Werewolf Wednesday will be a little short this week, as I have deadlines pending, but nonetheless interesting — to me, at least. Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable has an entry for werewolves mentioning a number of unusual variations on werewolf lore that have either been forgotten (like the ability to transform into a goat) or else mutated (the reference to blessed bullets is likely an ancestor to the more familiar silver bullet of today). The author’s suggestion that the French for werewolf, loup-garou, is etymologically connected to the Old English “orc” is new to me.
Archive.org has a scanned copy of what is purportedly the original 1870 edition of the book — the volume itself is undated, but a thoughtful librarian has written “1870” in pencil near the start — and it appears that the entry was penned for this edition. The entry is as follows:
Werwolf or Were-Wolf (French, loup-garou). A bogie who roams about devouring infants, sometimes under the form of a wolf followed by dogs, sometimes as a white dog, sometimes as a black goat, and occasionally in an invisible form. Its skin is bullet-proof, unless the bullet has been blessed in a chapel dedicated to St. Hubert. This superstition was once common to almost all Europe, and still lingers in Brittany, Limousin, and Auvergne. In the fifteenth century a council of theologians, convoked by the emperor Sigismund, gravely decided that the loup-garou was a reality. It is somewhat curious that we say a “bug-bear,” and the French a “bug-wolf.” (“Wer-Wolf” is Anglo-Saxon wer, a man, and wolf–a man in the semblance of a wolf. “Garou” is either wer-ou or war-ou, as in “warlock;” ou is probably a corruption of orc, an ogre.)
Ovid tells the story of Lycaon, king of Arcadia, turned into a wolf, because he tested the divinity of Jupiter by serving up to him a “hash of human flesh.”
Herodotus describes the Neuri as sorcerers, who had the power of assuming once a year the shape of wolves.
Pliny relates that one of the family of Antaeus was chosen annually, by lot, to be transformed into a wolf, in which shape he continued for nine years.
St. Patrick, we are told, converted Vereticus king of Wales into a wolf.
Hotel Clerk Malcolm Hyde visits the Canadian backwoods on holiday and heads to Medicine Lake in the hopes of catching some fish (“You’ll have it to yourself except for an old Indian who’s got a shack there” says Morton of the Montreal Sporting Club). He arrives there, and finds it as beautiful as he had been led to believe:
First it was 
Doris V. Sutherland 