The improvements and the machinery remained, however; and the mines passed into other hands.  Of late years the companies have been doing very well, and now export nearly as much silver as during the latter years of the Spanish government—­nearly, but not quite.  The financial history of the Real del Monte Company is worth putting down.  The original English company spent nearly one million sterling on it, without getting any dividend.  They sold it to two or three Mexicans for about twenty-seven thousand pounds, and the Mexicans spent eighty thousand more on it, and then began to make profits.  The annual profit is now some L200,000.

I have said that the modern Mexican Indian has but little idea of arithmetic.  This was not the case with his ancestors, who had a curious notation, serving for the highest numbers.  The Indians of the present day use the old Aztec numerals, and from these there is something to be learnt.

Baron Humboldt, speaking of the Muysca Indians of South America, says that their word for eleven is quihicha ata, that is, “foot one;” meaning that they have counted all their fingers, and are beginning their toes.  He proceeds to compare the Persian words, pentcha, hand, and pendj, five, as being connected with one another, and gives various other curious instances of finger-numeration.  We may carry the theory further.  The Zulu language reckons from one up to five, and then goes on with tatisitupe ("take the thumb"), meaning six; tatukomba ("take the pointer,” or forefinger), meaning seven, and so on.  The Vei language counts from one up to nineteen, and for twenty says mo bande—­“a person is finished”—­that is, both fingers and toes.  I venture to add another suggestion.  Eichhoff gives a Sanskrit word for finger, “daicini” (taken apparently from pra-decini, forefinger), and which corresponds curiously with “dacan,” ten; and we have the same resemblance running through many of the Indo-European languages, as [Greek:  deka] and [Greek:  daktylos], decem and digitus; German, Zehn and Zehe, and so on.

Here the Mexican numerals will afford us a new illustration.  Of the meaning of the first four of them—­ce, ome, yei, nahui—­I can give no idea, any more than I can of the meaning of the words one, two, three, four, which correspond to them; but the Mexican for five is macuilli, “hand-depicting.”  Then we go on in the dark as far as ten, which is matlactli, “hand-half,” as I think it means, (from tlactli, half); and this would mean, not the halving of a hand, but the half of the whole person, which you get by counting his hands only.  The syllable ma, which means “hand,” makes its appearance in the words five and ten, and no where else; just as it should do.  When we come to twenty, we have cempoalli, “one counting;” that is, one whole man, fingers and toes—­corresponding to the Vei word for twenty, “a person is finished.”