All about Henry Moseley's law. The meaning of the word mosley in a large encyclopedic dictionary

Henry Gwyn Jeffreys Moseley(English) Henry Moseley) - English physicist, one of the founders of X-ray spectroscopy.

Biography

Scientific achievements

Original text(English)

In view of what he (Moseley) might still have accomplished ... his death might well have been the most costly single death of the War to mankind generally.

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Literature

Khramov Yu. A. Moseley Henry Gwyn-Jeffreys // Physicists: Biographical Reference / Ed. A. I. Akhiezer. - Ed. 2nd, rev. and additional - M.: Nauka, 1983. - P. 190. - 400 p. - 200,000 copies.(in translation)

Excerpt characterizing Moseley, Henry

– You were angry that he did not enter these 700 rubles. After all, he wrote them in transport, but you didn’t look at the other page.
“Dad, he’s a scoundrel and a thief, I know.” And he did what he did. And if you don’t want to, I won’t tell him anything.
- No, my soul (the count was embarrassed too. He felt that he was a bad manager of his wife’s estate and was guilty before his children, but did not know how to correct this) - No, I ask you to take care of business, I’m old, I...
- No, daddy, you will forgive me if I did something unpleasant to you; I know less than you.
“To hell with them, with these men with money and transport all over the page,” he thought. Even from the corner of six jackpots, I once understood, but from the page of transport, I don’t understand anything,” he said to himself and since then he has not intervened in business anymore. Only one day the Countess called her son to her, told him that she had Anna Mikhailovna’s bill of exchange for two thousand and asked Nikolai what he thought to do with it.
“That’s how it is,” answered Nikolai. – You told me that it depends on me; I don’t like Anna Mikhailovna and I don’t like Boris, but they were friendly with us and poor. So that's how it is! - and he tore the bill, and with this act he made the old countess cry with tears of joy. After this, young Rostov, no longer intervening in any matters, with passionate enthusiasm took up the still new business of hound hunting, which large sizes was started by the old count.

It was already winter, morning frosts were binding the earth, wetted by autumn rains, the greenery was already flattened and brightly green separated from the stripes of browning, cattle-killed, winter and light yellow spring stubble with red stripes of buckwheat. The peaks and forests, which at the end of August were still green islands between the black fields of winter crops and stubble, became golden and bright red islands among the bright green winter crops. The hare was already half worn out (molted), the fox litters were beginning to disperse, and the young wolves were larger than the dogs. It was the best hunting time. The dogs of the ardent, young hunter of Rostov not only entered the hunting body, but also got beaten up so much that in the general council of hunters it was decided to give the dogs a rest for three days and on September 16 to leave, starting from the oak grove, where there was an untouched wolf brood.
This was the situation on September 14th.
All this day the hunt was at home; It was frosty and bitter, but in the evening it began to cool down and thaw. On September 15, when young Rostov looked out the window in the morning in his dressing gown, he saw a morning that nothing could be better for hunting: as if the sky was melting and descending to the ground without wind. The only movement that was in the air was the quiet movement from top to bottom of microscopic drops of mg or fog descending. Transparent drops hung on the bare branches of the garden and fell on the newly fallen leaves. The soil in the garden, like a poppy, was glossy and wet black, and at a short distance merged with the dull and damp cover of fog. Nikolai stepped out onto the wet, muddy porch: it smelled of withering forest and dogs. The black-spotted, wide-bottomed bitch Milka with large black protruding eyes, seeing her owner, stood up, stretched back and lay down like a hare, then suddenly jumped up and licked him right on the nose and mustache. Another greyhound dog, seeing its owner from the colored path, arched its back, quickly rushed to the porch and, raising its tail, began to rub against Nikolai’s legs.
- Oh goy! - at this time that inimitable hunting call was heard, which combines both the deepest bass and the most subtle tenor; and from around the corner came the arriving and hunting Danilo, a Ukrainian-style, gray-haired, wrinkled hunter with a cropped hair, a bent arapnik in his hand and with that expression of independence and contempt for everything in the world that only hunters have. He took off his Circassian hat in front of the master and looked at him contemptuously. This contempt was not offensive to the master: Nikolai knew that this Danilo, who despised everything and stood above all else, was still his man and hunter.
- Danila! - said Nikolai, timidly feeling that at the sight of this hunting weather, these dogs and the hunter, he was already seized by that irresistible hunting feeling in which a person forgets all previous intentions, like a man in love in the presence of his mistress.

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