1. What does the author feel after entering the windmill?
2. In fact, what else feeling lies behind the pity of the author?
Chance recently made me for a while the tenant of a windmill. Not to live in, and unhappily not to grind corn in, but to visit as the mood arose, and see the ships in the harbour from the topmost window, and look down on the sheep and the green world all around. For this mill stands high and white so white, indeed, that when there is a thunder-cloud behind it, it seems a thing of polished aluminium.