The poems of Tobias Martin were first published in Helston in 1831; a second edition followed in 1856, and a third in 1885. The poems suggest the mental attitude of an eighteenth century Cornish Piers Ploughman; running through them there is a vein of deep resentment at the tyranny and oppression of the ruling classes, and the lethargy, pride, hard-heartedness and laxity of the clergy is touched upon with no light hand. His verses as poetry are utterly valueless, but as garish pictures of a day that is passed they will always be interesting, if somewhat painful reading. Martin by his contemporaries was called an atheist. Judging by his poems, I imagine that he had thought perhaps a little more than his accusers, who most probably had never thought at all on the deeper things of life; his soul no doubt was in revolt against the dead shibboleths and formalism of the age, with which men were attempting to compound for the brutality and coarseness of their lives. One looks in vain through Martin's poems for one thought of poetic beauty or discernment. Perhaps the following story of Martin, given by Mr. Baring Gould,[60] will suggest a picture of the man and his communications. It is fair to add that whilst the following story reveals him as a merry fellow, many of his poems reveal in him a strain of plaintive melancholy. Captain Toby was having his pint of ale at a tavern, when in comes a miner who was wont to be called "Old Blowhard," and was not esteemed trusty or diligent as a workman. "How are 'ee, Capp'n?" "Clever, how art thee?" "Purty well for health," says Bill, "but I want a job. Can 'ee give us waun ovver to yur new bal?" "No, we're full," replied Captain Toby. "How many men have 'ee goat ovver theere?" asked old Bill Blowhard. "How many? Why we've two sinking a air-shaft through the flockan, and two to taackle, and that's fower; and theere's two men in the oddit, and a booay to car tools and that, and that makes three moore, and that altogether es seben." "And how many cappuns have 'ee goat?" said Bill. "How many? Why ten." "What! Ten cappuns to watch ovver seben men? I doant b'lieve you can maake that out, for the venturers wouldn't stand it." "Tes zackly so then, and I'll make it out to 'ee in a moment. Waun cappun es 'nough we oal knaw, but at the last mittin the 'venturers purposed to have waun of the 'venturers sons maade a cappun, and to larn, they said; and so a draaper's son called Sems, was put weth me from school, at six pounds a month and a shaare of what we had in the 'count-house." "Well, but how can 'ee maake ten of you and he?" "Why I'll tell'ee how, and you mind nother time Bill, for theere's somethin' of scholarin' in ut. Now see this. I myself am waun, baent I?" "Iss sure," said Bill. "Well, and theest aught ta knaw that young Sems is nawthin'; well when theest ben to school so long as I have, theest knaw that waun with a nought attached to un do maake ten, and so 'tes zackly like that."