One afternoon, I went to see the Moorish cavalry “playing at powder,” (Lab Elbaroud) being a stirring and novel scene.  A troop of these haughty cavaliers assembled with their chiefs almost daily on the playa, or parade.  Then they divided themselves into parties of twenty or thirty; proceeding with their manoeuvres, the cavaliers at first advance slowly in a single line, then canter, and then gallop, spurring on the horse to its last gasp, meantime standing up erect on their shovel-stirrups, and turning from one side to the other; looking round with an air of defiance, they fire off their matchlocks, throw themselves into various dexterous attitudes, sometimes letting fall the bridle.  The pieces being discharged, the horses instantaneously stop.  The most difficult lesson a barb learns, is to halt suddenly in mid career of a full gallop.  To discharge his matchlock, standing on the stirrups while the horse is in full gallop, is the great lesson of perfection of the Maroquine soldiery.  The cavaliers now wheel out of the way for the next file, returning reloading, and taking their places to gallop off and fire again.  Crowds of people attend these equestrian exhibitions, of which they are passionately fond.  They squat round the parade in double or treble rows, muffled up within their bournouses, in mute admiration.  Occasionally women are present, but females here join in very few out-door amusements.  When a whole troop of cavaliers are thus manoeuvering, galloping at the utmost stretch of the horses’ muscles, the men screaming and hallowing “hah! hah! hah!” the dust and sand rising in clouds before the foaming fiery barb, with the deafening noise and confusion of a simultaneous discharge of firelocks, the picture represents in vivid colours what might be conceived of the wild Nubian cavalry of ancient Africa. [16] Today there was a mishap; several cavaliers did not keep up the line.  The chief leading the troops, cried out in a rage, and with the voice of a senator, “Fools! madmen! are you children, or are ye men?” Christians or Jews standing too near, are frequently pushed back with violence; and we were told “not to stand in the way of Mussulmen.”

These cavaliers are sometimes called spahis; they are composed of Moors, Arabs, Berbers, and all the native races in Morocco.  They are usually plainly dressed, but, beneath the bournouse, many of them wear the Moorish dress, embroidered in the richest style.  Some of the horses are magnificently caparisoned in superb harness, worked in silk and gold.  Fine harness is one of the luxuries of North Africa, and is still much used, even in Tunis and Tripoli, where the new system of European military dress and tactics has been introduced.  The horse is the sacred animal of Morocco, as well as the safeguard of the empire.  The Sultan has no other military defence, except the natural difficulties of the country, or the hatred of his people to strangers.  He does not permit the exportation of horses, nor of barley, on which they are often fed. [17]