July 26, 2025 • 15 mins
In this intriguing volume, Elbert Hubbard takes us on an intimate tour through the homes of remarkable women who left their mark on history. Exploring the residences of authors, poets, social reformers, and other esteemed figures, Hubbard delves into how their environments could have shaped their lives and work. This book is a unique blend of biography and insightful commentary on the subjects life and creative output. Featured women include Elizabeth B. Browning, Madame Guyon, Harriet Martineau, Charlotte Bronte, Christina Rossetti, Rosa Bonheur, Madame De Stael, Elizabeth Fry, Mary Lamb, Jane Austen, Empress Josephine and Mary W. Shelley. The volume also features a poignant introduction by Hubbards son, Elbert Hubbard II, penned shortly after his fathers passing. This is Volume 2 in a series of 14 enlightening books.
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Speaker 1 (00:02):
Section seventeen of Little Journeys to the Homes of Famous Women.
This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in
the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please
visit LibriVox dot org. Recording by Mary Anne Bodorf. Little
Journeys to the Homes of Famous Women by Elbert Hubbard
(00:26):
Mary Lamb, Part one. Her education in youth was not
much attended to, and she happily missed all the train
of female gerransher which passeth by the name of accomplishments.
She was tumbled early, by accident or providence, into a
spacious closet of good old English reading, without much selection
(00:49):
or prohibition, and browsed at will upon that fair and
wholesome pasturage. Had I twenty girls, they should be brought
up exactly in this fashion. I know not whether their
chance and wedlock might not be diminished by it, but
I can answer for it that it maketh, if worse
comes to worst most incomparable Old Maids essays of Elia
(01:12):
Mary Lamb, I sing the love of brother and sister.
For he who tells the tale of Charles and Mary
Lamb's life must tell of a love that was an
uplift to this brother and sister in childhood, that sustained
them in the desolation of disaster, and was a saving
silence even when every hope seemed gone and reason veiled
(01:34):
her face. This loved caused the flowers of springtime to
bloom for them again and again, and attracted such a
circle of admirers that, as we read the records of
their lives set forth in the letters they received and wrote,
we forget poverty, forget calamity, and behold only of the radiant,
smiling faces of loving, trusting, trustful friends. The mother of
(02:01):
Charles and Mary Lamb was a woman of fine natural endowment,
of spirit and of aspiration. She married a man much
older than herself. We know but little about John Lamb.
We know nothing of his ancestry, neither do we care to.
He was not good enough to attract, nor bad enough
to be interesting. He called himself a scrivener, but in
(02:25):
fact he was a valet. He was neutral salts And
I say this just after having read his son's amiable
mention of him under the guise of lovell and with
the full knowledge also that he danced well, was a
good judge of vintage, played the harpsichord and recited poetry.
On occasion when a woman of spirit stands up before
(02:47):
a priest and makes solemn promise to live with a
man who lath the harpsichord and is a good judge
of vintage, and to love until whether he or she dies,
she sows the seeds of death and disory. Of course,
I know that men and women who make promises before
priests know not at the time what they do. They
find out afterwards. And so they were married where John
(03:10):
Lamb and Elizabeth Field, and probably very soon thereafter Elizabeth
had a premonition that this union only held in store
a glittering blade of steel for her heart, for she
grew ill and dispirited, and John found companionship at the
Ale House and came stumbling home, asking what the devil
was the reason his wife couldn't meet him with a
(03:32):
smile and a kiss, and a that, as a dutiful
wife should Elizabeth began to live more and more within herself.
We often hear foolish men taunt women with inability to
keep secrets, But women who talk much often do keep secrets.
There are knooks in their hearts, where the sun never enters,
and where those nearest them are never allowed to look.
(03:55):
More lives are blasted by secrecy than by frankness ay
a thousand times. Why should such a thing as a
secret ever exist? Tis preposterous, and its proof positive of depravity.
If you and I are to live together, my life
must be open as the ether, and all my thoughts
be yours. If I keep back this, and that you
(04:17):
will find it out some day, and suspect with reason
that I also keep back the other Anonaea Sensifira met death,
not so much for simple untruthfulness as for keeping something back.
Elizabeth Lamb sought to protect herself against an unappreciative mate
by secrecy. Perhaps she had to, and the habit grew
(04:37):
until she kept secrets as a business. She kept foolish
little secrets. Did she get a letter from her aunt,
She read it in suggestive silence, and then put it
in her pocket. If visitors called, she never mentioned it.
And when the children heard of it weeks afterward, they marveled,
and so shy little Mary Lamb wondered what it was
(04:58):
her mother kept locked up the bottom drawer of the bureau,
and Mary was told that children should not ask questions,
little girls should be seen and not heard. At night,
Mary would dream of the things that were in that drawer,
and sometimes great, big black things would creep out through
the keyhole and grow bigger and bigger until they filled
(05:19):
the room so full that you couldn't breathe. And then
little Mary would cry, alout and scream, and her father
would come with a strap that was kept on a
nail behind the kitchen door and teach her better than
to wake everybody up in the middle of the night.
Yet Mary loved her mother and sought in many ways
to meet her wishes. And all the time her mother
(05:39):
kept the bureau drawer locked and away somewhere on a
high shelf was hidden all tenderness, all the gentle, loving words,
and the caresses which children crave. And little Mary's life
seemed full of troubles, and the world a grievous place
where everybody misunderstands every one else, and at night times
she would often hide her face in the pillow and
(06:01):
cried herself to sleep. But when she was ten years
of age, a great joy came into her life. A
baby brother came, and all the love in the little
girl's heart was poured out for the puny baby boy.
Babies are troublesome things anyway, where folks are awful poor,
and where there are no servants, and the mother is
not so very strong. And so Mary became the baby's
(06:24):
own little foster mother. And she carried him about, and
long before he could lisp a word, she had told
him all the hopes and secrets of her heart. And
he cooed and laughed, and, lying on the floor, kicked
his heels in the air, and treated hope and love
and ambition alike. I could not find that Mary ever
(06:44):
went to school. She stayed at home and sewed, did housework,
and took care of the baby. All her learning came
by absorption. When the boy was three years old, she
taught him his letters, and did it so deftly and
well that he used to declare he could always read,
and this is as it should be. When seven years
of age, the boy was sent to the blue Coat school.
(07:06):
This was brought about through the influence of mister Salt,
for whom John Lamb warked. Mister Salt was a bencher,
And be it known, a bencher in England is not
exactly the same thing as the Bencher in America. Mister
Salt took quite a notion to little Mary Lamb, and
once when she came to his office with her father's dinner,
(07:26):
the honorable Bencher chucked her under the chin, said she
was a fine little girl, and asked her if she
liked to read. And when she answered, oh, yes, sir,
and then added, if you please, the bincher laughed and
told her she was welcome to take any book in
his library. And so we find she spent many happy
hours in the great Man's library. And it was through
(07:48):
her importunities that mister Salt got Bante Charles the scholarship
in Christ's Hospital School, now the Blue Coat School for Boys,
was a curiosity to every sight seer in London, and
had been for these hundred years and more. Their long
tailed blue coats, buckle shoes, and absence of either hats
or caps bring the Yankee up with a halt. To
(08:10):
conduct an American around to the vicinity of Christ's Hospital
and let him discover a blue coat for himself is
a sensation. The costume is exactly the same as that
one by Edward, the boy King, who founded the school,
and these youngsters like the birds never grow old. You
lean against the high iron fence, and looking through the bars,
(08:31):
watch the boys frolic and play, just as visitors looked
in the eighteenth century. And I've never been by Christ's
hospital yet when curious people did not stop and stare.
And one thing the blue Coats seemed to prove, and
that is that hats are quite superfluous. One worthy man
from Jamestown, New York, was so impressed by these hatless boys,
(08:54):
that he wrote a book proving that the wearing of
hats was what has kept the race in bondage to
ignorance all down the end ages. By statistics, he proved
that the blue Coats had attained distinction quite out of
ratio to their number, and sighted Coleridge, Lee Hunt, Charles Lamb,
and many others as proof. This man returned to Jamestown hatless,
(09:15):
and had he not caught cold and been carried off
by pneumonia, would have spread his hatless gospel, rendering the
name of Knocks the hatter infamous, and causing the word
Derby to be henceforth a byword and a hissing. When
little Charles Lamb tucked the tails of his long blue
coat under his belt and played leapfrog in the school yard.
Every morning at ten minutes after eleven, His sister Wan
(09:39):
yellow and Dreamy, used to come and watch him through
these self same iron bars. She would wave the corner
of her rusty shawl in loving token, and he would
answer back and would have lifted his hat if he
had had one. When the bell rang and the boys
would pell mell into the entryway, Charles would linger and
hold one hand above his head as the stonewall swallowed him,
(10:01):
and the sister, knowing all was well, would hasten back
to her work in Little Queen Street hard By to
wait for the morrow when she could come again. Who
is that girl I was hanging round after you? Asked
a tall handsome boy called Ajax of Little Charles lamb, Well,
why don't you know that? Well? Why that's my sister Mary.
(10:24):
How should I know when you've never introduced me, loftily,
replied Ajax. And so the next day, at ten minutes
after eleven, Charles and the mighty Ajax came down to
the fence, and Charles had to call to Mary not
to run away, and Charles introduced Ajax to Mary, and
they shook hands through the fence, and the next week Ajax,
(10:45):
who was known in private life as Samuel Taylor. Coleridge
called at the house in Little Queen Street where the
Lambs lived, and they all had gin and water, and
the elder Lamb played the harpsichord, a second hand one
that had been presented by mister Salt, and recited poetry,
and Coleridge talked the elder Lamb under the table and
argued the entire party into silence. Coleridge was only seventeen then,
(11:10):
but a man grown and already took snuff like a courtier,
tapping the lid of the box meditatively and flashing a conundrum.
The while on the admiring company, Mary kept about his
close run of the blue Coat school, as if she
had been a blue Coat herself. Still, she felt at
her duty to keep one lesson in advance of her brother,
just to know that he was progressing well. He continued
(11:33):
to go to school until he was fourteen, when he
was set to work in the south Sea Company's office
because his income was needed to keep the family. Mary
was educating the boy with the help of mister Salt's library.
For a boy as fine as Charles should be educated,
you know. By and by the bubble burst, and young
Lamb was transferred to the East India Company's office and
(11:55):
being promoted. Was making nearly a hundred pounds a year.
And Mary sewed and borrowed books and toiled incessantly, but
was ill At times. People said her head was just
not right, she was overworked and nervous or something. The
father had lost his place on account of too much
gin and water, especially gin. The mother was almost helpless
(12:18):
from paralysis, and in the family was an aged maiden
aunt to be cared for. The only regular income was
the salary of Charles. There they lived in their poverty
and loneliness, hoping for better things. Charles was working away
over the ledgers and used to come home fagged and weary.
And Coleridge was far away, and there was no boy
(12:38):
to educate now, and only sick and foolish and quibbling
people on whom to strike fire. The dimnition grind did
its work for Mary Lamb as surely as it is
to day doing it for countless farmers wives in Iowa
and Illinois. Thus ran the years away. Mary Lamb aged
thirty two, gentle intelligence and wondrous kind. In sudden phrenzy
(13:03):
seized a knife from the table, and with one thrust
sank the blade into her mother's heart. Charles Lamb, in
an adjoining room, hearing the commotion, entered quickly, and, taking
the knife from his sister's hand, put his arm about her,
and tenderly led her away, returning in a few minutes
(13:23):
the mother was dead. Women often make a shrill outcry
at sight of a mouse. Men cursed loudly when large
buzzing blue bottle flies disturbed there after dinner nap. But
let occasion come, and the stuff of which cheers are
made is in us. All I think well of my kind.
Charles Lamb made no outcry, He shed no tears, He
(13:46):
spoke no word of reproach. He met every detail of
that terrible issue, was coolly, calmly and surely, as if
he had been making entries in his journal. No man
ever loved his mother more. But she was dead. Now
she was dead. He closed the staring eyes, composed the
stiffening limbs, kept curious sightseers at bay, and all the
(14:09):
time thought of what he could do to project the
living She who had wrought this ruin Charles was twenty one,
a boy in feeling and temperament, a frolicsome heedless boy.
In an hour he became a man. It requires a
subtler pen than mine to trace the psychology of this tragedy,
(14:30):
but let me say this much. It had its birth
in love, an unrequited love, and the outcome of it
was an increase in love. Oh God, how wonderful are
thy works. Thou makest the rotting log to nourish banks
of violets, and from the stagnant pool at thy words
brings forth the lotus that covers all with fragrance and beauty.
(14:54):
End of Section seventeen, Mary Lamb, Part one
Section seventeen of Little Journeys to the Homes of Famous Women.
This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in
the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please
visit LibriVox dot org. Recording by Mary Anne Bodorf. Little
Journeys to the Homes of Famous Women by Elbert Hubbard
(00:26):
Mary Lamb, Part one. Her education in youth was not
much attended to, and she happily missed all the train
of female gerransher which passeth by the name of accomplishments.
She was tumbled early, by accident or providence, into a
spacious closet of good old English reading, without much selection
(00:49):
or prohibition, and browsed at will upon that fair and
wholesome pasturage. Had I twenty girls, they should be brought
up exactly in this fashion. I know not whether their
chance and wedlock might not be diminished by it, but
I can answer for it that it maketh, if worse
comes to worst most incomparable Old Maids essays of Elia
(01:12):
Mary Lamb, I sing the love of brother and sister.
For he who tells the tale of Charles and Mary
Lamb's life must tell of a love that was an
uplift to this brother and sister in childhood, that sustained
them in the desolation of disaster, and was a saving
silence even when every hope seemed gone and reason veiled
(01:34):
her face. This loved caused the flowers of springtime to
bloom for them again and again, and attracted such a
circle of admirers that, as we read the records of
their lives set forth in the letters they received and wrote,
we forget poverty, forget calamity, and behold only of the radiant,
smiling faces of loving, trusting, trustful friends. The mother of
(02:01):
Charles and Mary Lamb was a woman of fine natural endowment,
of spirit and of aspiration. She married a man much
older than herself. We know but little about John Lamb.
We know nothing of his ancestry, neither do we care to.
He was not good enough to attract, nor bad enough
to be interesting. He called himself a scrivener, but in
(02:25):
fact he was a valet. He was neutral salts And
I say this just after having read his son's amiable
mention of him under the guise of lovell and with
the full knowledge also that he danced well, was a
good judge of vintage, played the harpsichord and recited poetry.
On occasion when a woman of spirit stands up before
(02:47):
a priest and makes solemn promise to live with a
man who lath the harpsichord and is a good judge
of vintage, and to love until whether he or she dies,
she sows the seeds of death and disory. Of course,
I know that men and women who make promises before
priests know not at the time what they do. They
find out afterwards. And so they were married where John
(03:10):
Lamb and Elizabeth Field, and probably very soon thereafter Elizabeth
had a premonition that this union only held in store
a glittering blade of steel for her heart, for she
grew ill and dispirited, and John found companionship at the
Ale House and came stumbling home, asking what the devil
was the reason his wife couldn't meet him with a
(03:32):
smile and a kiss, and a that, as a dutiful
wife should Elizabeth began to live more and more within herself.
We often hear foolish men taunt women with inability to
keep secrets, But women who talk much often do keep secrets.
There are knooks in their hearts, where the sun never enters,
and where those nearest them are never allowed to look.
(03:55):
More lives are blasted by secrecy than by frankness ay
a thousand times. Why should such a thing as a
secret ever exist? Tis preposterous, and its proof positive of depravity.
If you and I are to live together, my life
must be open as the ether, and all my thoughts
be yours. If I keep back this, and that you
(04:17):
will find it out some day, and suspect with reason
that I also keep back the other Anonaea Sensifira met death,
not so much for simple untruthfulness as for keeping something back.
Elizabeth Lamb sought to protect herself against an unappreciative mate
by secrecy. Perhaps she had to, and the habit grew
(04:37):
until she kept secrets as a business. She kept foolish
little secrets. Did she get a letter from her aunt,
She read it in suggestive silence, and then put it
in her pocket. If visitors called, she never mentioned it.
And when the children heard of it weeks afterward, they marveled,
and so shy little Mary Lamb wondered what it was
(04:58):
her mother kept locked up the bottom drawer of the bureau,
and Mary was told that children should not ask questions,
little girls should be seen and not heard. At night,
Mary would dream of the things that were in that drawer,
and sometimes great, big black things would creep out through
the keyhole and grow bigger and bigger until they filled
(05:19):
the room so full that you couldn't breathe. And then
little Mary would cry, alout and scream, and her father
would come with a strap that was kept on a
nail behind the kitchen door and teach her better than
to wake everybody up in the middle of the night.
Yet Mary loved her mother and sought in many ways
to meet her wishes. And all the time her mother
(05:39):
kept the bureau drawer locked and away somewhere on a
high shelf was hidden all tenderness, all the gentle, loving words,
and the caresses which children crave. And little Mary's life
seemed full of troubles, and the world a grievous place
where everybody misunderstands every one else, and at night times
she would often hide her face in the pillow and
(06:01):
cried herself to sleep. But when she was ten years
of age, a great joy came into her life. A
baby brother came, and all the love in the little
girl's heart was poured out for the puny baby boy.
Babies are troublesome things anyway, where folks are awful poor,
and where there are no servants, and the mother is
not so very strong. And so Mary became the baby's
(06:24):
own little foster mother. And she carried him about, and
long before he could lisp a word, she had told
him all the hopes and secrets of her heart. And
he cooed and laughed, and, lying on the floor, kicked
his heels in the air, and treated hope and love
and ambition alike. I could not find that Mary ever
(06:44):
went to school. She stayed at home and sewed, did housework,
and took care of the baby. All her learning came
by absorption. When the boy was three years old, she
taught him his letters, and did it so deftly and
well that he used to declare he could always read,
and this is as it should be. When seven years
of age, the boy was sent to the blue Coat school.
(07:06):
This was brought about through the influence of mister Salt,
for whom John Lamb warked. Mister Salt was a bencher,
And be it known, a bencher in England is not
exactly the same thing as the Bencher in America. Mister
Salt took quite a notion to little Mary Lamb, and
once when she came to his office with her father's dinner,
(07:26):
the honorable Bencher chucked her under the chin, said she
was a fine little girl, and asked her if she
liked to read. And when she answered, oh, yes, sir,
and then added, if you please, the bincher laughed and
told her she was welcome to take any book in
his library. And so we find she spent many happy
hours in the great Man's library. And it was through
(07:48):
her importunities that mister Salt got Bante Charles the scholarship
in Christ's Hospital School, now the Blue Coat School for Boys,
was a curiosity to every sight seer in London, and
had been for these hundred years and more. Their long
tailed blue coats, buckle shoes, and absence of either hats
or caps bring the Yankee up with a halt. To
(08:10):
conduct an American around to the vicinity of Christ's Hospital
and let him discover a blue coat for himself is
a sensation. The costume is exactly the same as that
one by Edward, the boy King, who founded the school,
and these youngsters like the birds never grow old. You
lean against the high iron fence, and looking through the bars,
(08:31):
watch the boys frolic and play, just as visitors looked
in the eighteenth century. And I've never been by Christ's
hospital yet when curious people did not stop and stare.
And one thing the blue Coats seemed to prove, and
that is that hats are quite superfluous. One worthy man
from Jamestown, New York, was so impressed by these hatless boys,
(08:54):
that he wrote a book proving that the wearing of
hats was what has kept the race in bondage to
ignorance all down the end ages. By statistics, he proved
that the blue Coats had attained distinction quite out of
ratio to their number, and sighted Coleridge, Lee Hunt, Charles Lamb,
and many others as proof. This man returned to Jamestown hatless,
(09:15):
and had he not caught cold and been carried off
by pneumonia, would have spread his hatless gospel, rendering the
name of Knocks the hatter infamous, and causing the word
Derby to be henceforth a byword and a hissing. When
little Charles Lamb tucked the tails of his long blue
coat under his belt and played leapfrog in the school yard.
Every morning at ten minutes after eleven, His sister Wan
(09:39):
yellow and Dreamy, used to come and watch him through
these self same iron bars. She would wave the corner
of her rusty shawl in loving token, and he would
answer back and would have lifted his hat if he
had had one. When the bell rang and the boys
would pell mell into the entryway, Charles would linger and
hold one hand above his head as the stonewall swallowed him,
(10:01):
and the sister, knowing all was well, would hasten back
to her work in Little Queen Street hard By to
wait for the morrow when she could come again. Who
is that girl I was hanging round after you? Asked
a tall handsome boy called Ajax of Little Charles lamb, Well,
why don't you know that? Well? Why that's my sister Mary.
(10:24):
How should I know when you've never introduced me, loftily,
replied Ajax. And so the next day, at ten minutes
after eleven, Charles and the mighty Ajax came down to
the fence, and Charles had to call to Mary not
to run away, and Charles introduced Ajax to Mary, and
they shook hands through the fence, and the next week Ajax,
(10:45):
who was known in private life as Samuel Taylor. Coleridge
called at the house in Little Queen Street where the
Lambs lived, and they all had gin and water, and
the elder Lamb played the harpsichord, a second hand one
that had been presented by mister Salt, and recited poetry,
and Coleridge talked the elder Lamb under the table and
argued the entire party into silence. Coleridge was only seventeen then,
(11:10):
but a man grown and already took snuff like a courtier,
tapping the lid of the box meditatively and flashing a conundrum.
The while on the admiring company, Mary kept about his
close run of the blue Coat school, as if she
had been a blue Coat herself. Still, she felt at
her duty to keep one lesson in advance of her brother,
just to know that he was progressing well. He continued
(11:33):
to go to school until he was fourteen, when he
was set to work in the south Sea Company's office
because his income was needed to keep the family. Mary
was educating the boy with the help of mister Salt's library.
For a boy as fine as Charles should be educated,
you know. By and by the bubble burst, and young
Lamb was transferred to the East India Company's office and
(11:55):
being promoted. Was making nearly a hundred pounds a year.
And Mary sewed and borrowed books and toiled incessantly, but
was ill At times. People said her head was just
not right, she was overworked and nervous or something. The
father had lost his place on account of too much
gin and water, especially gin. The mother was almost helpless
(12:18):
from paralysis, and in the family was an aged maiden
aunt to be cared for. The only regular income was
the salary of Charles. There they lived in their poverty
and loneliness, hoping for better things. Charles was working away
over the ledgers and used to come home fagged and weary.
And Coleridge was far away, and there was no boy
(12:38):
to educate now, and only sick and foolish and quibbling
people on whom to strike fire. The dimnition grind did
its work for Mary Lamb as surely as it is
to day doing it for countless farmers wives in Iowa
and Illinois. Thus ran the years away. Mary Lamb aged
thirty two, gentle intelligence and wondrous kind. In sudden phrenzy
(13:03):
seized a knife from the table, and with one thrust
sank the blade into her mother's heart. Charles Lamb, in
an adjoining room, hearing the commotion, entered quickly, and, taking
the knife from his sister's hand, put his arm about her,
and tenderly led her away, returning in a few minutes
(13:23):
the mother was dead. Women often make a shrill outcry
at sight of a mouse. Men cursed loudly when large
buzzing blue bottle flies disturbed there after dinner nap. But
let occasion come, and the stuff of which cheers are
made is in us. All I think well of my kind.
Charles Lamb made no outcry, He shed no tears, He
(13:46):
spoke no word of reproach. He met every detail of
that terrible issue, was coolly, calmly and surely, as if
he had been making entries in his journal. No man
ever loved his mother more. But she was dead. Now
she was dead. He closed the staring eyes, composed the
stiffening limbs, kept curious sightseers at bay, and all the
(14:09):
time thought of what he could do to project the
living She who had wrought this ruin Charles was twenty one,
a boy in feeling and temperament, a frolicsome heedless boy.
In an hour he became a man. It requires a
subtler pen than mine to trace the psychology of this tragedy,
(14:30):
but let me say this much. It had its birth
in love, an unrequited love, and the outcome of it
was an increase in love. Oh God, how wonderful are
thy works. Thou makest the rotting log to nourish banks
of violets, and from the stagnant pool at thy words
brings forth the lotus that covers all with fragrance and beauty.
(14:54):
End of Section seventeen, Mary Lamb, Part one
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Football’s funniest family duo — Jason Kelce of the Philadelphia Eagles and Travis Kelce of the Kansas City Chiefs — team up to provide next-level access to life in the league as it unfolds. The two brothers and Super Bowl champions drop weekly insights about the weekly slate of games and share their INSIDE perspectives on trending NFL news and sports headlines. They also endlessly rag on each other as brothers do, chat the latest in pop culture and welcome some very popular and well-known friends to chat with them. Check out new episodes every Wednesday. Follow New Heights on the Wondery App, YouTube or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to new episodes early and ad-free, and get exclusive content on Wondery+. Join Wondery+ in the Wondery App, Apple Podcasts or Spotify. And join our new membership for a unique fan experience by going to the New Heights YouTube channel now!
Dateline NBC
Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations. Follow now to get the latest episodes of Dateline NBC completely free, or subscribe to Dateline Premium for ad-free listening and exclusive bonus content: DatelinePremium.com
On Purpose with Jay Shetty
I’m Jay Shetty host of On Purpose the worlds #1 Mental Health podcast and I’m so grateful you found us. I started this podcast 5 years ago to invite you into conversations and workshops that are designed to help make you happier, healthier and more healed. I believe that when you (yes you) feel seen, heard and understood you’re able to deal with relationship struggles, work challenges and life’s ups and downs with more ease and grace. I interview experts, celebrities, thought leaders and athletes so that we can grow our mindset, build better habits and uncover a side of them we’ve never seen before. New episodes every Monday and Friday. Your support means the world to me and I don’t take it for granted — click the follow button and leave a review to help us spread the love with On Purpose. I can’t wait for you to listen to your first or 500th episode!