The tutor praised fencing as an exercise and an accomplishment.

He had large reserves of eulogy for boxing.

He knew the qualities of the famous bruisers of the time, cited fisty names, whose owners were then to be seen all over an admiring land in prints; in the glorious defensive-offensive attitude, England's own--Touch me, if you dare! with bullish, or bull-dog, or oak-bole fronts for the blow, handsome to pugilistic eyes.
The young tutor had lighted on a pet theme of Mr.Eglett's--the excelling virtues of the practice of pugilism in Old England, and the school of honour that it is to our lower population.

"Fifty times better for them than cock-fighting," he exclaimed, admitting that he could be an interested spectator at a ring or the pit cock-fighting or ratting.
"Ratting seems to have more excuse," the tutor said, and made no sign of a liking for either of those popular pastimes.

As he disapproved without squeamishness, the impulsive but sharply critical woman close by nodded; and she gave him his dues for being no courtier.
Leo had to be off to bed.