There was certainly great diversity in dress among those who called themselves Puritans. Some amusing stories are told of that strange, restless, brilliant creature, the major-general of Cromwell’s army,—Harrison. When the first-accredited ambassador sent by any great nation to the new republic came to London, there was naturally some stir as to the wisdom of certain details of demeanor and dress. It was a ticklish time. The new Commonwealth must command due honor, and the day before the audience a group of Parliament gentlemen, among them Colonel Hutchinson and one who was afterwards the Earl of Warwick, were seated together when Harrison came in and spoke of the coming audience, and admonished them all—and Hutchinson in particular, “who was in a habit pretty rich but grave and none other than he usually wore”—that, now nations sent to them, they must “shine in wisdom and piety, not in gold and silver and worldly bravery which did not become saints.” And he asked them not to appear before the ambassador in “gorgeous habits.” So the colonel—though he was not “convinced of any misbecoming bravery in a suit of sad-coloured cloth trimmed with gold and with silver points and buttons”—still conformed to his comrade’s opinion, and appeared as did all the other gentlemen in solemn, handsome black. When who should come in, “all in red and gold-a,”—in scarlet coat and cloak laden with gold and silver, “the coat so covered with clinquant one could scarcely discern the ground,” and in this gorgeous and glittering habit seat himself alone just under the speaker’s chair and receive the specially low respects and salutes of all in the ambassador’s train,—who should thus blazon and brazon and bourgeon forth but Harrison! I presume, though Hutchinson was a Puritan and a saint, he was a bit chagrined at his black suit of garments, and a bit angered at being thus decoyed; and it touched Madam Hutchinson deeply.