Our stone-mason remained at Edinburgh for about two years, during which he had the advantage of taking part in first-rate work and maintaining himself comfortably, while he devoted much of his spare time to drawing, in its application to architecture. He took the opportunity of visiting and carefully studying the fine specimens of ancient work at Holyrood House and Chapel, the Castle, Heriot's Hospital, and the numerous curious illustrations of middle age domestic architecture with which the Old Town abounds. He also made several journeys to the beautiful old chapel of Rosslyn, situated some miles to the south of Edinburgh, making careful drawings of the more important parts of that building. When he had thus improved himself, "and studied all that was to be seen in Edinburgh, in returning to the western border," he says, "I visited the justly celebrated Abbey of Melrose." There he was charmed by the delicate and perfect workmanship still visible even in the ruins of that fine old Abbey; and with his folio filled with sketches and drawings, he made his way back to Eskdale and the humble cottage at The Crooks. But not to remain there long. He merely wished to pay a parting visit to his mother and other relatives before starting upon a longer journey. "Having acquired," he says in his Autobiography, "the rudiments of my profession, I considered that my native country afforded few opportunities of exercising it to any extent, and therefore judged it advisable (like many of my countrymen) to proceed southward, where industry might find more employment and be better remunerated." Before setting out, he called upon all his old friends and acquaintances in the dale--the neighbouring farmers, who had befriended him and his mother when struggling with poverty--his schoolfellows, many of whom were preparing to migrate, like himself, from their native valley--and the many friends and acquaintances he had made while working as a mason in Langholm. Everybody knew that Tom was going south, and all wished him God speed. At length the leave-taking was over, and he set out for London in the year 1782, when twenty-five years old. He had, like the little river Meggat, on the banks of which he was born, floated gradually on towards the outer world: first from the nook in the valley, to Westerkirk school; then to Langholm and its little circle; and now, like the Meggat, which flows with the Esk into the ocean, he was about to be borne away into the wide world. Telford, however, had confidence in himself, and no one had fears for him. As the neighbours said, wisely wagging their heads, "Ah, he's an auld-farran chap is Tam; he'll either mak a spoon or spoil a horn; any how, he's gatten a good trade at his fingers' ends."