning in June, 1884, Brother and I dressed for church.  I well remember the dress I wore.  It was a soft white mull with a small figure of delicate blue.  My hat was white with a band and streamers of delicate blue ribbon.  A very simple outfit, but very becoming to my girlish figure.  
	As we rode along admiring the beauty of summer and listening to the birds singing happily by the wayside, little did I know that day was a distinct turning point in my life.  I was not aware of a very distinguished young man of twenty-four having an eye on me all through the services.  He had asked his friend who was with him who I was and said, “Brant, there is the only girl I ever saw I cared a stran for.”  
	Brant said, “Oh, I happen to know her and will see that you meet her.”
	One day the following week Brant came by and told me about him and what he said.  I thought he was only teasing and thought no more about it.  The next Sunday morning they came by and Brant introduced him to the family.  He was not a man most people would call handsome, but his gentility and personality were far superior to a handsome face.  I thought he was different from anyone I had ever seen.  His parents were of a royal family in Germany and the strain followed him through life.  His father, Ferdinand Ulrich, was born in Messeberg, Prussia.  His mother was born in Berlin.  Her name was Maria Von Rothenberg.  This man was a nice size, had dark hair and blue eyes and was well dressed.
	Brant had said to him, “Paul, don't you see Ellen is only a child, not yet thirteen.”
	“Yes,” he said, “But don't we all grow up?”
	Mother invited them to have lunch with us.  They accepted the invitation and spent the afternoon.  In the late afternoon we took a walk down to the lake.  Brant and Brother strolled along together.  Paul walked with me.  We took a seat by the water and watched the fish swimming leisurely along.  I had the most peculiar feeling.  I supposed it was due to having this young man's company.  I was not old enough to have boy friends, and he was more than just a boy.  And why would he spend his time with me?
	It seemed as if it was just a coincidence.  Whatever it was, I liked it.  He must have been experiencing the same feeling, for he laid his hand on mine and said, “You are a dear little girl.  I have a feeling for you I have never had for anyone else and have had since I saw you at church last Sunday.  I realize you are just a little girl and perhaps I should not tell you yet that I love you.  Naturally, this is a shock to you and you must have time to think it over.  I will only ask you this;   if I write you in a few days, will you write me just how you feel about me?  Tell me if I can see you often.  If you say I can, I will explain it all to your Mother and ask for her consent.  Will you do that?”
	He saw my flushed face and I felt that he could hear my heart pounding.  I managed to say, “Yes, I will write you.”  I could have told him then for I knew I loved him.  Words could not express my feelings.  We walked back to the gate, he hesitated a moment, then he said, “Good-bye dear, I will see you again soon.”
	My mind was in such a whirl I didn't sleep much that night.  I felt as though everyone could see it in my face.  It was a day or two later when a letter was handed to me in the presence of my parents.  The handwriting was new to me, but I well knew whose it was.  I was so anxious to know what he had written.  This is his letter:

Bradhams,
June 18, 1884

Dear Ellen,

	I am writing you as I said I would, and to remind you that I haven't forgotten you.  In fact, I have hardly thought of anything else since I first saw you.  You may think I am talking to fast but Ellen, words can't express my feelings.  I really feel lonely and odd from what I did before seeing you.  I can say with an honest heart that you have won my deepest affections.  I think if I could see you often I would be the happiest man on earth.  Please write me just how you feel about me and if I can see you Sunday afternoon.

				Your affectionate friend,
				Paul T. Ulrich

	I knew Mother had to know so I told her the letter was from Paul and he wished to come over again Sunday afternoon.  Then I added, “If you are willing.”  I could not tell her anymore.  I wanted him to come as he said he would.  I wrote him I would expect him Sunday afternoon.  I gave him to understand I was looking forward to seeing him.  I thought Sunday would never come, but finally it did.  I was in the flower garden on my favorite seat trying to read a book.  I could not keep my mind on what I was reading, expecting him to arrive at any minute.  When he came I met him with a happy face and a very assuring smile, which he readily understood.  He took a seat beside me and said, “Has my little girl been thinking about me since I saw her?  If she has, I hope the thoughts were as sweet as her face is this afternoon.”
	I said, “Surely, I have thought of you and I am glad to see you.”
	He said, “Then you do care enough to want to see me often.”
	Before he left he asked Mother to sit with us.  He explained it all to her.  He told her he had loved me at first sight.  That he realized I was only a child but  wanted to win my love for himself and would wait for me until I was old enough to marry him.  She seemed to understand and told him he had her consent with the promise he would take good care of me.  After that, we saw each other often and I don't think there was ever a couple who loved each other more than we did.

CHAPTER TWO

	The summer was almost gone.  There were a few roses and late fall flowers left.  We regretted giving up our happy summer for the cold winter months to come.  Paul had taken me to picnics and other places of amusements to which I had never been before.  It was then I began to notice that older girls were envious of me.  Some of them were bold about it and would call him away from me for trifle reasons.  One girl was more determined than the others, but her efforts were of no avail.  Her mother must have encouraged it as she said it was ridiculous for a girl my age to take advantage of the older girls and my mother should not allow it.  I often wondered if Paul noticed.  Surely he did, but it was never mentioned between us.  I could have been jealous if he had given me the slightest cause, but he did not.  Nevertheless, at times I could have given the two most determined ones what I thought they deserved.  If I had, it would not have been pleasant to take.  Instead, I would brace myself up and show them I was really outwitting them.  Time went on as usual.  The winter approached and the evening dances began.  We attended most of them as we both liked to dance.  We never stayed late as I was in school and needed rest and sleep.
	Just before Christmas season {1884} came, Anna Parker6 came to spend a while with us.  She was my niece and a few months my senior.  She was a very pretty girl and one of the best I ever saw.  We loved each other dearly.  As soon as Brant met her, he began making love to her.  She told him she could never love him but hoped they could be friends.  Brant was the kind who loved all the girls.  No one knew when he was serious.  In the meantime he had been taking another girl out.  She was sister to one of the girls who had tried so hard to take Paul from me.  Her Mother was so intent on helping the sister she had paid little attention to them until one night they attempted to elope.  She caught them in time to prevent their getting away.  The next day Paul was passing their house.  She called him in to tell him about it.  She said she took Lyde upstairs to her room and locked her in and she would stay there until it all blew over.  She expected sympathy from Paul but he was not in a sympathetic mood.  He gave her a surprise when he said, “This may not blow over as easily as you think.  It seems to me you might as well let them go.  If she loves him enough to run off to marry him that same love will be there when she is released.”
	“No, never,” she said.  “It was such a shock to me.”
	Then Paul said, “Why can you see so far from home and can't see at home?”  She well knew what he alluded to.  
	He came over to see me and told me what had happened.  He also told Anna to leave Brant off entirely.  She was too good a girl to keep company with a man like him.  I think she was glad of an excuse to get rid of him.  He was not a bad man, but just didn't know who he loved most and wanted all the girls to love him and had made such a failure.
	After I left the neighborhood I never saw him again, but was told he married a nice girl and was very happy.

CHAPTER THREE

	The winter was about gone.  We were looking forward to the lovely spring days, the spring flowers and sunshine.  The time was drawing near for Anna to go home.  We had a wonderful time together and it was hard to part.  I lived such a different life from the other girls my age.  It seemed in one sense I had suddenly  grown up, yet was still a child.  My association with Paul and his friends had made such a difference in me.  He was more attentive after Anna left.  He knew I was lonely for her.  
	The early spring came and the flower garden was a spot of beauty.  We went boat riding on the lake and enjoyed our outdoor life again.  We were very happy that summer.  In September {1885} I passed my fourteenth birthday.  
	One evening during the first week in February {1886} Paul came in unexpectedly.  It was a warm evening.  We were sitting on the porch.  The moon was shining beautifully.  We were watching it.  It was a perfect night for romance.  He was silent for a few minutes.  Then he took both my hands in his and said, “Dear, I have so much to say to you.  I know now that you love me.  You have known all the time my intention was to marry you.  I know you are still young, but I must know this:  Will you be my wife?”
	I looked up into his face and said, “Yes, I do love you and will try to make you a good wife.”
	He took me in his arms and pressed me close to his heart and kissed me for the first time and said, “Dear, this is the time I have looked forward to so long.  Your promise has given me the right to hold you in my arms and kiss you.  You are my first and only love.  If anything happens to prevent our marriage I will never marry anyone.  Dear, I am so happy.  You are so dear to me.  Now that we are engaged, I have something else to say.  I want to see more of this country before settling down.  I want to go to Florida on a prospecting trip.  I want to make a home for us.  Bob wants me to have a home near his, but Dear, I would rather not till I see other places I might like better.  I want us to be married right away.  I know you are not yet fifteen but let's not let that be any reason for keeping us apart.  If we can get your Mother's consent that is all we need.  I don't know how long I will be away.  It may be a few months or it may be a year.  We can choose a place we like and decide together.”
	I could not say anything for a while.  I knew Mother would not want us to be married yet and we would have to have her consent.  I could not bear the thought that he was leaving me.  I finally said, “This is such a shock just as I was so happy.  It never occurred to me that you would leave me so soon.  I know Mother will not agree for us to be married now and leave now.  I wish you had waited to tell me this.  I was so happy and the thought of your leaving me throws a damper on everything.”
	“Dear,” he said, “don't despair.  Your Mother has been very understanding.  We will talk it over with her and possibly she will give her consent.  She knows that I will take good care of you.”
	I said, “No, let me talk to her first and tell you when you come again.  Then you can talk to her if you like.”
	Mother and I discussed the matter thoroughly and decided it best for him to go alone as I was still in school.  In the meantime I could learn more of the household duties.  When he came back he was anxious to know my decision.  When I told him he looked sad and disappointed.  Finally he said, “It must be as you say and perhaps it is best, but I had hoped so much we could be married right away.  It will be so hard to leave you.  I think I will start about April.  That is about two months from now and maybe my little girl will have a change of mind before then and go with me.”
	I said, “No, my mind is made up.  A place that suits you will suit me, and always remember I am waiting for you.”
	He put his arms around me and said, “Dear, since I have had the right to hold you in my arms and kiss you I love you more than ever.  I can't let you go.  Bob still insists I remain in business with him.  I have made my plans to go.  I want us to have a home in Florida and this may be the best time to find just what we want.”  For the next two months we were together more than usual.  The days passed all too quickly.
	It was on April 3, 1886, he was leaving.  He had spent the previous night in our home and was leaving early that morning.  The little flower garden was full of early spring flowers and a few roses.  The morning dew was still on the garden.  The birds were singing happily.  It was a day never to be forgotten.  After saying good-bye to Father, Mother, and Brother he took my arm and said, “Under the circumstances, you will spare us our parting alone.”  We walked out through the flower garden and on down to the lake to our accustomed seat.  We tried to talk but found it difficult.  He took me in his arms and said, “Dear, this is a thousand times harder than I had thought.”  He took a little knife from his pocket.  He cut some notches from a little tree by our seat and said, “Sometimes, when you are lonely, come sit here and think of me, look at this, and remember our parting here.”
	I had a little rose I had picked as we walked through the garden.  I pinned it on his coat and said, “Keep this for me.  I want to see it when you come back.”  He measured my finger for our engagement ring.  We rose with beating hearts, a long close embrace, a parting kiss, and he was gone.  I was sorry then I was not going with him.  I returned home with blinding tears to begin a different life.  I had lived two years of happiness, and a kind few children experience.  Now I wondered what the next two would bring.
	There was nothing to look forward to but his letters, which came often and full of love.  Soon the little box with our engagement ring came and this is what he had written:

Darling, I am sending you our engagement ring.  I want you to put it on your finger with this resolution;  Nothing but death shall break our promise.  How I wish I could put it on your finger and say these words to you.

	When I wrote him I told him I was wearing his ring on my finger and the resolution in my heart.  He had said he liked Florida very much but wanted to see more of it before deciding on anything.

CHAPTER FOUR

	Before the summer was gone Anna came back to make me a short visit.  It was a happy meeting for us.  I noticed she seemed unusually happy.  She told me she was to be married in October and wanted me to be her bridesmaid.  She had known Julian only a few months.  This had also been love at first sight.  He was a true Christian and a member of her Church.  I saw them married in October as they had planned.  They were a very happy couple and many bright-faced, happy children made life jolly for them.  In the meantime my elder brother had married.  {November 23, 1886}  He and Viola7 had invited me to visit them, which I did the next summer.  {1887}  They were living near a big estate owned by Bobs' wife's father.  I had met Bob's wife soon after they married and she had visited me.  She was a beautiful girl and at that time had the honor of being the belle of the County in which she lived.  I had not met her folks before my visit to William's.8  They were a fine family.
	Fred Finley was a friend of theirs and also a friend of William and Viola.  He seemed to think it his duty to take me around and there was nothing I could do but go.  William said I should and assured me it was all right.  For some unknown reason I didn't like him, although he was a very nice man in his way.  There are people we just can't like regardless of what they are.  He wanted to show me a beautiful drive through the estate.  There were miles of hard road completely shaded with cedar trees on each side.  It was indeed a lovely drive.  I enjoyed it very much but it was not because of Fred, as he was a difficult person to know, and I had no desire to know him better.  He insisted on taking me home when the time came to go.  I didn't want him to at all, but William insisted I should.
	On the way he began telling me how much he had enjoyed my visit and would look forward to another real soon.  I began to get fidgety.  I knew what he was leading up to and I didn't want to hear it.  Finally he said, “I am aware of the fact that you are engaged to Mr. Ulrich, but I want to ask you this;  If at anytime your engagement should be broken, will you accept my company?”
	I said, “Just what do you mean by signifying it may be broken?”
	“Oh,” he said, “we never know what time will bring.  Besides, I have reasons for thinking so.  There are people you least suspect who would like to see your engagement broken.  I could tell you more but will not.  You may sometime remember what I have said.”
	I said, “No, please don't tell me anymore.  I would rather not know.  And, besides, getting back to your question, no.  I would never promise that to anyone.  Paul has never given me cause to doubt his loyalty to me and until he dies I will hold my faith in him so you might just as well forget it.”  By this time we were near the gate at home.  I was so exasperated, I didn't even ask him in.  
	Later, after I had time to think about it, I felt like he must know something and if I had acted differently I might have learned more about it.  It was too late now and only time could tell.  Paul's letters were about the same.  I studied them thoroughly.  At times I could imagine something was worrying him;  little things that I had not noticed before that might have a different meaning.  I tried hard to figure it out, but it was a difficult task.  Then I would think how foolish it was of me to let it worry me.  Nevertheless it did.  Here is the first letter I received after returning home:
My Dear Ellen,
	
	I am writing you so it will be there when you get home.  I am sure you had a nice visit with your folks.  I want you to have a good time and not worry about me.  Perhaps you think I am having a good time, but Dear, I am working too hard to get much out of life now.  This is a new country and I run into many difficulties.  We will have to work hard and a long time to get the things going.  I am not as well pleased with Marco as I was at first and may look for another place I like better.  It will be a long time before it will be a fit place for the home we want.  I want you to keep faith in me Dear, and let's look for the best.  Please write me soon and tell me all about yourself and never forget I love you dearly.

					Always,
					Your Paul

	Winter came again and the young folks were busy with their rounds of parties.  I was always glad I was invited and it seemed I had more attention than ever before.  Their seemingly friendly interest they had for me helped ward off my loneliness.  It never occurred to me that there might be any other reason.  Some of them were always asking me about Paul.  I never told them anything.  Only that he is OK or something like that.  They had no foundation to build on but to some a foundation is not necessary.
	One day Father came into lunch.  He looked worried when he took his seat at the table.  He said, “Well, I have a bit of news and I might as well tell you now.  Joseph came by and told me they had news that Paul was drowned.  He was on a boat with some other men.  It happened somewhere between Marco and Tampa.  A storm came up and the boat was blown to pieces and they were all lost.”
	Mother asked immediately how the news came.  He said, “Joe didn't say and I didn't ask him.”
	I left the table without eating my lunch and didn't go back.  I went to my room to cry it out.  When they were through, Mother came to my room and found me in tears.  She sat down beside me and said, “Don't let this hurt you until we know more about it.  I feel sure there is no truth in it.  If there is, some of his friends will notify you, so don't worry until we know more about it.”
	I had always gone to Mother with all my worries.  She had mothered eight of us and it was perfectly natural for her to find comforting words.  When my next letter came I was quick to notice the address.  It was his own handwriting and relieved me of the load I had been carrying.  No one could know the sudden change of my feelings.  This is the letter:

Key West,
April 26th, 1891

My Dear Ellen,

	I know you think I have forgotten you and you have a right to think so.  I didn't intend waiting so long to write.  I will give you my reason and maybe you will forgive me.  I have been traveling around for a while looking for a place.  I found a man who wants my place on Marco.  I have been waiting for him to decide so I could have something definite to tell you.  After all he could not meet my offer.  I am not satisfied with Marco.  It may be a fine place in time but now it is not a suitable place for us.  I love you too much to expect you to live in what is now a wild country.  I have been planning more for you than for myself even if you are willing to share a life with me at any place.  I want you to be comfortable and happy.  
	Dear, you may think I am enjoying life here as at home, but I am not.  I am doing all I can to bring us together.  I hope you still have faith in me.  You are the only girl I ever loved and will be the only one I will ever marry.  Now I hope you understand me thoroughly.  Now, I have something to tell you that has grieved me very much.  There is a little bird that tells me many things.  Some I pay no attention to.  He has just told me you are having a wonderful time and that you are about to be married.  Dear, I know I told you to have a good time and not to give up everything because I am away, but I didn't think or mean for you to accept the attention of every man who came along.  Dear, it's hard for me to believe everything I hear.  I don't do that.  I will only say this.  If you have lost your confidence in me and want to marry another, why can't you tell me?  I would never try to hold you to your promise to me against your will.  I love you too much for that.  If at anytime you can't wear my ring with the resolution we made, please send it to me.  Please write me as soon as you get this and tell me everything.  Address your letter to Marco as before.  I will be there only a few days.  I must say I am always,

						Your Paul

	No need to try to explain my feelings.  It's reasonable for the reader to understand.  The letter had thrown a light on many things I had not seen before.  It was all plain now why I had so much uncalled for attention through the passed winter.  So many things had come to light that seemed then only trifles had served their purposes.  It was strange how my eyes were opened to so many things I had not seen before.  I did not answer the letter 'till I had time to collect my thoughts.  This is my letter:

May 4th, 1891

Dear Paul,

	I have given your letter some very deep thought.  Many things have come to light I had not seen before.  First, I want to say it was not a bird that told you all this.  Instead it was a serpent.  What puzzles me is to think you will listen to it and have doubts in me.  
	Have I ever given you cause to doubt my loyalty to you?  And don't you have confidence enough in me to believe I would tell you if I was in love with another man?  It seems to me if you could realize how strong our love was at first sight you could also realize it's not so easy to forget.
	Another thing you should know is that five years make a great change in a girl's life.  I am now eighteen and very sure of myself.  I know that no other man could possibly mean anything to me now.  I can truthfully say I am not the least bit interested in any of them.  I will admit I have had offers of marriage as most every girl has.  Not because I wanted or encouraged it.  I could not love them if I tried.  Neither could I think of our pledge and take it so lightly.
	If you rather believe your so-called friends than me there is nothing I can do about it.  I don't mean your honest-to-goodness friends.  You know who I mean.  They have been nice to me because they love you.  It's very obvious now why I had so much uncalled for attention through the winter season.  I could tell you many things to prove to you I am right, but why hurt you with things some people say.  Just one thing I want to tell you.  A man you well know came all the way here to tell Father you had been drowned.  You and some other men were on a boat somewhere between Marco and Tampa.  A storm came up and the boat was blown to pieces and you were all lost.  You may be able to have some idea of how I felt.  Mother had tried to comfort me with the thought that if there was any truth in it, we would have been notified.  When I received your next letter there was nothing about a boat accident.  I could see no object other than to hurt me.  If you still have doubts and want your ring, there is nothing I can do but send it to you.  I have often heard it said true love never runs smooth.  I will be waiting to hear from you.  I'm always,

						Ellen

This is his next letter:

                                                   Marco, May 12 {1891}

My Dear Ellen,

	I had started writing you when your letter came.  I had come to my senses and realized how foolish I was in writing you so soon.  I should not listen to the things written to me.  I know you are true and honest in your love for me.  I can also see it was for a purpose.  As you say, I could tell you many things that would surprise you but why should we do or say things to hurt each other.  I can hardly think of you as an eighteen year old girl.  I will always think of you as my little girl.  Now let's not let this happen again.  About the boat accident - this is the first I have heard about it.  I have a very good friend here who I have told about you.  I gave him your address and asked him to let you know if anything should happen to me.  It was a made-up job.
	I am still waiting for a man to buy my place.  I will let you know as soon as I find out what he will do.  Now, Dear, please don't let anything worry you again.  And never forget, regardless of anything, I will always love you.  

					As ever yours,
					Paul

CHAPTER FIVE

	The summer had been long and hot.  We were willing to welcome the cool autumn days.  Father was failing fast and Mother's health was very poor.  Brother was now twenty-one and Father had turned over all the managements to him.  We were not as happy there as we once had been.  Brother was getting anxious for a change.  After much discussion they decided to sell the place and try another nearer town where there were more advantages.  It was no trouble to sell.
	It was late in December when everything was settled and we were ready to move.  We found it hard to leave the home we had so long.  After all, it was very dear to us too.
	I had written Paul and found that he did not approve of the move.  He said he wanted so much to find me where he left me.  He said, “I often think of the happy hours we spent there.  I want you to go to our seat by the lake just before you leave.  Sit there once more and think of me and the time we parted there.”
	On the afternoon before we moved the next morning, I went down and sat there a long time.  I lived over again, from the time we had our first talk there until the last one.  We had spent many happy hours there.  There were the places he had cut in the little tree still plain to see.  I wondered if we would ever be together there again.  
	What a wonderful blessing we have so little knowledge of our lives ahead.  Just as we were getting accustomed to our new home and new friends Mother was taken seriously sick {November 20, 1893} and died.  I had most of the responsibility of the house for a long time and carried things on as before.  A few months later Brother married {April 11, 1894} and I turned everything over to his wife.  Mary9 was a very sweet and dependable girl.  We lived there only one more year.  Mary owned some land near her parents and also near the next town south of us and Brother was going to build on it.  There was no vacant house near, so we moved in with Mary's parents and one small brother until their house was ready for them.  I soon found there was no room for Father and I even though it was a big two story house.  How true the old adage, ‘In a small house a big family will do, but there never was a house big enough for two.’
	Father had never been content since Mother had died.  They had lived a very close life and were very fond of each other.  He was left alone in his old age when he needed a companion most.  He spent most of his time with my older sisters and William.  
	I had a good friend living in town near us who was a milliner.  I spent most of my time with her, helping her with the little things I could do.  She had a family of her own and had no spare room.  I was so homeless and lonely I was not content at any place.  I had explained it all to Paul and he had said, “Dear, try to manage the best you can.  I am making every effort possible to come for you soon.  You have no idea what I have gone through.  If you did, you could not think I am disloyal to you, as I know you do at times.  I beg you to please have faith in me and you shall know sometime.  Dear, I must remind you of one time I will never forget.  It was on a Sunday afternoon I went to see you.  When I rode up to the gate you came out to meet me.  You were alone and seemed unusually glad to see me.  I thought you looked sweeter and happier than I had ever seen you.  We spent the afternoon alone, and I have often pictured a life like that.  Just you and me.”

CHAPTER SIX

	I would read those long and loving letters that gave me strength and courage to live through another space of time.  Later I was visiting my sister who lived near my old home.  I walked over there to see it once more.  I got no farther than the gate.  The house needed repairs.  The lawn fence was down in places and what had been the flower garden was a wilderness of weeds.  The pines and holly had been cut down and the place littered with limbs and chips.  The holly at the gate where Paul had hitched Dolly, his horse, was still standing but was broken to pieces from the fallen trees.  I could go no farther and made no effort to see the little spot by the lake nearest my heart.  I was sorry I had gone.  I felt more than ever that I had no home at all.  I lived through another few weeks of drifting.  I was not contented at any place.  When a distant cousin of mine, who lived near Brother, asked me to come and live with her I didn't hesitate a moment in telling her how thankful I was.  
	Her family consisted of herself 10 and husband,11 three sons and a small daughter.  She told me she would give me a room.  I could take my sewing machine and take in sewing and have all I could make.  She wanted to do the housework herself and I helped her only when she needed help, which was very seldom.  I did her sewing as she knew very little about it.  I was to be one of the family.  I was only too glad to make my own living.  I was more contented than I had been since Mother had died.  They were a very congenial family.  Soon I felt that I was one of them.  
	It had been quite a while since I had heard from my sister when I had a letter from her giving me all the news.  Then she said Mary, a girl I had known back home who was married and was living in Florida, was back on a visit.  She had not seen her but was told she said that Paul was married.  That she had just employed a maid who had worked for his family and that he had a little boy and a little baby girl.  This was the hardest blow yet, even if I could not believe it.  I could never believe he could do that to me.  Then I remembered he had sent me a picture of himself and a little boy made together.  He wanted me to see how cute the little boy was.  He was the son of one of his friends who were visiting him.  He had taken him downtown and had their picture made.  I must send it back to him and I did.  I only wondered if it could possibly be his.  Things like that could happen.  I could not drive the thought from my mind for days, but as usual I lived through it.  Then I had a letter that eased my aching heart and filled it with joy.  This is the letter:

My Dear Ellen,

	I can't wait any longer to tell you.  I think I have everything lined up now so we can make our plans.  This is what I want to do if it suits you.  It will take so much money for me to go home as I would want to see all my friends and we will need all we can get to start house-keeping on.  I will send you money to get the things you need and your railroad fare and I will come meet you in Jacksonville and we will come onto Tampa and be married in our own home.  I want you to come in October.  That will give you a month to get ready.  And in the meantime I will get everything ready here.  What a thrill to think that we will be together soon.  Write me as soon as you get this and tell me what you will do.  When I think we will soon be together I can hardly wait.  As ever always,

				Your Paul
	That was another sleepless night.  Not as so many others had been.  I was trying to get in mind what I would need for the trip.  I determined no one should know anything about it.  I well knew if they did, I would be loaded down with advice and I didn't want it.  Advice is so easy to give, as it doesn't cost anything.  I could make all my arrangements and keep everything to myself till the last minute.  
	Just before dawn I fell asleep.  When I awoke the sun was peeping in through the windows.  I was up in a jiffy and dressed for breakfast.  As soon as it was over, I rushed back to my room to think over what I could do first.  I had some money I had made sewing.  I could use this for the little things I could do first.  There was so much to do and so little time to do it in.  A few days later I had another letter saying he might arrange for us to meet in Atlanta and see the fair and be married there, as soon as we met.  I had written him than any arrangements he made would be all right with me.  I worked until my money gave out thinking every day I would get some from him, but it didn't come.  I expected every day to get a letter from him, but not a word.  September went by.  October came in.  I had worked hard and now I was beginning to worry.  I was so glad no one knew.  I could bear anything better without sympathy.  
	I wanted to live it out my own way as I had done before.  Since Mother died, I could not have Father bear my burdens.  He had plenty of his own.  I tried to hide my troubles from him and I don't think he ever knew what I suffered.

CHAPTER SEVEN

	October was almost gone and so much work and worry was getting the best of me.  I had so little sleep my and appetite was gone.  I was losing weight and strength.  Finally a fever set in.  I had to take to my bed and a Doctor was called.  I was under his care for some time.  I still had not heard from Paul.  When I was able to sit up in bed I wrote him of my illness and then I asked him what he had to tell me this time.  I said, “Paul, I am not asking for anything but the truth and regardless of anything, it's your duty to tell me.  This was your own plan.  You could at least have written me.  If you love me as you say you do, you could not treat me as you have.  I am improving now, but very slowly.  You can't possibly know what this means to me.  It will be a long time before I recover, if I ever do.  I have had plenty of time to think this over thoroughly, and Paul, I am going to be frank with you.  I have had enough.  Don't you think so?  If not, how much do you think I can bear?  The way I feel right now, I am finished.  I have had about eleven and a half years of this and that should be sufficient.  I am not asking you to write me.  If you have anything of any importance to say, OK.  If not, that's OK too.  Very  Respectfully, Ellen.” 

	In a few days this letter came:

Miami, Fla.
Nov. 10th {1897}

Dear Ellen,

	I have just received your letter.  I am so sorry you are sick.  I hope so much you are feeling much better by now.  Dear, I am so sorry you feel as you do.  Did you not get my letter I wrote you a long time ago and told you everything and have been waiting all this time to hear from you?  If you did not get my letter it must have been lost.  I asked that my mail be forwarded here.  I was down to Port Tampa trying to close a deal with a man who wanted to buy my place on Marco.  I had a place promised me, right near Tampa Bay, I was taking when I sold my place.  I was so anxious for it and so sure the deal would go through I had all my plans made for us.  I knew you would like it.  It's a lovely place.  Then as usual all my plans fell through when, at the last minute, the man backed out.  
	Dear, I thought you knew all about it and wondered many times why you had not written me.  I know you can't help feeling as you do.  Anyone would feel the same.  How I wish you could know it is not my fault.  I am just as hurt over this as you are.  I have done everything possible to bring us back together.  It seems fate is against us.  
	Dear, please don't feel too badly about me and Dear, do you think you could possibly give me another chance?  I like Miami more than any other place I have been and may stay here.  It is only in the making now, all new, but in time it will be a wonderful place.  I must tell you this.  I came to Miami on the first passenger train to come here.  I had a return ticket but I did not go back.  I still have the return ticket part which I am keeping for a souvenir.  
	Dear, please don't be angry with me.  I have loved you too long to ever think of giving you up now.  I am the same to you I have been all these years.  I see now the mistake we made by not being married before I left home.  If we had there would have been a way for us and we would have been together all this time.  I had the first claim on you and under any conditions you will always be my little girl.  I will stick to my promise to never marry anyone else.  Dear, please think of it carefully and thoroughly, and write me just what you will do.
	As always, remember I love you, as ever,

					your Paul		

	I pondered the letter, weighing every angle of it.  It was the same old story anyway I put it.  I believed what he said.  I could not help feeling sorry for him.  I could never believe he did not love me or that he would deliberately do something to hurt me.  It had all been a mystery case from the beginning, but had been coherent and we could not get away from it no matter what happened.  It was a hard problem to solve.  
	I wanted to do the right thing before writing him.  I was not gaining my strength as I should, but was trying to finish up some work I had started.  I could not keep my mind on my work enough to get it done.  I had not been out at all, not even to walk out on the yard.  I was too despondent to care for anything.
	One day I was sitting at my sewing machine table, my elbows on the table resting my head in my hands, looking out the window at nothing particular.  Cousin Josie came into the room, took a seat and said, “Put up your work and don't try to work when you feel so little like it, and besides, I want us to have a heart to heart talk.  We are alone today and what we say will be strictly between us.”
	I braced myself up to hear what she had to say.  “First,” she said, “the Doctor says that there is something on your mind that is so worrying you, and you will never gain strength until whatever it is, is off.  I want to help you.  Can't you trust me with whatever it is that is worrying you and perhaps, whatever it is, there is something I can do to help.  I have tried to be next to a Mother to you and the children love you as a sister.  I hope it is nothing we have done to hurt you like this.”
	I knew I could trust her so I told her everything.  I told her it was sweet of her to want to help me, but there was nothing she could do for me.  That I had been more satisfied with them than I had been since Mother died.  They had all been so wonderful to me.  I said I was undecided what to do.  “Whatever my decision is, I will always love him.  All I know to do is just live it out and trust to time to heal the wound.”  
	After she thought it over for a few minutes, she said, “You are capable of deciding for yourself and I will not try to influence you.  But there may be something you have not allowed yourself to think about.  Are you fully convinced  there is only one man in the world you could care for?”
	“Yes,” I said, “I've grown up with that very impression.”
	She said, “It may be true in some cases but not in all.  Do you know anyone among your friends and acquaintances who married their first love?  And yet they are happy.  You, no doubt, have never thought of anyone else in that light.”
	“No,” I said, “I never have.  It would be impossible.”
	Then she said, “I am not saying you can and I am not saying this to try to prove it to you.  So please don't get me wrong, but you must get out and get something different on your mind.  Let some friend take you out.  I would suggest Mord Taylor.12  He sees your condition and would like to do something for you.  There is no finer man than he is.  At least it's worth a try.  He is a good entertainer and could give you a change of mind that would surely help.”
	I never knew if she told him.  He began by sitting on the porch with me and then taking me out for walks and then for rides around.  He was always cheerful and had something to tell me to make me laugh.  I soon felt much better.  When I wrote Paul I told him not to expect a definite answer yet.  I was giving myself a test, but didn't say what the test was.  He kept writing me just the same, and more often.  
	We know that love is supernatural.  It is something that just takes possession of us and we don't know how or why.  It has a different effect for each individual and applies itself to each one in it's own way.  How often we hear a remark like this;  “How can he or she,” whichever the case may be, “who has lost a companion, take someone else in their place?”  Why can't they see the departed has finished their mission here.  The other person is filling their own place, in their own way, in our lives.  We can't take up another person's life and live it for them.  We never love two people alike, even though it's as strong and true.  We have a separate love for each individual, even our own children.  We love each one for himself.  We can't see God's way of doing things, therefore we can't understand.
	I found Mord Taylor quite different from what I had thought, although I had never thought much about him.  He was educated and refined.  He was twenty-one years my senior.  Only in years, not in activity.  I found him very interesting.  I soon found he was in love with me and in some very mysterious way I was glad.  When I felt more sure of myself I wrote Paul that it might be best to give him his freedom as it might be such a struggle for him to start all over again.  I would write him later and tell him all and might send his ring back.  He wrote me a heart-broken letter and reminded me again that he would never marry anyone else, and the only thing he knew to do was to join the Pan American War.  
	When April {1898} came, it had been twelve years since Paul had left North Carolina and me.  I was gaining my strength and was better contented than I had been in some time.  Mord had been wonderful to me.  He had seen to it that I had everything he could possibly do for me and to my surprise I found I loved him.  I had known for some time he was in love with me.  When he asked me to marry him I could not resist his open arms and said, “I am not worthy of such love as yours, but I will try to make you a good wife and make life happy for you while we both live.  I think you are aware of my past experience, but I promise it shall never come between us.”  I kept my promise.  
	He pressed me close to his heart and said, “Darling, I will never cause you any unhappiness knowingly.  I have wanted someone to love and someone to love me.  I feel now that I have it.”
	On the first day of May, 1898, we were married.  It was a lovely Sunday morning.  We attended Church right after the ceremony, which was performed by the Rev. Gilbert of the Baptist Church.  We were married in Mord's brother's home where I had been living for about three years, with the family and a few friends present.  
	Three children were born to us.  One son and two daughters.  We lived together as few couples do, peaceful and happy.  Mord was a true, faithful, and loving husband and father.  I loved him as I once thought impossible.  I proved to him through his six months of illness that he was not a burden on me, as at times he thought he was.  I was too glad to care for him and be a comfort to him as no one else could.  He often told me how wonderful it was to have the one he loved so dearly with him in his last days.  When the end came, {September 5, 1915} it was just a heavenly sleep that fell upon him.  That sleep which never awakens to the toils and sorrows of this life.  In grief like this it is hard to see that God knows best.  But He was merciful to us and helped us through our sorrows.  
	Mord was a charter member of the K.P. Order13 and they gave him a nice funeral.  Our Minister, J. L. Everton, conducted the funeral services in our home.  He was laid to rest in the family cemetery on our farm.  The farm and home were left to the children and me.  There were no debts to pay.  The children were the oldest daughter sixteen, the son fifteen, the youngest daughter ten years old.  Father had died a few years before, and Brother's wife had died {May 30, 1900} and left two little children.  We were all lonely, but time is a wonderful healer.  We all worked and kept things going.  

CHAPTER EIGHT

	There had been ten years of my first marriage-life that none of us had heard  a word from Paul.  We didn't even know if he was living.  Then Brother had a card from him saying for him to write him if he received the card.  It had been so long since he heard from us he didn't know if we were at the same address.  Brother answered the card, and after that they wrote each other occasionally.  On Christmas after that he shipped us all a box of fruit and vegetables.  He was still in Miami.
	After a reasonable length of time after Mord died, Paul began writing to me.  On one occasion he asked me if I would wear his ring again.  “Just wear it,”  he said.  He had sent it and I was wearing it with no promises attached.  He had reminded me of many things in our early life and said he had been true to his word.  He had never married and had the same love for me he always had.  He didn't ask me to marry him, but asked me if I would come to Miami in December and attend the big Palm Fete Week celebration.  If I would, he would send me money for railroad fare and other expenses.  I studied the offer very carefully.  I decided it was my own business.  And I could not say no.  I would say nothing to anyone but the children.  I wrote him I would go and the money came right away.  
	It had been a lonely life for the children and me.  My eldest daughter Jannie  had married soon after her father died.  My son Kenneth had escaped the first World War by not being quite old enough and later was working for the Postal Department.  My youngest daughter Noreen was in her last year of high school, although she was only fifteen. 
	The time was drawing near for me to leave for Miami.  I had everything arranged for the two weeks I expected to be away.  On December 2nd, 1920, a cold wind was blowing and a light snow was falling.  I was leaving on the early train, which was on time.  I had a few hours wait in Wilmington and during that time I bought myself a very nice outfit.  About four o'clock I took the Southern train.  I had a change of trains in Florence, S.C. and still another in Jacksonville, Fla.  From Florence on the train was crowded.
	No fast trains and no double tracks at that time made travel slow.  Besides, it was in the midst of the tourist season.  As the train moved on and on, it was more like a dream, and the train was bringing that dream to reality.  It seemed a long and tiresome ride even though I had Pullman services.  It was passed Midnight on the second night when the lights of the city began to show up.  I rushed into the ladies' room and freshened myself up and was ready when the train pulled into the station.  My wire from Jacksonville, Fla. had not been delivered and Paul was not there to meet me.  
	He had written me just what to do in case he was not there.  I looked over the crowd and saw no sign of him.  I walked through to the street and took a taxi, gave a number, and was off.  After only a few blocks the driver stopped, went to the door and gave a rap.  Presently a man marked with years gone by opened the door.  The taxi drove off.  I stepped inside.  The door closed.  Next I was in Paul's arms and he was saying, “My little girl at last.  After thirty-four long and lonely years.  When I told you I would never marry anyone else, it was from my heart and I have been true to my word and to you!”
	He had hot coffee and sandwiches and cookies.  We had lunch together.  We had so much to talk about the light of morning came before we knew it.  He said, “Dear, you must have some rest and sleep.”  He showed me to my room.  I retired for an hour or two but sleep was far away.  I got up, took a bath and dressed.  When I came out he was dressed for the day.  He had not tried to sleep at all.  We had breakfast together in his apartment.  This was Sunday morning.  
	A very close friend of his, who knew our story, came by and took us to Miami Beach and then to her home for dinner.  The next day was the beginning of Palm Fete Week celebration.  He did not open his store for business all that week.  We attended most of the celebration and took in a few good movies, which were silent at this time.  We spent most of our time talking over our past lives.  He told me how he had seen Miami grow out of a wilderness to a population of, at that time, 29,571. {1920}  He came to Miami on the first passenger train and still had the return ticket, as he didn't go back.  He kept that part as a souvenir and I still have it in my scrapbook.  I also have the little rose bud I pinned on his coat the morning he left me in North Carolina to come to Florida.  It's only a powder now, but very precious to me.  He had kept it all these years.  

CHAPTER NINE

	Now I add the chapter that was left out of the original story.  It was left out because I felt that was a day all our own.  I have been asked so many times why Paul waited so long to see me after Mord died.  So now I will explain.
	I had been in Miami four days.  On the morning of the fifth day, as I came across the street from my room, Paul met me with his usual ‘good morning kiss.’  We had breakfast together in his apartment.  When we were through he closed the front door to the street, took my arm, and led me to a seat.  We sat down together, then he said, “Dear, it's time we have a talk.  I know you have wondered why I have not mentioned marriage to you.  Now I will tell you.  No doubt you have thought of me as I was when you saw me last.  A young man full of life and energy and you a little girl I loved more than anything on earth.  And I knew you loved me.  Now, after thirty-four years I am an old man.  Not strong and active as I was.  I wanted you to see me as I am now.”
	Then I said, “You must remember, I have lived the same thirty-four years you have.  I have changed from the little fourteen year old girl you loved so much.  I am now a grandmother.”  
	He put both arms around me and said, “My love for you has never changed, and never will.  You will always be my ‘Little Ellen.’  When I told you I would never marry anyone else it was from my heart, and I have proved it to you.  It was not to attend the celebration that I asked you to come to Miami.  It was an excuse I had waited for a long time.  I wanted to be sure that you love me now as you did when we were young.  And now I believe you do, now that you have seen me, and also Miami.  Now the question.  Will you marry me, and live in Miami where I can make a living for us and the home I have wanted for so long?  But remember Dear, this is final.”
	Then I said, “What about my children?”
	He said, “Possibly they will come here to live.  Jannie is already married and will never be at home with you again.  Kenneth is twenty and has a job with sure pay he can hold as long as he wants and it gives satisfaction.  He will soon want to make a home for himself.  We can take care of Noreen as long as she needs us.  Now Dear, this is a final decision, and it is for you to make.  I want you to be happy regardless of what it means to me.  If you decide to marry me and live in Miami we will try to make the best of what is left for us.  But you must remember, this is final.  If you decide to go back to your home and make it a permanent home, that kills the last hope we will ever have.  And we will never see or hear from each other again.”
	His arms were around me while he talked, as if he could not let me go.  That was the most trying moment of my life.  I hardly knew what I was doing.  Then I stood up and put my arms around him and held him tight and kissed him.  When I could speak I said, “Paul, I have loved you since the first time I saw you and I will love you as long as I live.  How can I say the few words that would kill our last hope, and part us forever.  I can't say them.  Unknown to anyone, there has been a spark of love for you that never died.  Now it has come back to the same love we had when we were young.”
	“Dear, I didn't think you could,”  he said.  He pulled me down on his knees, took his handkerchief and dried the tears from my eyes and face.  And then from his own.  We were both crying.  We held each other close for a few minutes.  Then he looked up in my face with a pleasant smile and said, “Dear, how soon can you be ready?”
	I said, “The question is for you.  I don't have to get ready.”
	He said,  “I have only three things to do.  Get the license, the Minister and the ring.  I can do that this afternoon.  How about eight o'clock tonight?”  And at eight o'clock we were married.  When Paul put the ring on my finger my first thought was, “That's the tie that binds.”
	Dr. W. W. Farris performed the ceremony at his home in Riverside.  He was Miami's first preacher.  He and Paul had been good friends since they were young men.  He preached at the First Presbyterian Church for many years.
	It was about three weeks later I went back to North Carolina to make arrangements to come to Miami to live.  In January, 1921, Noreen and I came to stay.  Paul entered her in Pan American Business College right away.  Later he bought a lot in a new section of town.  I drew up the plans and we had our house built.  Our home at last!  A dear little stucco bungalow.  White with green trimmings.  We loved it and were happy.  We made several trips back to North Carolina.  It had been so long and the old home had so many changes.  It didn't look the same.  The lovely lake had been drained and had grown into a wilderness.  We could not find the little spot we had loved so much.  
	Paul was very fond of my children and grandchildren.  It was always a pleasure to him for them to visit us.  My son Kenneth had married after I came to Miami.  My daughter married a Miami man soon after she finished school.  Paul kept his business going for about twenty years before he lost his health and had to retire.  He was right in and around the house with me for three years.  On April 8th, 1943 he died.  He was confined to his bed only four days.  He was eighty-three years of age.  During his confinement to the house he wanted me to sit by him all the time and never tired of telling me of his lifelong love for me.  His nurse told me his was the most beautiful (this was the way she expressed it), death she had ever seen.  He gave up his live with a smile.    
	We lived together twenty-three years and four months.  He was laid to rest in the beautiful Woodlawn Park Cemetery.  I have a place reserved for me beside him.  The little rose I pinned on his coat the morning we parted in North Carolina, April 3rd, 1886, is now wrapped in cellophane with the date enclosed and, ‘From little Ellen,’ written in the enclosure just as he fixed it.  It was very carefully stored away with his most treasured things.  It is now in my scrapbook.  I am now in my home waiting my call to him.  I am now in my seventies. 

Note.  Ellen suffered a stroke in January, 1964 and died September 12th of that year at the age of 92 years, 11 months, and 21 days.  She is buried beside Paul T. Ulrich in Woodlawn Park Cemetery, Miami, Florida.

Susan Ellen Sanderson Taylor Ulrich

	Susan Ellen Sanderson was born September 19, 1871, on her parents’ farm near Beulaville in eastern North Carolina.  She was the daughter of John and Susan (Johnson) Sanderson.  Ellen had five sisters (Mary, Margaret, Martha, Elizabeth, and Julia), and two brothers (John William and Isaac Monroe.)  Ellen was the youngest of the eight children.  John Sanderson, Ellen's father, farmed and ran a grist mill.  Ellen's early childhood was pleasant and she delighted in the outdoor life of an adolescent 19th Century farm girl in rural Duplin County.  While the small farm her family owned was distant from town young Ellen enjoyed an active social life.  There were picnics during the warm months as well as parties and dances throughout the winter season.
	Ellen and her brother Isaac (three years her senior), were the only children left at home when the family decided to move near Warsaw.  This relocation would prove to be an unpleasant turning point in Ellen's life.  Shortly after this move Susan, Ellen's mother, died.  John Sanderson, Ellen's father, now old and in poor health, became unable to work and he and Ellen moved near Magnolia to live with Isaac and his new wife.  This arrangement did not seem to work well, and Ellen was soon searching for a new home where she would feel more welcome. She finally moved in (sometime in 1895), with a distant cousin, Julia Carr Taylor.  Ellen was made to feel at ease here and was accepted as one of the family.
	Julia, or "Josie" as Ellen called her, was married to James Stokes Taylor.  On Sunday, May 1, 1898, Susan Ellen Sanderson married Mordecai Taylor, the brother of James Stokes Taylor.  Mordecai Taylor was twenty-one years her senior.  The couple had three children:
		1.  Jannie, born February 13, 1899.
		2.  Kenneth, born October 20, 1900.
		3.  Noreen, born August 5, 1905.
	Ellen was reportedly an excellent seamstress and was able to supplement the family income sewing for neighbors.  She also earned extra money making strawberry cups for the J. H. Baker Company.  Her children helped Ellen make the cups when they were old enough.  Using a horse and cart, the material was moved from the factory to the family home, made into quart cups and then taken back to the factory.  They received the sum of sixty cents per thousand for their product.
	Her husband, "Mord" Taylor, died September 5, 1915.  Ellen continued to live at the Taylor home with her children for another five years.  In December of 1920 she Married Paul Theodore Ulrich of Miami, Florida.  Paul Ulrich was an old beau she had known since she was twelve years old.  He was also twelve years older than she.  Paul was one of Miami's old pioneers.  He bought a round-trip ticket to Miami from Eau Gallie, Florida, on the first passenger train going to Miami.  He liked Miami so well he decided to stay and never used the return portion of his ticket.  It is still in the possession of his family.
	Paul and Ellen were married for twenty-three years and four months before Paul died on April 8, 1943.  He had been in poor health for the previous three years, but was bed-ridden for only the last four days of his life.  Paul T. Ulrich was eighty-three years old at the time of his death.
	Ellen lived in the Miami “bungalow” she and Paul had built until it was torn down in order to facilitate the building of an expressway.  Her daughter Noreen and son-in-law Benjamin Horace Whitehead then asked Ellen to live with them, and she accepted.  In January, 1964, Ellen suffered a stroke and was an invalid until her death on September 12, 1964.  She was one week shy of her 93rd birthday.  Services were held 11:00 A.M. at Lithgow Chapel, 54th Street Center, Miami, Florida on Wednesday September 16, 1964.  She was buried beside her second husband, Paul Theodore Ulrich, in Woodlawn Park Cemetery, Miami, Florida.

Mordecai Taylor

	Mordecai Taylor was Susan Ellen Sanderson's first husband.  Friends and family usually called him “Mord.”  He was born August 19, 1850 in Duplin County, North Carolina.  His parents were James Wells Taylor and Mary Elizabeth (Linton) Taylor.  The 1850 Federal Census lists James W. Taylor as 29 years of age and Mary E. as 22 years old in the year of Mordecai's birth.  His brother, James Stokes Taylor is listed as 2 years old in 1850.  The family's real estate was valued at $1,000 in at this time.  The family farm was located about two miles west of present-day Magnolia.  During this period of the 19th century Magnolia was known as Stricklandville.  
	When Mord was 11 years of age his mother died.  He, his sister Hercilla Ann, and brother James Stokes moved in with their grandparents (Jacob Taylor and Sallie Taylor), on their farm a few miles away.  His grandparent’s farm was located on a road then known as the Wilmington and Raleigh Stage Coach Road.  When he was older, Mord worked in the turpentine woods of South Georgia for a few years in a general store owned by his Uncle Joe Linton.  Mordecai reported that the men did their trading on Saturday nights.  He said that they first called for snuff, tobacco, coffee and matches.  They then went on to order staples such as corn meal, side meat, salt, flour and lard.
	Mordecai married Susan Ellen Sanderson May 1, 1898, at the Concord Baptist Church.  Mr. Taylor was well read and kept abreast of all political news.  According to his daughter Jannie, he normally had a book or newspaper whenever he sat down to rest, and often remarked that you could not argue politics if you knew only one side of an issue.  He was a Republican, but not an activist.  He was a member of the Universalist Church and The Knights of Pythias.  His wife described him in her autobiography as “educated and refined.”  She stated that during their courtship “...he was always cheerful, and had something to tell me to make me laugh.”  He is also characterized as “....a true faithful and loving husband and father.”
	Mr. Taylor was the enumerator, or ‘census-taker,’ for Magnolia Township, Duplin County, NC, for the 1900 US census.
	Mordecai and Susan Ellen had three children.  Jannie born February 13, 1899, Kenneth born October 20, 1900, and Noreen born August 5, 1905.
	Mordecai Taylor died September 5, 1915, after a six month illness.  His wife noted the ease of his passing;  “When the end came it was just a Heavenly sleep...”  He was buried in the Linton Cemetery near his home.