John Petticord was a patriot, being one of that noble band who fearlessly stood and successfully resisted the British attack upon Baltimore in 1814. At that time he was a youth of nineteen working at his trade. At noon-time on the eventful September 12th, 1814, the "tocsin" was sounded to call to arms every able-bodied citizen to defend his home and fireside, and, if possible, prevent the destruction of their beautiful city. At the first sound of the cannon, which was the signal agreed upon, John Petticord left his unfinished noonday meal, seized his musket, and was one of the first to join the ranks of his company. The day was desperately hot, and a forced march of two miles to the battlefield brought them, dusty, tired and thirsty, face to face with the enemy, who was in a fresh condition and eager for fight. Petticord's canteen, as all others, by regulation orders, was filled with whiskey, but he, being a temperance man, would not assuage his thirst with grog. Famishing for water, he obtained permission from his superior officer to go a short distance away, where a "squatter" was dispensing cider for the comfort of the soldiers and profit to himself. Petticord, emptying his canteen of whiskey on the ground, had it filled with hard cider, and quenched his thirst with a good round drink. That hard cider, together with heat and exhaustion, came about as near ending the earthly career of John Petticord as did the storm of enemy's bullets which whizzed about his head. On that trying day the bravery of this man was well tested. He stood manfully in position while his comrade on the right fell dead at his feet, and the one on his left was removed wounded from the battlefield, he himself receiving a slight wound on the finger. The riderless white horse of the British General Ross, who had just been killed, pranced by in front of the rank in which Mr. Petticord was stationed, and the hearts of himself and comrades beat lightly with hope of success, as the shouts of the Americans echoed along the line, announced the death of the invaders' great leader, encouraging a grand rally that gave them the victory of the day. Mr. Petticord, though a brave soldier in the time of his country's need, was a man of peace, and, upon the ending of hostilities with Great Britain, resigned his position in the eighth company of the 27th Regiment of Maryland militia. Baltimore always honors her noble band of brave defenders, and upon each anniversary of the 12th of September a public celebration is given, and the Old Defenders occupy the post of honor. It is but a few years since they marched with lively and steady step to martial music; later on, age required their appearing in carriages in the procession, and each year, at the annual dinner given by the city, their number has grown less and less.