at when on
his--Saunderson's--death this cave was visited by some of the villagers,
a quantity of queer bones--some human and some belonging to wolves--were
discovered lying in corners, partially covered with stones and loose
earth.

I have heard similar stories in Wales, and have been conducted to one or
two spots, one near Iremadac and the other on the Epynt Hills, where,
local tradition still has it, werwolves once flourished.

According to legend St. Patrick turned Vereticus, a Welsh king, into a
wolf, whilst the werwolf daughter of a Welsh prince was said to have
destroyed her father's enemies during her nocturnal metamorphoses. In
Ireland, too, are many legends of werwolves; and it is said of at least
some half-dozen of the old families that at some period--as the result
of a curse--each member of the clan was doomed to be a wolf for seven
years.

CHAPTER VII

THE WERWOLF IN FRANCE

In no country has the werwolf flourished as in France, where it is known
as the _loup garou_; where it has existed in all parts, in every age,
and where it is even yet to be found in the more remote districts. Hence
one could fill a dozen volumes with the stories, many of them well
authenticated, of French werwolves. As far back as the sixth century we
hear of them infesting the woods and valleys of Brittany and Burgundy,
the Landes, and the mountainous regions of the Cote d'Or and the
Cevennes.

Occasionally a werwolf would break into a convent and make its meal off
the defenceless nuns; occasionally it would select for its repast some
nice fat abbot waddling unsuspectingly home to his monastery.

Not all these werwolves were evilly disposed people; many, on the
contrary, were exceedingly virtuous, and owed their metamorphosis to
the vengeance of witch or wizard. When this was the case their piety
sometimes prevailed to such an extent that not even metamorphosis into
wolfish form could render it ineffective; and there are instances where
werwolves of this type have not only refrained from taking human life,
but have actually gone out of their way to protect it. Of such
instances, well authenticated, probably none would be more remarkable
than those I am about to narrate.

THE CASE OF THE ABBOT GILBERT, OF THE ARC MONASTERY, ON THE BANKS OF THE
LOIRE

Gilbert had been to a village fair, where the good vintage and hot sun
combined had proved so trying that on his way home, through a dense and
lonely forest, he had