will make its presence felt.

There is little consistency in the various methods of the spirit's
advent: sometimes a deep unnatural silence immediately precedes it;
sometimes crashes and bangs, groanings and shriekings, herald its
approach. When it remains invisible its presence is indicated and
accompanied by a sensation of abnormal cold and the most acute terror.
It is sometimes visible in the guise of a huntsman--which is, perhaps,
its most popular shape--sometimes in the form of a monstrosity, partly
man and partly beast--and sometimes it is seen ill defined and only
partially materialized. To what order of spirits it belongs is, of
course, purely a matter of conjecture. I believe it to be some
malevolent, superphysical, creative power, such as, in my opinion,
participated largely in the creation of this and other planets. I do not
believe it to be the Devil, because I do not believe in the existence of
only one devil, but in countless devils. It is difficult to say to what
extent the Unknown is believed to be powerful by those who approach it
for the purpose of acquiring the gift of lycanthropy; but I am inclined
to think that the majority of these, at all events, do not ascribe to it
any supreme power, but regard it merely as a local spirit--the spirit
of some particular wilderness or forest.

Of course, it is quite possible that the property of werwolfery might be
acquired by other than a direct personal communication with the Unknown,
as, for example, by eating a wolf's brains, by drinking water out of a
wolf's footprints, or by drinking out of a stream from which three or
more wolves have been seen to drink; but as most of the stories I have
heard of werwolfery acquired in this way are of a wild and improbable
nature, I think there is little to be learned from the _modus operandi_
they advocate. The following story, which I believe to be true in the
main, was told me by a Dr. Broniervski, whom I met in Boulogne.

"Ten years ago," my informant began, "I was engaged in a geological
expedition in Montenegro. I left Cetinge in company with my escort,
Dugald Dalghetty, a Dalmatian who had served me on many former
occasions; but owing to an accident I was compelled to leave him behind
at a village about thirty miles east of the capital. As it was
absolutely necessary for me to have a guide, I chose a Montenegrin
called Kniaz. Dalghetty warned me against him. 'Kniaz has the evil eye,'
he said; 'he will bring misfor