The Man Who Awoke by Laurence Manning

The sun rose and set three tunes and brought fair weather-so fine that the three young men found it more pleasant to walk out of doors than remain in the scientifically correct climate of the laboratory. Spring dawned in those three days and leaves sprouted-but it was too late to save the tropical vegetation killed by the severe winter. Birches showed white and maples flowered redly in the swamps while the semitropical trees died in brown ruin. On the fourth day after the operation, Winters struggled back to consciousness.

The old man had come close to the brink of death. He had lain in a world of alternating blankness and phantasy. In his dreams he lived once more in New York of the twentieth century and saw anew those dear familiar faces long dead. His first emotion upon opening sane eyes was one of melancholy for all that had passed. Nevermore could he visit scenes of the old days. Yet, he reflected, what really did it matter to him who was in turn so soon to die? What was it the young biologist had said-that he would make no more time journeys? Well, he still knew nothing of the present age.