In 1786, when Telford was nearly thirty, a piece of unexpected good luck fell to his lot.  And yet it was not so much good luck as due recognition of his sterling qualities by a wealthy and appreciative person.  Long before, while he was still in Eskdale, one Mr. Pulteney, a man of social importance, who had a large house in the bleak northern valley, had asked his advice about the repairs of his own mansion.  We may be sure that Telford did his work on that occasion carefully and well; for now, when Mr. Pulteney wished to restore the ruins of Shrewsbury Castle as a dwelling-house, he sought out the young mason who had attended to his Scotch property, and asked him to superintend the proposed alterations in his Shropshire castle.  Nor was that all:  by Mr. Pulteney’s influence, Telford was shortly afterwards appointed to be county surveyor of public works, having under his care all the roads, bridges, gaols, and public buildings in the whole of Shropshire.  Thus the Eskdale shepherd-boy rose at last from the rank of a working mason, and attained the well-earned dignity of an engineer and a professional man.

Telford had now a fair opportunity of showing the real stuff of which he was made.  Those, of course, were the days when railroads had not yet been dreamt of; when even roads were few and bad; when communications generally were still in a very disorderly and unorganized condition.  It is Telford’s special glory that he reformed and altered this whole state of things; he reduced the roads of half Britain to system and order; he made the finest highways and bridges then ever constructed; and by his magnificent engineering works, especially his aqueducts, he paved the way unconsciously but surely for the future railways.  If it had not been for such great undertakings as Telford’s Holyhead Road, which familiarized men’s minds with costly engineering operations, it is probable that projectors would long have stood aghast at the alarming expense of a nearly level iron road running through tall hills and over broad rivers the whole way from London to Manchester.

At first, Telford’s work as county surveyor lay mostly in very small things indeed—­mere repairs of sidepaths or bridges, which gave him little opportunity to develop his full talents as a born engineer.  But in time, being found faithful in small things, his employers, the county magistrates, began to consult him more and more on matters of comparative importance.  First, it was a bridge to be built across the Severn; then a church to be planned at Shrewsbury, and next, a second church in Coalbrookdale.  If he was thus to be made suddenly into an architect, Telford thought, almost without being consulted in the matter, he must certainly set out to study architecture.  So, with characteristic vigour, he went to work to visit London, Worcester, Gloucester, Bath, and Oxford, at each place taking care to learn whatever was to be learned in the practice of his new art.  Fortunately, however, for Telford and for England, it was not architecture in the strict sense that he was finally to practise as a real profession.  Another accident, as thoughtless people might call it, led him to adopt engineering in the end as the path in life he elected to follow.  In 1793, he was appointed engineer to the projected Ellesmere Canal.